#but it’s also because I’m going through heartbreak a bit

[httpdwaekki]

crampy | k.s.

summary: when your period come suddenly and you have to cancel plans, seungmin is there to help you through the pain.

wc: 1.5k

warnings: descriptions of period cramps, crying, seungmin being a mushy bean for his partner, i think this is p much gn!reader besides the period but please let me know if i missed anything!!

a/n: happy birthday mong mong!! a self indulgent fic but for my favorite puppy <33 i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library | fundraiser

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you didn’t know what else to do.

you’ve tried every trick you could think of but nothing would stop the searing pain in your pelvis. every month without fail you were bed ridden for at least 2 days, curled up in pain, unable to move.

you’re starving with simultaneously no appetite because of the pain. however this time felt worse, this time you were supposed to go out with seungmin and the rest of his members but everytime you moved you were immediately met with pain.

cutting your losses you just curled up with your heating pad and grabbed your phone. you send seungmin a quick text telling him you couldn’t make it and to tell the boys you were sorry.

after that another cramp hit, it felt like someone had grabbed your insides and squeezed as hard as they could. you let out a yelp as the pain only worsened, sobbing out in pure agony.

you were mostly crying because of the pain but you also felt horrible for canceling on your boyfriend and his friends. the pain mixing with the guilt only made you sob harder.

unbeknownst to you, seungmin was on his way to your place, something about your text sounded off. he didn’t know what it was but something in his gut told him he needed to go to you, so he did.

once he opened the door he was met with the sounds of your cries. alarm bells immediately went off in his head as he quickly locked the door, tossing his shoes and bag to the side, running to your room.

he found you curled in a ball, facing the door, eyes closed as heartbreaking sobs leave your mouth. he quickly made his way to your bed, kneeling on the floor in front of you before placing a hand on your shoulder.

you gasp in surprise, eyes wide as they shoot open. “it’s just me, it’s just me, i’m sorry.” he quickly says, holding his hands up in surrender.

once your brain registers the familiar man in front of you, you feel the lump form in your throat once more. your hands come up to cover your face as the tears flow down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry” you sob, your breathing choppy as you speak. “hey, hey,” he says softly, moving your hands with one, gently wiping your tears with the other.

“it’s okay pup, what’s going on hm?” your lip wobbles once again, reminded of the pain. “i- ah!“ you start, just in time for another wave of pain. you curl into yourself, bringing your arm to press the hot pad even further onto your skin.

“okay, i understand bubs,” he moves to sit on your bed, placing one arm over the one on your stomach, the other on your head, softly stroking your forehead. he places a kiss to your temple, shushing you softly, “it’s okay, you’re okay, breathe pup, breathe.”

you take shakey deep breath, exhaling after a few seconds. you both sit there for a while, letting your breath even out before either of you spoke. “i’m sorry.” you whimper, pulling away to look at him.

your bottom lip jutting out as a fresh wave of tears rolls down your face. he places a hand on your cheek, gently brushing away the fresh tears, shushing you. “stop apologizing bub,” he leans down, placing a kiss to your hair. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” you shake your head, new tears following the old.

“i got my period, and it’s really bad and i was trying to suck it up and come i promise but it was really fucking bad seung, it just-“ you were rambling and losing your breath, starting to hyperventilate.

“sh, sh, it’s okay pup, breathe,” he leans back slightly, “scoot over a bit.” he gently requests, making sure the heating pad stayed on your abdomen.

once a little space was created, he slides into your bed, pulling you into him. “okay, my bub, just relax, everything’s okay, no one’s upset, okay?” you sniffle, catching your breath a bit. “promise?” your voice small as you ask.

“i promise, we were all just concerned, and wanted to make sure you were okay.” he reassures, rubbing soothing circles on your back. you nod, turning into his chest, melting into him, just crying for a few minutes until you felt better.

you shift, laying your face against his chest as he continues rubbing your back. “did you take medicine or eat?” you shake your head, drawing figures on his tummy.

“do you have medicine?” you nod your head, pointing to the bathroom. “in the medicine cabinet, second shelf to the left.” he nods, placing a kiss to your head before standing. “i’ll

be quick.” he whispers, quickly making his way to the attached room.

he comes back out holding the familiar bottle, placing it on your bedside table. he pulls out his phone before smoothly moving back to his previous spot. “okay i’m gonna order us some ramen so you can eat and then take some medicine, how does that sound hm?” he asks, already opening his delivery app.

if you had any more tears left you’d be sobbing again but you’re fresh out. instead you nod, placing a kiss to his peck, “thank you pup.” you whisper cuddling back into him.

he smiles looking down at you before placing a kiss to your hair once more. “anything for you bubs.” he goes back to

work, ordering his ramen and your usual before placing his phone down, snuggling into you.

“once the ramen comes and you eat a bit i’ll give you some medicine, but when we finish eating do you wanna sleep or take a bath?” you think about it for a moment before coming to a decision.

“sleep, i’m exhausted.” he nods, rubbing your arm, “okay we can do that, and then if you want a bath when you wake up we can do that too okay?” you nod before turning your head, placing a kiss to this peck.

“thank you baby, i don’t know what i’d do without you.” you wrap your arms around him, wincing as another cramp spreads pain through your body. “ah.” you cry, shoving your face back into his chest.

he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him, “okay bubs, i ordered it so hopefully it’ll be here soon and then you can eat take medicine and go to sleep.”

you nod, pressing your face further into him, trying to calm yourself. he starts humming, hoping to put you at ease with his voice. once he feels you relaxing into him he starts singing softly, letting you focus on his voice rather than the pain.

you ended up falling asleep before the food comes, waking up to see a dim light and seungmin bringing in the food. he sets it on the table before looking over seeing you smiling sleepily at him.

“hi bubs, you ready to eat?” he asks as he sits on the bed next to you, carefully brushing your hair out of your face. you nod, sitting up carefully as he prepares your ramen on the table next to your bed.

once you were sitting up, he hands you the bowl, “careful, it’s hot.” you nod, carefully taking the bowl before he grabs a pillow, making sure the heating pad is placed properly before placing the pillow on your lap.

“thank you, bubba.” you smile to him, before he leans down to place a soft kiss to your lips. “you’re welcome, pup.” he says against your lips before sitting down, handing you your chopsticks.

he makes his ramen as well and both of you eat in silence. once finished he grabs your trash putting it in the take out bag it came in, leaving to put it in the trash.

he comes back with two bottles of water, placing them both on the table before opening the bottle of medicine, handing you 2 pills. he places them in your hand, opening one of the waters, handing that to you as you place the pills in your mouth.

you take a gulp of water, swallowing the medicine before taking a couple extra sips before handing the bottle back to him. “thank you.” you whisper, scooting over to give him more room as he places the bottle down.

“you’re welcome, bubs.” he says, leaning over to place a kiss on your head. he quickly gets up to turn off the light before climbing into bed with you. he opens his arms, allowing you to lay against him.

once in his arms, he wraps them around you, kissing your face all over. you giggle as he does this before eventually he stops, not wanting to make your cramps worse. you relax into him, melting further into his embrace.

“is you heating pad okay?” you nod against him, a yawn leaving your lips. “good, sweet dreams pup, i love you.” he whispers, placing one last kiss to your head. “good night bubba, love you too.” you mumble before both of you drift off into each other’s arms.

do not repost or edit

[locamotivednp]

Okay I for real have to go to bed now I’ve got two important meeting in the morning and I’m spent the last few hours sobbing over dnp oops

[hoshifighting]

when you make seventeen cry in an argument WARNINGS: angst, lots of crying. a/n: just a question, why do u guys enjoy angst this much?

seungcheol he hates crying in front of you, hates feeling vulnerable. he’s the type to hold everything in, trying to stay strong for the both of you, even when the argument gets intense. but when the words cut too deep, when he feels like he’s failing you, you’ll see his eyes gloss over. he won’t let the tears fall right away; he’ll turn his head, rub the back of his neck, trying to keep it together. but when you keep pushing, maybe saying something that hits a little too close to home, his voice will crack. “i’m just trying to make this work,” he’ll say, and that’s when you know he’s really hurting.

jeonghan is the last person you’d expect to see cry during an argument. but he won’t cry unless he feels completely misunderstood. he can handle a lot, can take the back-and-forth of a heated argument, but when he feels like you don’t see him for who he is, that’s when the tears start to build. he quickly turns his head, not wanting you to see. “do you really think that about me?” when the tears come, they’re quiet, more like a silent plea for you to understand him. hates that you’re seeing him like this, but he can’t help it.

joshua tries so hard to stay composed during an argument. he’s the peacemaker, the one who wants to talk things out rationally, but when the argument drags on and you keep circling back to the same painful points, it wears him down. he’ll keep his tone calm, even when his heart is breaking “i don’t want to lose you over this,” he’ll say, his voice shaking as tears spill down his cheeks. it’s the thought of losing you that makes him break.

junhui is a bit of a mystery when it comes to his emotions tbh. he’ll stay quiet during most arguments, letting you vent, but when he starts to feel like he’s being taken for granted or misinterpreted, that’s when the tears threaten to spill. he’ll bite his lip, trying to keep it together, but when you push just a little too hard, he’ll crack. “why do you think i don’t care?” it’s not that he’s weak; it’s that he cares too much.

soonyoung is passionate in everything he does, and that includes arguing. he’ll fight hard, push his point, but he’s also quick to feel the weight of the argument. he cries when he feels misunderstood, when he feels like no matter what he says, it’s not getting through. the tears come when the frustration boils over, when he feels like he’s failing to communicate how much he cares. “why can’t we just talk this out…,” he’ll say, his voice breaking as the tears start to fall, showing just how much he’s been holding in.

wonwoo is the type to hold everything in until he can’t anymore. he’ll stay quiet during an argument, letting you say what you need to say, but when he feels like you’re not hearing him, not seeing him, that’s when the tears start to build. he won’t cry easily; it takes a lot to get him to that point, but when he does, it’s heartbreaking. “i just want you to understand!”

woozi is tough, or at least he tries to be. he doesn’t like showing weakness, especially during an argument. he’ll try to fight it, to keep going, but his voice will start to crack. “why do you have to say it like that?” he’ll ask, and you’ll see the tears welling up in his eyes. he won’t let them fall right away; he’ll try to brush it off, to focus on the argument, but eventually, he’ll have to turn away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, hating that he’s crying but unable to stop.

minghao is usually the one trying to keep things calm, trying to deescalate the argument before it gets too heated. he’s not quick to cry, but when he does, it’s because the fight has gone too far. when the tears start, he can’t stop them. they come silently, slipping down his cheeks as he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “this isn’t what i wanted,” he says, voice trembling. he hates that it’s come to this, hates that he’s crying in the middle of a fight.

mingyu is sensitive, and that sensitivity often makes him emotional during arguments. he tries to keep it together, tries to stay strong, but it doesn’t take much to push him to the point of tears. it’s when the fight gets too intense, when it feels like you’re pulling away from him, that he starts to break down. he doesn’t try to hide it, doesn’t try to stop the tears from falling—he just lets them come, his shoulders shaking as he sobs. the fear that this fight could be the end of something he cares so deeply about.

seokmin always try to avoid conflict whenever possible. but when the argument gets serious, he can’t help but cry. just the sight of you upset, the sound of your voice cracking under the weight of the fight, and his own tears start to flow. he’s not good at hiding it, not good at keeping his emotions in bottled, so when he starts crying, and it’s hard for him to stop.

seungkwan wears his heart on his sleeve, and that makes him quick to cry during arguments. he’s not ashamed of it, not afraid to show his emotions, but that doesn’t make it any easier when the tears start to fall. he tries to keep talking, tries to work through the argument, but his voice breaks, and suddenly he’s crying, his shoulders vibrating, and he can’t hold it back once it starts.

vernon is usually pretty laid-back, but when something really matters to him, he’ll fight for it. he doesn’t cry easily, but when it feels like it’s breaking something between you two, it hits him hard. the tears come when he feels like he’s losing you, like the fight is pushing you further apart, and then the tears will come, slow at first but then all at once. he’ll hate that he’s crying, hate that he’s showing this side of himself.

chan is still figuring things out, still learning how to navigate arguments and everything. he is sensitive, but he’s not quick to cry during an argument. but there’s a limit to how much he can take. when he feels a lump form in his throat. he tries to push it down, tries to keep his voice steady, but when he sees the pain in your expression, it’s too much. his eyes well up, and he has to pause, taking a deep breath to keep from breaking down completely. he can't understand.

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[sun-kissy]

Hi, i wanted to request a james potter x reader thingy :))

So the idea is that james and reader broke up during hogwarts/directly after because they had the children talk, james really wants to be a father but reader is terrified of pregnancy so they break up. But over the years the reader keeps yearning for james and eventually they meet again when james and lily are together and have baby harry and its just really angsty 😭😭

Hope all of this makes sense i thought of this while listening to a song lyric

thank you for the request babe i love how your brain works <3 this is quite angsty so hopefully you like it! and now i’m curious to know what song 👀

also here’s some shameless promotion for @astonishment’s series with the same name, it’s deliciously tragic (☹️☹️☹️) and everyone should check it out!!

in another life | j.p.

“Calm down, babe,” Sirius mutters as you walk in step, looping his arm through yours.

You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously, sighing as you glance over at him. “It’s not that easy, Siri. I’m seeing him after what — four years? I can’t just calm down!”

He rolls his eyes, reaching towards you and thumbing at your lip to save it from your torment. “You’re seeing me after four years.”

You turn to Sirius, and he huffs out a laugh at your deadpan expression. “Well, you never asked me to marry you.”

Sirius wiggles his eyebrows, his lips curving up into a grin. “Marry me?”

“Fuck off, Black.”

James and Lily Potter were holding a meet-up of sorts, and had invited most people in your year at Hogwarts. You were hesitant to go, given your history with James, but Sirius insisted you tag along. You knew he, Remus, and Peter had stayed in touch with James. Rightfully, you ought to have too. But neither of you tried to; maybe you both knew it was better that way.

Sirius simpers, coming to a halt in front of the large black gates of the mansion. He reaches forward and begins to twist the lock, and you instinctively reach over and grab his hand to stop him. He turns to you, confusion twisting his features. “What are you — oh. Oh, sweetheart.”

He softens when he sees the expression on your face. You’re biting your cuticles, and the anxiety in your features is palpable. Sirius sighs and firmly pulls your hand away from your mouth, intertwining your fingers together. “It’s gonna be okay. Just be cordial with him. There’s no bad blood, right?”

“Right,” you mutter, albeit uncertainly.

“But, um…” he sighs, dropping your hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I should’ve told you before. But I didn’t wanna freak you out.”

“What?”

The apprehension in your tone causes Sirius to wince. “James and Lily, they… they’ve got a baby.”

There’s a beat of loud silence as the fact sinks in, a mount of uncertainty and hurt settling in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh.”

You’re trying not to show it, but the heartbreak on your face is painfully obvious. Sirius pouts, moving to take your hand again. “Babe, I’m sorry. I should’ve –”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the gates swinging open to reveal a beaming James Potter.

“Pads,” he grins immediately, eyes locking on Sirius as he moves towards him and swoops him into a quick hug.

You take the moment to look James over. He looked exactly like you remembered — messy curls, toned biceps, that movie-star grin. Yet something felt different, in the way he pulled Sirius into a hug without all the raucous fervour he would’ve at 16, how he held him so gently at arm’s length while talking to him. He’d softened, you realised, from the responsibilities of fatherhood and being a husband.

They pull apart a moment later, and his gaze drifts to you. His smile loses a bit of its sunshine, not softening but not quite dimming either. “Y/n, hey.”

There’s a moment of hesitation as he looks at you, but then he seems to decide upon giving you a hug too.

“Hi,” you mutter as he shortens the distance between you, needling his arms under yours to press them to your back. You embrace him in return, and a sudden pang of hurt shoots through your heart at the familiarity of the action.

Perhaps he was remembering it too, from the way he tightened his grip. Both of you were heavy on physical touch, and it was undeniably the best part of your relationship back in Hogwarts — how he’d always have a hand wrapped around your waist, how you’d wake up to cuddles and hugs every morning. You didn’t exactly have anyone to hug anymore, living alone.

So you convince yourself that the reason you hold on to James for slightly longer than necessary was because you craved human touch, not because of… anything else.

Finally, James pulls away, his arms dropping to his sides as he gives you a small smile. You plaster one onto your face too, for his sake. “So,” he starts as he turns around, beginning to lead you and Sirius into the mansion, “how’ve you been, Y/n?”

You can feel Sirius’ gaze burning holes into the side of your head, but choose to ignore him. “I’ve been great, yeah. You?”

James nods. “That’s cool. Yeah, I’ve been good too. Things have been fun, but kind of busy; you know, with work and Lily and the baby…” He seems to realise what he’s said, and clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, of course. The baby.

Sirius is beside you in an instant, arching his eyebrows and nudging your elbow to respond.

“Oh, um… congrats on the baby, by the way.”

James turns around to face you as you walk, and you give him a grin to prove that you’re being genuine — to show him that it didn’t feel like there was a knife being twisted in your gut every time the word baby was brought up.

His eyes soften, and you know he can tell how you’re feeling. But he gives you a grateful smile, and says no more as the three of you come to a stop in front of the house.

“By the way,” James mutters as he pushes the door open, “you guys are like, an hour early. You’re the only ones here.”

You immediately turn around to glower at Sirius for subjecting you to more torture than necessary by bringing you early. But he all but smirks as he follows you in.

Your eyes coast around the mansion, taking it all in. It’s decorated in a minimalist aesthetic, white couches and brown rugs. It was pretty, that was for sure; but you couldn’t help but think how different it was from James’ place in the dorm — posters and stickers all over the walls, boisterously red curtains and LED lights. It used to be so full of life.

Honestly, you might’ve guessed an old couple lived here, if not for the small signs of their life as a family — the pacifier on the dining table, a cradle at the far end of the living room, and the heart-shaped photo frames lining the walls.

James watches you, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. “You like it?”

He knows you wouldn’t like it, it’s everything you aren’t. Your dorm had been just like his; trying to fit as many vinyls and posters onto that small space next to your bed as possible. There would be fairy lights in every corner and succulents on the nightstand, a dreamcatcher which he’d gifted you hanging right above your bed. You were messy, as a person, and with your love too. You thought he was messy as well; but apparently he’d gotten his shit together already.

“Yeah, it’s simple. Pretty.”

“Honey —“ Lily bustles out the kitchen, a small gasp escaping her lips as she sees you and Sirius. She’s holding a ladle in one hand, and has her other arm wrapped around a baby perched on her waist.

You don’t register it when she kisses your cheek and hugs you, asks you how you’re doing and leads you to sit on the couch. Your gaze is locked on the baby, every second spent staring at him worsening the nauseous feeling at the back of your throat.

You must’ve asked for his name, because the word, “Harry,” registers in your head. This beautiful baby, with Lily’s deep green eyes and James’ luscious curls, was Harry.

Would you have named your baby Harry? Probably not, it was too generic. But it was too late now, to pick out names and choose a less boring aesthetic for a house together.

You had lost your chance back in seventh year, that night when you were laying on James’ bed, limbs tangled together as he raked his hands through your hair with all the love in the world. You’re gonna be my husband one day, you’d whispered, feeling so much affection for him you thought your heart would burst. Yeah, baby, he’d replied with a soft smile. We’re gonna live in a mansion, with our dogs and children and —

Children?

I don’t… I don’t want children. And that’s where it all started going downhill, that’s the moment James’ smile turned upside down and his hand dropped from your hair. It had turned into an argument, a screaming match — and eventually a reason to break up. James couldn't understand much you feared it, the pain of pregnancy and the exhaustion that came with motherhood. And some part of you knew that you weren’t blameless either — calling him awful things and accusing him of not loving you; though love was all he ever gave till the day you told him it was over.

The feeling of Sirius’ nails digging into your palm brings you back to the present, and you see him nodding absentmindedly as Lily rambles about how much trouble Harry’s been, and oh, she’s picked up a hobby of crocheting, and…

You flit your eyes to look at James sitting opposite you, gazing at you with his brows pinched in concern. Your emotions must’ve been obvious on your face, then. But he immediately looks away when Lily calls out to him, holding up Harry for him to carry.

You watch silently as James squeezes into the chair next to his wife, taking the small, lovely baby between his large, calloused hands. He smiles at Harry, looking at him though he was the most precious thing on earth. James’ fingers bunch Harry’s tiny shirt as he brings him close to his face, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lily’s head lolls onto James’ shoulder as he shifts Harry into a comfortable lying position in his arms.

There you have it. The perfect family, with the gorgeous wife and the adorable baby and the man who could’ve been yours if you wanted.

It’s too much for you to take, and Sirius squeezes your hand as you start to shake. Harry coos, and you melt at how James’ face breaks into a sunny beam. He tilts his head to press a soft peck to his wife’s hair, and there’s so much love in that simple gesture that you feel like you could die.

You feel Sirius’ worried gaze on you, your hands trembling and your knee bobbing up and down. The taste of blood from how hard you’re nibbling on your lip is grounding; it brings you back to yourself, who you are, and not who you could’ve been.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly from beside you, but it doesn’t get lodged into your brain. The only thing you feel is your vision of the perfect family blurring, soft streams of regret rolling down your cheek. Sirius makes a small noise of pity from beside you, and James looks up instantly, eyes widening as they lock on you. Lily is fast asleep, baby Harry staring at you with his thumb stuck into his mouth.

“Y/n, you okay?” James asks gently, but you don’t reply, still looking at him with that distraught look on your face. You open your mouth, but you don’t seem to have the vocabulary to express the heartache you felt right that moment. It felt strangely like grief; like you were mourning for the version of yourself you never got to meet, for the version of James who didn’t have the chance to be yours.

James' mouth twists downwards in a frown as he stands up and steps closer towards you. It’s like an alarm is set off in your head, and you immediately jolt back to the present, sucking in a deep breath.

Your legs act of their own accord as you stand up, Sirius’s hand falling limp on the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. You gulp down the lump in your throat and fiercely brush the tears away, James coming to a halt in front of you. “Y/n, baby —“

“I’m not your baby.”

James slaps a hand to his mouth, eyes as wide as Harry’s now. “Fuck, no, it — it just came out. I didn’t mean to. Shit, you’re crying.”

“I’m okay,” you warble. James opens his mouth to retort but you don’t let him, knowing that the longer you spent here, the more the gaping hole in your chest would grow. You couldn’t bear it anymore, watching James with his wife and wishing it was you instead. The worst part was that it was all your fault, your stupidity and your rejection.

“I’m fine, really. I…I’m gonna go now, it was nice meeting you. Convey my love to Remus, Peter and the girls.” You pick up your bag, moving to the front door with a befuddled James tracking your movements.

“Y/n —“

“Bye, James,” you call out halfheartedly as you slip into your shoes. He comes to stand at the door, rocking Harry from side to side. He looks almost disappointed as you make to leave.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, surprised. “It’s not your fault.”

James’ lips pursed together with guilt, seeming like he wants to say something as he opens and closes his mouth. He finally sighs, “It’s not your fault either.

It was startling, how he still knew just the right thing to say — he always had. The regret that had been clogging up your heart for years was drained out upon hearing that one sentence. James didn’t hold the utter failure of your relationship against you, and that was enough. If you couldn’t have his love, at least you had his forgiveness.

You give him a half smile and nod, turning around to leave. You’d go back to yours, more of a house than a home. But at least no one but yourself could hurt you there, there was no one to turn away and no hearts to break. No one to love.

“Hey.”

You spin back around to face the door, heart stopping upon seeing the moistness in his eyes. You hear the scratchiness in his throat as he sucks in a deep breath.

“James…”

“No, don’t — don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you, um…” he defeatedly runs a hand through his hair and exhales shakily. “I hope we worked out, you know, in another life.”

That catches you off guard, your heart involuntarily squeezing in your chest. James looks almost embarrassed as he says it, but you see the vulnerability in his eyes. He was right — maybe there was some planet on which you were less of a coward, another world where he could put a ring on your finger. He’d been yours to lose in this life, perhaps he was yours to love in another.

You clear your throat, feeling nausea brimming in the pits of your gut. “Yeah, I… I hope so too.”

You spare yourself one last glance at him before turning towards the exit, praying he didn’t see the tears dribbling down your cheeks.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to trudge forward, before he can call out to you and break your heart all over again.

In a few long strides, you’re out the gates; out of James’ life again.

[cazshmere]

Synastry Observations Pt.2

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🍊⭐️

🍊 Mars in the 12th house synastry has got to be one of the worst things 😭. It’s confusing and exhausting. The Mars person seems to harbour some sort of irrational animosity towards the house person in a very passive-aggressive way. The house person can sense this too, but they are unsure if they’re making it up or not. Also, it’s such a blockage; you could be really close to each other and know of each other, but the conversation WOULD TAKE AGES to start because neither the house person nor the Mars person wants to initiate conversation. It’s like there’s an invisible barrier between you guys 🥲

🍊 Venus in the 8th house/ in Scorpio’s first romantic relationship or situation always ends up hurting them. I’ve seen this countless times where their first experience with romance either ends in heartbreak, unrequited love, or just a missed opportunity. This heartbreak helps these individuals immensely transform, and they might prefer to isolate themselves from anything romance-related for a long period of time. Honestly I think this is a canon event for every Scorpio/8th house Venus that I’ve met, including me lmao and especially if there are Venus-Saturn hard aspects, dear lord, sending love to all my scorp/8th house placements fr🫶🏻🥲❤️‍🩹

🍊 Something I’ve observed with Libra placements, especially the moon, is that when they’re in a relationship, it becomes the focal point of their life. They might go as far as changing career paths to be closer to their partner, altering their style to match their partner’s preferences, or adjusting their personality to be more appealing to their partner (yes I’m sure most of us do this to some extent but it’s a bit excessive for these peeps😭). Their relationship becomes such a central part of their identity that if anything goes wrong, it can feel devastating for them. For instance, I have a friend who is a Libra moon, and she always refers to her partner as “my boyfriend” instead of his name, even though we all know him personally, like gurl come on he’s got a name haha😭

🍊 Moon in the 12th house synastry can equate to the house person opening up to the moon person or just feeling extremely vulnerable around them. They’d share things with the moon person that they dare not share with anyone else. This synastry could also mean staying up late in the night and throwing your sleep away just to talk to each other 🧿

🍊 12th house synastry could also have undertones of enemies-to-lovers (the lovers part only if you ever get together, that is) because there’s this energy where you don’t know why the other person acts hostile/passive-aggressive towards you, ignores you, or sends you mixed signals that makes you dislike them but at the same time, you can’t stop fantasizing/dreaming about them in all these romantic scenarios or them showing up in your dreams outta nowhere like??😭

🍊 7th/8th and even 10th (to some extent) house synastry could indicate that one of the two, either the house person or the planet person (mostly the house person), copies the other, be it mannerisms, clothes, slang, or even certain traits of the other’s personality 💀. It’s because they notice how much attention or admiration the planet person garners, so to obtain that same kind of attention and recognition the house person might try to emulate the planet person 🫤

🍊 7th house Mars synastry can be very annoying and tiresome (especially for the house person). The Mars person could be a bit too much for the house person. The Mars person could get very petty and passive-aggressive towards the house person for no reason (this could go vice versa too). Yes there is sexual attraction and y’all could motivate/support each other through stuff but at the same time it’s draining asf, a big no no for me when it comes to synastry 🥲

🍊 Moon square Saturn synastry can cause delays when it comes to emotional attachment between two people, but once these two finally connect, it’s ride or die typa relationship fr 🥺🫂

🍊 Moon/Mercury in the 1st/5th/9th house synastry is very exciting and fun-loving, with lots of playful teasing and bantering with each other 😋🥰

🍊Moon /Mercury in the 2nd/4th/8th/10th/12th house synastry makes both parties very sensitive to each other’s words because these houses reflect our self esteem/self worth, the deepest parts of ourselves, our core, our reputation etc. A little bit of critique can also be taken personally by either party. Even harmless jokes could be taken in the wrong way and arguments could occur (especially if there isn’t 3rd/5th/9th/11th house synastry or any easy aspects in the synastry chart)

🍊 When someone's planets fall in your 8th house, they intuitively sense your true and deep needs related to that planet. For example, if someone's Venus is in your 8th house, they will know how to love you in a way that makes you feel unconditionally loved and appreciated. If their Mercury is in your 8th house, they will understand how to communicate with you on a profound level, meeting your need for deep and meaningful conversation. If their Mars is in your 8th house, they will instinctively know how to meet your sexual needs and desires and please you in bed🖤❤️‍🔥

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

Best Mates

(Fuck boy!Aplha!Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!Omega!Reader)

Summary: You’ve always been in love with your bestfriend, you never thought anything would ever come of it until you present as an omega and he spends your heat with you. WK: 5.5k My Masterlist

Warnings: 18+MINDI Omegaverse so generall a/b/o behaviors. Scenting, knotting, marking, breeding kink, unprotected sex, possessiveness from both Eddie and reader, pining, heartbreak, Eddie leaves reader after her heat so there some angst but they get a happy ending. Pls lmk if I missed any!!

A/N: So this is my first time writing both omegaverse and angst, so I was pretty nervous going into this but I’m actually pretty proud of how it turned out! I’d love feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Also shout out to my Lessy poo for giving me some advice @lesservillain (divider used is by @firefly-graphics)

Eddie has been your best friend since middle school and you realized pretty early on that you were in love with him. You remember the exact moment, you were both 16 when a senior cheerleader pulled him into a janitor's closet and he fucked her up against the wall. He told you about it excitedly, in a particular Eddie fashion but each word felt like a knife to your heart. He got the van a few months after that and it only got worse from there. If it wasn’t cheerleaders sneaking around with him behind their boyfriends backs it was band girls who heard through the grapevine how good of a fuck he was asking him to take their virginity.

He would always rant and rave to you about his escapades during your weekly Friday night hang outs and each time it broke your heart. But you listened, because that’s what best best friends do. You’ve had a few boyfriends and you were no virgin yourself but you hardly ever went into details with him and it never worked out because none of them were Eddie. No matter how hard you tried not to compare them to him, you always did.

When you were 18 he presented as an alpha, you graduated and he didn’t, so you hoped maybe he would settle down and find an omega but even if he didn’t at least you wouldn’t be around him everyday anymore to see it. But that didn’t happen, instead he kept fucking men and women alike, omegas, betas, it didn’t matter to him as long as he had a warm hole to fill. You didn’t escape having to see it either, he would take people into the bathroom after shows at the hideout, leaving you to ride home with one of the other guys. You would overhear girls in your college classes whispering about him, how big he is, how hard they fucked them, and it not only broke you but it just made you want him more.

At twenty one you’ve yet to present and at this point you’d given up hope of it ever happening. Your mom is an alpha and your dad is an omega so you always thought you’d present, but you were starting to think you were wrong. That is until today.

You were laying in your bed, your sheets soaked through with slick and sweat, whining with your hand between your legs desperately trying to relieve the pressure, even just a little bit. But nothing was helping, you even tried to use your toy which you quickly learned was a mistake, the vibrations too much for your sensitive clit. You considered calling Eddie, more than once, even going as far as to pull up his contact on your phone before talking yourself out of it. You didn’t want him like this, not just because he felt obligated to help you but because you wanted him to want you because you were you. That’s all you ever wanted.

He had texted you several times, and called twice but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to answer him. He would know something was off with you immediately and wouldn’t believe you if you lied. You felt hopeless as you rolled around in your bed, the only thing that offered you any sort of comfort was the flannel he had left at your house last week. You hugged it tight to your body, the bottom half clenched between your thighs, the other end held up to your nose as you inhaled his scent.

You were half drifted off, still clutching his flannel for dear life when you heard a knock on your door. You groaned, rolling over and deciding to ignore it, there was no way you could answer the door like this. You ditched your tank top and panties hours ago, your hair is all over the place from rolling around in your sweat, and most of all you physically don’t feel like you can move right now. That plan was quickly thrown out the window when you heard it again, this time it wasn’t just a knock though, someone was pounding on your door.

You didn't have to wonder who it was for long, his voice yelling out your name as the loud knocks persisted. Why the fuck was he here? You knew he had plans tonight so you figured he wouldn’t notice you hadn’t replied until later. It only made you want to ignore it more, you couldn’t face him, not like this.

“Open this fucking door or I’m going to break it down!! I know you’re in there I can smell you!”

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that he could probably smell your heat, even from where he was. You wanted to ignore him, let him bang on the door until he finally gave up, but something told you he wouldn’t. That he would really break down your door to get to you, and you couldn’t help the warm feeling that filled your insides at the thought of him breaking down the door just to get to you. You knew you couldn’t resist him, not physically, even if your mind really wanted you to.

You groaned as you peeled yourself from your bed, grabbing some soft cotton panties out of your drawer and throwing his flannel over you without even really thinking about it. You felt dizzy and weak as you dragged yourself to the front door, but as soon as you hit the hallway it was like someone woke you up. You could smell him and the smell instantly brought the same kind of comfort as the flannel, if smelling him from here felt this amazing you could only imagine what it would be like to shove your nose in his neck and just inhale.

Suddenly the doubts in your mind were gone, you couldn’t even remember why you didn’t want to answer the door in the first place. You just want Eddie. Your pace picks up as you walk down your small apartment hallway and rip the door open. You smell him two seconds before your eyes meet and you feel like someone just knocked the wind out of you. His nostrils are flared, his pupils are dilated to the point that his eyes look black, the look in them wild.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just pushes past you into your apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him. He walks up to you so you’re toe to toe with him, he’s towering over you, staring into your eyes with lust and fury.

“I’m serious, why didn’t you fucking call me? I called you, you could’ve told me what was going on, you know I would’ve helped you.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, that combined with smelling him this close makes you whimper and you feel a rush of slick drip down your legs, right through the panties you just put on.

“I - I didn’t want you to feel pressured to help me Eddie, I know you’d only be doing it because you feel bad.” You wanted to break eye contact but you felt like he had you locked in place without even touching you.

“Pressured? You really think I would feel pressured? You don’t think I’d come just because I want to help my best friend through this?”

Best friend. Hearing those words come out of his mouth right now almost makes you gag.

“I don’t know.” You just shrug, not sure what else to say.

It’s then that he takes a second to take you in. You’re wearing his flannel and it’s not even buttoned so he can see everything but your nipples, you have on these little white cotton panties, there’s slick dripping down your legs and your fucking smell. He’s never smelled anything like it, anything better. He’s scented and knotted several other omegas, but no ones ever smelled as good as you.

He inhales deeply, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“Let me help you little omega, you smell so good, I can smell how badly you want me.” His hands run up your shoulders and rub over your neck, right where your scent gland is, and even just this simple touch makes your head spin even more. You want him to kiss you there. Bite you. You wanted him to mate you, but you’d never tell him that.

“Okay.”

It came out small and shaky but it was enough for him. He surges forward and crashes his lips against yours, his tongue immediately swiping over your bottom lip. When it intertwines with yours you moan at the taste of him. He pulls away, kissing down your jaw to that spot on your neck and your knees buckle. He catches you with ease, picking you up bridal style and carrying you to your room.

He tosses you on the bed and it causes the flannel to fall open, exposing your tits fully to him. Your legs are spread without you even realizing it and he can see how truly soaked you are now.

“Look at you baby, wearing my flannel, you have no idea what that’s doing to me. You look so fucking sexy and smell so fucking good. Gonna make you mine, my omega.” He’s not even really thinking about what he’s saying now, your scent and the sight of you so desperate for him clouding his mind. “I need to taste you.”

He lays down between your legs and immediately attaches his mouth to your clothed core, swirling his tongue over your overly sensitive clit with a groan. You moan loudly and arch your back.

“Eddie, Eddie, please please don’t tease me, make me feel good, I need you. I can't wait anymore.” He continues lapping at your clothed pussy for a few more seconds before pulling away.

“You want my knot, princess? Is that what you’re saying? I wanna hear you say it.” The people who you are outside this moment are completely gone, all thoughts of friendship and consequences out the window.

“Please please please, want it so bad.” You’re wiggling under him, your hips rocking back and forth in search of friction, you can’t take it anymore you’ve been aching for hours and your body knew it was aching for him.

“You don’t need to beg, sweet girl, I’ve got you. Let’s get these off…”

You barely have time to process what’s happening before he’s ripping your panties clean in half, bringing them to his mouth and sucking your juices before throwing them over his shoulder. He hastily rips the flannel from your body before tossing it in the same direction. He stands up momentarily to hastily rip off his own clothes, your eyes widen when you see him fully bare in front of you.

He’s more buff than he used to be and his pale skin is littered with more tattoos than he had a few years ago, his brown curls are even messier than usual and when your eyes trail down his body they pause at the little trail of hair under his belly button before stopping at his cock. You’ve heard rumors about it for years, you’ve seen it through his sweatpants more times than you could count but nothing could’ve prepared you for the real thing.

“Alpha, I want you inside me, fill me up please please.” You hardly even recognize your own voice anymore but you’d do or say anything to have him inside you right now.

“It’s okay baby, I’m going to make it all better, make all the pain go away, yeah?”

He comes back up onto the bed between your legs, grabbing them and placing them on either side of his thighs. He grabs his cock in his hand and pumps it a few times before slowly inserting the tip inside you. He wants to take his time with you, he really does, but he just can’t. He slams the rest of the way into you in one stroke, he leans over you on his forearms and starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

The weight of his body and the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly has an unexpected orgasm crashing through you immediately. The relief you’ve been seeking for hours brought onto you in mere minutes. He continues to pound into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again. You turn your face to run your nose along his neck and inhale his scent, the smell sending you hurtling into another mind blowing orgasm. He kept fucking you hard and deep, pushing you to the edge over and over again.

“Fuck! Eddieeee you feel so fucking - so fucking good, so so good. Thank you alpha thank you thank you.” You’ve been moaning and saying things you never thought you’d have the courage to say, the moans coming out of your mouth were sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making.

“This pussy feels so fucking good, feels like it was made for my cock. Tell me it’s mine, tell me this pussy belongs to me.”

“It’s yours - it’s yours! Only y-yours, my pussy belongs to you alpha!”

He growls into your neck as he leaves hot wet kisses over your scent gland, his thirsts start to grow sloppy and you feel his teeth nipping lightly at your flesh and you want him to just bite down.

“You’re so fucking good for me, such a good fucking girl. You’re gonna make me fucking cum.” You feel his cock twitch inside you the same moment you feel his teeth sink into your neck, the feeling sends a warmth through your body you’ve never felt before and you barely have time to process that feeling because seconds later he’s painting your walls with his cum. The feeling makes you cum right along with him but the euphoria is short lived when you feel a stabbing pain inside you.

“Shh shh, baby it’s okay, it’s just my knot, it’s only gonna hurt for a second I promise.” His voice is soft and calming, a stark contrast from the deep commanding tone he’d had since he showed up at your door. His hand reaches up to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your cheek while his nose nuzzles into the bite on your neck. After a moment the pain subsides and is replaced by overwhelming pleasure, sending you into a final orgasm.

“You okay?” He pushes up on his forearms to look at you and he almost feels like he’s gonna cum again. Your hair is a mess, your face is flushed, your skin slick with sweat, and his bite mark, slightly bloody, is displayed on your neck. He knew it wouldn’t take, since you didn’t ask him, but that didn’t stop him from imagining that it did, imagining you were his.

“Yeah, I’m good, I still - I’m still…” you struggled to find the words to describe how you were feeling.

“You feel satisfied but like you still want more, is that it?” His thumb runs over your cheek again and he leans down to rub his nose against yours, the gesture so gentle it almost brings you to tears.

“Mhm.” You nod.

“Well don’t worry babe, you’re stuck with me for the next week. I’ll be here for you, okay?” He grabs onto you so he can roll over onto his back with you on top of him. He lightly puts his hand on your back, pushing you down so your chest is flat against his and he can run his hands along your bare body.

“Okay Eddie, thank you…”

He kept his word and stayed with you through your entire heat, having one of the guys drop some stuff off for the both of you. He doted on you, fucked you and knotted you more times than you could count that it almost made you forget that he wasn’t really your mate, that he was just doing this to help his best friend. So the day you woke up feeling normal and he left to return to his regular life, to return to just being your best friend, you felt like he took a piece of you with him.

You hadn’t seen Eddie all week, which wasn’t that out of the ordinary these days since you both had work and you had classes. He’s called you a few times but you dodged them, only responding to a few of his many texts with short replies. Even managing to dodge your Friday night hang out under the guise of helping a friend with guy troubles.

But tonight Robin and Steve were dragging you to a party and you knew Eddie would be there because he asked you if you were going. You didn’t go overboard getting ready but you did wear your favorite little black dress and add a little more makeup than you usually would. If you were going to see him you were at least going to look hot.

When you get to the party you can already tell he was there. You haven’t laid eyes on him yet but the moment you walked into the door you could smell him. Even through all the smoke, bodies, and spilled beer you could smell his warm musky scent clear as day. It made you dizzy, it made you want to run. You weren’t sure if it was towards him or straight out of the party, you just knew you wanted to run.

You were one drink of mystery punch in when you finally laid eyes on him and you immediately knew which way you wanted to run. He was in the living room, with this beta girl from your English class pressed up against the wall. Your red cup slipped from your grasp and crashed onto the floor, the remaining liquid splashing all over the ground and your feet. You immediately dashed for the door, slipping in the liquid and bumping into a table that had a game of beer pong going on it.

The beer spilled all over the ground and the table tipped back and forth for a moment before landing back on its four legs. Almost every set of eyes there was on you, including the pair you wanted on you the least. You locked eyes with him for a moment, his filled with concern and something else you couldn’t decipher and yours brimmed with tears. You saw him start to untangle from the girl and took that as your sign to bolt. You ran out of the party and down the street, not even caring how you got home.

It’s been a few days since then but it felt like weeks. Eddie had called and texted you more times than you could count at this point. You had avoided every single one up until he threatened to just come over again to which you responded “I need time.” He stopped texting you after that.

You were on autopilot, work and class going by in a daze. You finally had the day off and Robin agreed to come over to keep you company. She brought snacks and you watched a few movies together. You were worried that you would feel different around her after you presented since she was an alpha but she didn’t smell any different to you. When you realized you couldn’t smell any of the alphas you’ve been around, it hit you, Eddie mated you that day.

When Robin leaves you’re back sitting with your thoughts of Eddie. What he might be doing, who he might be doing. You missed him and you hated it. You sighed as your hand subconsciously made its way up to the now almost healed bite on your neck. It had started to scab and show signs of scarring and each time you saw it your heart broke a little more. How could you be so stupid? You thought since you didn’t vocalize that you wanted him to mate you it wasn’t supposed to stick, but it did.

Once you realized it, everything started to make sense. The way you could smell him the minute you walked into that party, how you couldn’t smell any other alphas, the piece of you that felt like it was missing without him around. Eddie was your mate and he was still out fucking around with other people. It made you sick.

Your thoughts are disrupted by a banging on the door and the minute you hear his voice calling your name it’s like you're sent back to that day that he came to you when you needed him most. Part of you wanted to ignore him, let him bang on the door until he gave up, but the part of you that wanted to see him outweighed it.

When you open the door he’s standing there looking just as wild as that day but something about his scent is off and it makes you gag.

“We need to talk.” He looks and sounds pissed and it makes you scoff.

“Yeah? Why don’t you go talk to whatever fucking omega you smell like right now because you fucking reak.” You wrinkle your nose at him and scowl. Was he seriously pissed at you right now?

“That’s what we need to fucking talk about! Can I please just fucking come in?” He can tell you’re about to argue with him further so he just walks past you, leaving you in the doorway with your mouth hanging open.

“What the hell do you want from me Eddie!? You fucking mated me and then you left me! I see you a week later with your tongue down some girl's throat and now you show up at my door smelling like another omega!? Asking to TALK!? Okay let’s fucking talk Eddie. We can talk. Let’s talk about how you’ve made me feel for almost our entire lives!! From the minute you fucked Allison in that janitors closet you’ve been breaking my fucking heart! Every single time you tell me about your hook ups it makes me want to fucking DIE Eddie!! But I sit there and I listen because I’m a good best friend and I could take it as long as you were still in my life! But then you come here, you spend my heat with me and you treat me like I mean the world to you, like your mate, then you just LEAVE and act like none of it ever happened!! I can’t take it anymore!! I can’t let you hurt me like this anymore Eddie I can’t!”

Tears are streaming down your face and your voice is cracking from yelling, you bang your fits on his solid chest while you sob. “FUCK YOU EDDIE MUNSON!! I hate you I hate you I-“

Your rant is cut off by him grabbing your face and kissing you roughly. You grab onto his hair and pull him closer, no matter how much you want to push him away your body betrays you. After a second you pull back with a fire in your eyes, and slap him across the face.

“Princess… baby, you need to calm down.” His voice comes out stern, matter of fact, and it takes everything in you to resist his command.

“Calm down!? Calm down!? You told me you wanted to talk, kissing me to shut me up isn’t talking, Edward!”

“You WEREN’T LETTING ME TALK!! If you just listen to me for five fucking seconds!! I didn’t fucking know okay!? I didn’t know I mated you until TODAY. I thought since you didn’t ask me to mate you it wouldn’t stick, it never has before, but you’re different. You are my mate and I think my heart always knew that even if my brain was too dumb to realize it!”

“So what? It took you fucking TWO other people for you to realize I was the one for you? How fucking romantic!!”

“I didn’t fuck them!! I couldn’t, okay!? After I smelled you at the party from across the room I tired to fuck that beta chick at that party to get you off my mind but I couldn’t even get hard. I figured maybe it was just because she was a beta so I tried to be with another omega and she smelled DISGUSTING to me, the minute her arms wrapped around me I GAGGED and I came straight here!!”

“You didn’t fuck them but you still let them touch you!! You went to them! You tried! When you’re fucking mine Eddie! Do you know how much that hurts!?” You try to push him back but he grabs onto your wrists to hold you in place.

“You’re saying all this but I can smell alpha on you, and all over this entire apartment!!” He’s holding your wrists to his chest to keep you close, his eyes are boring into yours and you feel like he’s trying to look into your soul.

“Yeah ROBIN!! She came over to keep me company because I was wallowing in self pity over your dumb ass!! I CAN’T EVEN SMELL HER EDDIE! I can’t smell any other alphas besides you!!” You struggle against his hold, just wanting to back away from his scent that’s clouding your mind.

“Princess… calm down.” He’s using his alpha voice on you again and even though your body wants nothing more than to obey his command your anger outweighs it.

“Take your clothes off and get on the fucking couch Eddie. Now.” Your voice is stern and matter of fact, your eyes filled with fury so he decides not to question you. Dropping your wrists from his hold, stripping himself before walking over to the couch to lay back on it. He wanted to please you just as much as you wanted to please him. At this point he would do anything to prove to you that he’s yours.

He watches with wide eyes as you strip yourself as well, walking over to stand over him. The look on your face is one he’s only ever seen a few times, pure rage. You looked like you wanted to rip him to pieces, it was honestly turning him on. You swing your leg over his hips so you can straddle him and he moans when he feels your wet pussy touch his thigh.

“Ugh - god you smell fucking horrible Eddie.”

The scent of the other omega still lingered on his skin and you wanted to rip it off. You glare at him as you grab his cock in your hand and spit on it, pumping him a few times before raising up to line him up with your entrance, immediately slamming down on him and inserting him fully inside you. You don’t even give him time to process the feeling of your warm pussy engulfing him, you just start riding him like your life depends on it, because right now it feels like it does. He’s a moaning mess beneath you, his hands gripping onto your hips for dear life while he watches you bounce on his cock, mesmerized by the sight of you.

“Tell me whose cock this is Eddie, tell me who you belong to.” Your hips are flush against his while you rock back and forth on his cock, his head rubbing against your g-spot deliciously. Your hands are planted on his chest and your nails dig into his flesh, wanting to mark him in any way possible.

“It’s your - yours baby! I promise I p-promise, it’s always - fuck! - it’s always been yours!!” You start bouncing on his cock again, using his chest for leverage to slam up and down on him over and over again.

“You’re fucking mine Eddie, my Alpha!! Mine mine mine.” You drag your nails down his chest before leaning forward to rub your nose along his neck. You felt a rush of relief when it only smelled like him, she might’ve touched him but she didn’t scent him.

Your hips slowed and Eddie took it as an opportunity to tighten his grip on your hips and start fucking up into you.

“I’m yours and you’re mine princess.” He’s pistoling his cock into you now, getting deeper and going harder than you could yourself and an orgasm quickly creeps up on you. He feels you clench around him while your cum coats his cock. “This is my fucking pussy, you’re my fucking omega.”

You’re moaning so loud you’re sure your neighbors can hear you, your nails digging so deep into his chest that they’re breaking skin now and your nose is shoved into his neck, inhaling his scent while he fucks you so hard it makes you whole body vibrate. You latch your lips onto his neck and suck causing him to throw his head back and growl, fucking you impossibly harder.

“Gonna fill this fucking pussy up, maybe I’ll knock you up then everyone will know exactly who you belong to. Who I belong to.” His hands grip onto your ass and he plants his feet onto the couch as his thrusts pick up, the thought of you with his baby inside you making him insane.

“Yes y - yes! Breed my pussy alpha! Fill me up! I want it I - f - fuck! I want it so bad please please.”

“Yeah baby? You want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you?” You whimper and nod into his neck but that’s not enough for him, he grabs you by your hair pulling your face up so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me you want it, tell me you want me to fuck a baby into, tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours! I’m yours! I’ve always been yours, I want it, I want you to breed me alpha!”

The sound of you begging him to begging him to do the one thing his body is programmed to do above all else drives him insane. He knows you aren’t on any kind of omega safe birth control yet and the possibility of it sticking makes him absolutely feral.

“Mark me Eddie, I want you to mate me!” He looks at the almost healed bite mark on your neck, you both know he technically already did but he understands what you mean, understands that you want to know it’s happening this time. So he runs his nose along the mark before sinking his teeth into your throat.

The feeling sends you both over the edge. Your walls tighten around him while he pumps you full of his cum. A few seconds later you feel that now familiar stinging as his knot expands inside you. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you with a passion that you’ve always dreamed of. This kiss feels like your real first kiss and it makes warmth blossom inside you. He pulls away so he can look you in the eyes, his hands still cupping your face while he rubs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“I love you, you know? I’ve always loved you. I just never thought I was good enough, never thought you would feel the same way. So I pushed those feelings down, and buried them in person after person and I know that’s awful. But please let me prove to you how much you mean to me, forever.”

“I love you Eddie Munson, even though you’re a huge idiot sometimes, how you didn’t see it is beyond me. I feel like I was blindingly obvious.” You chuckle and playfully roll your eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, for all the hurt I’ve put you through, I promise I’ll never hurt you again, okay? You’re my mate now, I’m only going to protect you from here on out.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, just basking in the feeling of you.

“It’s okay Eddie, you’re mine now, and I’m not letting you go.” You lay your head on his chest and reach your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair, running your nails over his scalp.

“You think it’ll stick?”

“You were serious about that? I don’t know, only time will tell. If it doesn’t, we could always try again.” He groans and you feel him twitch inside you.

“Okay maybe let’s talk about this later because my knot is never gonna go down if I keep thinking about getting you pregnant and I really want to take a shower.” You both laugh, the kind of laughing you’ve always done together and it makes you feel whole again.

“I love you Eddie.”

“I love you princess, I’m going to spend every single day until my last proving that to you.”

You giggle and nuzzle into his neck, it feels so right, being in his arms like this. It feels like home.

[seireitonin]

Dating Toby?? Like is he clingy, jealous or protective of his partner??

(I don't know....this is my first time doing these things.....)

Toby brain rot :3 this is how I see Toby mixed with some canon information! (I’m gonna try to keep it realistic)

What would it be like dating Toby?

Toby’s life is filled with tragedy

Abuse, death, murder, mental illnesses, being a slave to Slenderman

It’s all bad

So when he finds you, someone that accepts him and loves him despite all that, he’s not letting you go

He’ll do anything for you

I mean to the point it’s unhealthy

Because hes obsessed with you

Like really obsessed with you

He’s super touchy, not only because he likes to feel close to you, but it keeps him grounded

That’s important to him because his disorders/ mental illnesses cause him to hallucinate or space out

He’s not gloomy he’s actually upbeat but when he remembers something from his past or the current state of his life he goes through episodes of depression and mood swings

They can get really intense and as you’re with him you’ll learn how to support him through it

Just laying with him, making sure he has water and reminding him you’re here for him will help lots and lots of physical affection

If his mood swings get violent he’ll isolate himself from you but it’s heartbreaking to hear his suffering

His swings can go from extreme anger to intense sadness to reckless happiness

Since he hasn’t had much kindness or interaction in his life he doesn’t have the best social skills

He’ll say whatever is on his mind with no filter and that includes you too

So he’ll say mean things unintentionally a lot because he doesn’t understand how what he says can be hurtful

And he might try to call you sensitive for it too

“Ugh you’re overreacting I didn’t even say anything that hurtful. It’s just what’s on my mind”

He literally doesn’t understand how it can make you feel because he’s a bit detached with emotions

It’s gonna take a while for him to understand but he loves you so he’ll try to understand for your sake and will work on apologizing

He can also just be rude or a jerk sometimes in general

Toby likes just spending time with you to the point where you’re connected at the hip

He won’t say he loves you with words but he says it with his actions

He brings you gifts, holds your hand, goes on walks with you, holds you and try’s to be better for you (even though it’s really hard because he’s set in his ways)

He talks a lot so sometimes you’ll just listen and smile

Since he can’t feel pain, when he gets back from missions you’ll have to help him check for injuries to make sure he’s okay

He doesn’t say it but he appreciates it

Sometimes he’ll just stare at you because he loves you so much, taking in your every detail

He notices everything about you, from your body language, how you tan in the summer and lighten in the winter, he even knows how many times you breathe in a minute

Toby eats a lot of instant ramen so be prepared to eat a lot of that at first but you start to cook for him because he needs to eat better

Toby never expected to have a girlfriend since he’s a lot to handle but he liked the way you handle him

He’s full of himself literally thinks he’s gods gift to earth so sometimes he puts himself before your relationship but he’s trying to change that

He’s really funny especially if you like dark humor

He’s a jealous man. You’re his no one else’s

If someone even looks at you romantically he’ll go crazy on them

Remember, Toby is still a murderer and enjoys murdering

Chasing them down and threatening them and if it escalated kill them with a smile

He does it all for you. Everything is for you.

“You know I love you, right?”

He looks at you covered in blood

Toby likes it when you wear his sweaters

He wants a family one day and hopes you can give that to him

He’s possessive over you but does it out of intense love and obsession

He wants to keep you safe by any means necessary because he’s so used to losing the people he loves and he really doesn’t wanna lose you

Toby drives a pickup truck and likes to drive you around in it

He likes to sit in the back of it with you and look at the stars in an open field

Since Toby’s older his tics have calmed down but they’re still there and he still has the occasional tic attack

You’ll have to help him through those because sometimes he can’t even talk when he’s having one

Stuff he can squeeze, ice pack on his forehead and making sure he doesn’t hurt himself

He’s happy you don’t see him as a burden like everyone else did

He’s never letting you go

He didn’t know he could feel love this intense

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 20] || [Chapter 22]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: - Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: yikes.

Chapter 21: I BEG YOUR PARDON?

It was a familiar sight.

Gaz across the desk, Soap next to him behind the spare chair, Ghost in the back of the room a foot against the wall and arms crossed.

Except this time, Price was standing up, pacing the narrow space behind his desk, from the window to the wall.

“Explain it to me slow.” He demanded. “Like I’m five years old.” He had his arms crossed over his chest as he paced.

“Well, when Ma and Da love each other very much-” Soap began.

“Soap, I will put your head through the bloody wall.” Price threatened.

The shit-eating grin that had been on the Scot’s mouth was suppressed by a pressing of lips together, rapid blinking, and a nod. He had tried and failed at having a laugh at the Captain’s expense.

“Sorry, sir.” He replied.

“Explain.” Price demanded again, hands folded behind his back.

“I started it.” Ghost said from his corner of the room. “Kept talkin’ with ‘em after you had your little one-night stand.”

The younger sergeants didn’t look over. It’s become a strange thing to see Ghost at work, when they’ve gotten a bit more familiarized with Simon instead, back in your flat.

“Why?” Price asked in earnest as he looked at Ghost, stopping in his tracks to properly face him.

“‘Cause they make me feel good.” Ghost replied and crossed his arms.

Price stared at Ghost and, for a moment, his glare softened and his brow relaxed. “I see.”

With a deep breath, the older man tossed himself down onto his desk chair, legs spread and hands resting on his thighs.

“That doesn’t explain the two of you lot.” He pointed at Gaz and Soap.

“I found out about Ghost dating ‘em after they reached out to me to check on him because he went MIA.” Gaz replied.

“And how does that in you bein’ a bloody… polycule?” Price asked.

“I sort of took ‘em on a date on accident and realized how they made me feel and that I wanted to date ‘em.” Gaz said simply.

“And I thought Gaz and Ghost were dating and then found out they’re in fact also dating the same person and not just each other and-” Soap began to explain.

“Pump the breaks.” Price demanded. “Dating each other?” He repeated, sounding like he was this close to blowing a gasket.

“Nicely done, mate.” Gaz said sarcastically and hid his face in his palm, accidentally dislodging his baseball hat from his head.

“I BEG YOUR PARDON? YOU BLOODY FUCKIN’ IDIOTS ARE DATIN’ EACH OTHER?” Price raised his voice and stood up swiftly, sending the chair rolling back against the cabinets behind him.

When no one replied, he glared specifically at Ghost in the back of the room who, himself, was looking off to the side and looked at Price with an incriminating gaze..

“SIMON’S IN YOUR DIRECT CHAIN OF COMMAND!” Price scolds… Soap and Gaz only. “DO YOU KNOW THE TROUBLE THAT CAN BRING?!”

The three men remain silent, eyes forced open out of worry that blinking again will just set the captain off some more.

“IT’S ALREADY BAD ENOUGH THAT YOU’RE ALL DIPPIN’ YOUR DAMN COCKS IN THE SAME HOLE LIKE THEY’RE SOME SORT OF BARRACKS BUNNY BUT-” Price continued his tirade.

“Calm down.” Ghost commanded as he pushed away from the wall and approached the desk.

“Simon, don’t you tell me to calm down.” John ordered, though his voice sounded a lot more calm indeed.

“I’ll tell you to calm down if I reckon I should.” Ghost quipped and set his hand on the edge oof the desk, using his height to go toe-to-toe with their boss.

“You had fun with ‘em too, didn’t you?” Ghost asked with a cocked brow.

“That’s neither here nor there-”

“Cut the bullshit. Answer the bloody question.” Ghost commanded.

“I did.” Price admitted with a grumble and looked away.

“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves too.” Ghost replied. “They’re considerate, funny, good company…” He trailed off.

“And they have a bloody flat that we can spend time in, with a proper kitchen for good meals, and a proper bedroom with a comfortable bed, and a proper shower that doesn’t have 20 other blokes bum ass naked-” Gaz joked.

“Right, it’s only 2 other blokes instead.” Soap added and him and Gaz nudged each other, earning a stern glare from the two officers in the room.

“Point is-” Ghost replied as he looked at Price. “You saw they’re nice.” He said directly. “Can’t fault us for likin’ ‘em.” He said directly.

“No, but I can fault you idiots for bein’ involved with each other on TOP of ‘em.” Price argued.

“Okay, so it’s not our proudest moment-” Ghost acknowledged. “But it’s happenin’. And you need to keep your mouth shut.” He demanded.

“OF BLOODY COURSE I’M KEEPIN’ MY MOUTH SHUT, SIMON! Fuckin’ hell!” Price complained and threw his hands up before turning to grab a cigar from his case.

“The brass will have all our bollocks f’r breakin’ nonfraternization rules. You f’r doin’ it, me f’r knowin’ it.” He grumbled as he cut the tip of his cigar with a huff.

“Not to mention I’ve been involved in this mess to begin with ‘cause I let you lot talk me into havin’ a one-night stand with ‘em.” Price continued, murmuring under his breath and scolding them without really scolding them.

“I can never get a ’old of you lot noawadays.” Price explained. “You’re meant to be on call.” He reiterated. “Always reachable. Always ready to fly out.”

“Yet I had to call Soap over 40 times two weeks ago ‘cause he was ‘asleep’-” He continued his rant.

“Aye, I was.” Soap replied, earning a shush from Gaz and a smack on the arm.

“And the moment we dismiss you lot from debriefs or meetings, you’re all running off to go be with ‘em, ‘xcept I didn’t know that was the reason until now, and it’s so much bloody worse than I ‘xpected.” Price complained.

The man was halfway through lighting his cigar and taking a puff when Ghost spoke again.

“If they didn’t find out about Cardiff, London, Cairo, Cabo, or Tel Aviv, they won’t find out now.” Ghost retorted.

Price whipped around so fast the younger lads could swear he’d give himself whiplash. “Don’t you bring that up.” He said to Ghost as he used his cigar to point at Ghost.

“I’m just sayin’.” Ghost replied, completely calm and unbothered. “If the brass hasn’t found out about the shite we’ve done while on the field, they won’t find out about us during leave.” He replied.

“Simon-” Price tried starting before he huffed through his nose and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Ghost simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell.” Price complained and sat back down on his chair, setting down his cigar on the lip of the ashtray and rubbing his face.

“Just get out.” He grumbled and waved them off with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

He didn’t peek from the spot where his face was hidden in his hands as he heard the men shuffling around and leaving the office.

Just as the door slipped to a close behind them, he heard Soap asking Ghost: ‘What happened in Cardiff?’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 8 - ( c.s )

part seven

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- ANGST! it’s just fluff and angst get ready baby

a/n: hellllooooooooo sorry everything takes me fucking forever to write but i am once again back hehe i truly hope you enjoy

despite what many people might think, chris has never been on a proper date in his life. and it’s silly to admit, considering he’s hung out with women in so so many different contexts, but it’s never been formal like that.

he swears he’s never even said the word out loud, as if he was scared of getting infected with real feelings, scared of things getting too serious. so he vowed there would be no flowers, no fancy dinners, no romance. just pure physical connections.

and it stayed that way for so long that he figured it would never change. he’d be a bachelor forever, hopping from girl to girl, showing them no more vulnerability than a simple smile.

then he met you, got to know you, and that mindset disappeared. the fear of being blindsided is still there, nestled somewhere deep in the trenches of his heart.

but to him, you’re worth the potential heartbreak.

so when he shows up at your doorstep with a bouquet of tulips saturday afternoon, it’s a bit of a surprise for the both of you, though not an unwelcome one.

“there’s my pretty girl.” chris smiles, trying desperately to play off his nerves.

my pretty girl. the words ring through your head like a church bell, and even though it’s embarrassing, you’re unable to stop beaming at him.

“what are you doing here?” you ask curiously as he hands the flowers over.

he swallows thickly, shoving his now-freed hands in his pockets. “i wanted to ask you out. on, like, a real date.”

for a moment you think you’ve heard him wrong, or that this must be some kind of prank. in what world would chris sturniolo, infamous playboy, be throwing in the towel and dating? let alone dating you?

but his face remains eerily serious. you can tell he’s a little anxious by the way he’s shuffling his feet, which is endearing. you’re not sure he’s ever done this before, and yet it's the sweetest gesture.

you’re pleasantly shocked by the happiness that’s washing over your body, and as much as you don’t want to give into it, it’s almost impossible not to.

“i think i can definitely squeeze that into my calendar.” you grin.

he visibly relaxes, chuckling slightly at your response as he shakes his head. “next time i’ll schedule it with your secretary.”

the fact that he said next time almost makes you freeze, but you play it off without skipping a beat. your heart is doing backflips, so you clutch the flowers and try to contain it.

“you know the drill, i’m a busy woman.” you shrug playfully.

“be ready by seven?” it’s a question more than a request, because he’s not fully confident that you actually are free.

“yeah,” you nod, stepping closer to give him a kiss of reassurance, “i’ll see you then.”

even feeling your lips on his for a second drives chris absolutely crazy. but there’s plenty of time for that later. right now he’s the perfect gentleman, the guy you deserve.

“oh my god, is it seven already?” ramona checks her watch from the couch, completely in a daze.

she's been religiously rewatching her favorite show, swearing that it inspires her to work on the project she’s been procrastinating. you know she’s too invested for that to be true, but you can’t blame her.

“it’s time indeed.” you nod, slipping your feet into your knee highs.

“oh my gosh, you look so good!” she gushes, popping up from her spot to come wrap you in a hug.

mona barely gives you time to fully zip up your shoes, and you both almost go toppling. you can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, straightening up so you can hold her back.

“jesus, you could’ve given me one more second.” you tease as you pull away.

“sorry, cuteness aggression. i think i’m just too excited for you.” she apologizes, even though she knows you’re not actually angry.

“i’m happy you approve.”

it’s the truth; having both of your roommates’ support means the world to you. especially since you’re falling for him, which is terrifying on its own.

you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this serious about a guy, but it feels so good.

ramona smiles right as the doorbell rings, and you hear cassidy come bounding down the stairs. she looks bewildered, definitely startled awake from her nap, and you can’t help but laugh.

“he’s here! and damn, you look sexy bitch.” she says, joining the two of you by the living room.

you smile as she pushes you forward slightly, shaking your head. “you guys are embarrassing me.”

“payback for the millions of times you’ve done it to us.” cass snaps back playfully.

ramona rolls her eyes, waving you to continue to the door as she tugs her counterpart into the kitchen. “no fighting, go have fun! we love you!”

you let out a breath, squaring your shoulders and raising your chin as you step toward the door. you’re more nervous than you expected to be, but when you pull open the door it’s like you immediately relax.

seeing chris dressed up in a quarter zip and those ripped jeans you adore on him makes your heart swell. the easy-going expression on his face calms your anxiety almost instantly.

you see his own eyes travel down to your exposed legs, covered only by your favorite little black skirt. your off-the-shoulder long sleeve is hidden slightly by your leather jacket, bold makeup accentuating your features.

he feels like he’s suffocating, seeing you look this good knowing it’s all for him. that you’re almost his. he wants to taste you, to ruin your lipgloss just to feel you on his mouth.

“you look…unreal.” he breathes, offering you his hand as you step out to join him on the front step.

“you look pretty great too.” you admit sheepishly, and he gives you a gentle kiss because he can’t help it.

you chuckle under your breath as he pulls away, wiping the gloss from his mouth with your thumb gently. chris just smiles, kissing the pad of your finger briefly before tangling his hand in yours.

“come on, we can’t be late to our first official dinner reservation.” chris urges as he leads you to his car.

he’s embarrassingly giddy as he holds the passenger door open, and you hop inside happily. it’s become one of your favorite spots, riding around next to him with his hand on your thigh.

tonight is no different. his thumb brushes against your skin reassuringly as you hum under your breath, watching chris drive out of the corner of your eye.

he’s just so handsome, especially right now. you’ve always known that, but it’s different. you care about him so much that just looking at his face kind of makes your day, as horrifyingly honest as that is.

you can’t help but smile to yourself, and he pulls into the parking lot of a fancy little restaurant a few moments later.

“i’ve always wanted to try this place, you know. i just never had the right occasion.” you admit as chris helps you back out of the car.

he laughs slightly, hand snaking its way to your waist after he closes the door behind you. “i haven’t either, but you’re the only worthy occasion i can imagine.”

you feel your cheeks heat up slightly. “stop flattering me, i know you just want to get lucky after we’re done.”

“i want a lot more than that, sweetheart.” chris replies truthfully, kind of enjoying letting his mouth run. he’s held his feelings in so much lately that it’s nice to just be honest.

meanwhile you’re desperately trying not to read into his words too much, but at this point it’s hard not to. it seems like he truly does like you, and for the first time in your life you might actually see a future with someone.

once you’re inside, the hostess guides you to a nice booth in the corner, smiling sweetly at chris as she leaves. it doesn’t matter; he’s got his hand in yours, and he’s not looking at anyone besides you as you sit down.

“quit staring at me like that.” you tease, even though you’re only half-joking.

chris tilts his head to the side, smirking at you like he can read your mind. “why, does it make you nervous?”

“no.” you lie, and he just shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you.

your waiter saves you a moment later and you order your drinks; a beer for him and a margarita for you. by the time they’re on the table, you and chris are already deep in your usual random conversation.

it’s impossible to stop looking into his eyes as you chat, your foot bumping against his as you both lean forward towards each other. his fingers dance across the top of your hand, simply because he’s unable to go more than a minute without physical contact, especially when you look so gorgeous.

you’re halfway through the actual meal when you’re finally forced to excuse yourself and use the bathroom, even though you don’t want to leave for even a minute.

“don’t miss me too much.” you joke, sliding out of your side of the booth to give him a quick kiss.

“you know i will.” he smiles as you pull away, watching you head toward the restroom with hearts in his eyes.

looking at yourself in the mirror once you’re done only confirms what you already knew; you’re having the best first date ever. your reflection smiles at you as you wash your hands, so wrapped up in your own head that you barely notice the girl who comes up beside you until she clears her throat.

startled, you glance her direction, only to find that she’s already staring right at you. your stomach bottoms out as your body fills with dread for a reason you’re not yet sure of.

“uh…can i help you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she flips her long brown hair over her shoulder, cat-like eyes narrowing just a bit. “so, you’re chris’s little plaything, huh?”

you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it simply won’t go away. “that depends on who’s asking.”

the girl scoffs, turning away from you just a bit so that she can reapply her lipstick in the mirror. “the girl who fucked him three weeks ago when you walked out, that’s who’s asking.”

the acidic taste of bile fills your mouth, and you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up. your ears ring and the world shrinks, like there’s no air left to breathe.

how the fuck does she even know that? did he talk to her about you? your mind is spiraling out of control, thinking about every single aspect of that fateful morning.

you see her smile sharply at your reaction, satisfied that she’s caught you off guard. it’s impossible to compose yourself, though, because everything is coming crashing down.

“c’mon babe, you thought he really liked you? he didn’t even wait twenty-four hours to get on top of me.”

“he wouldn’t.” you whisper, even though you know that’s not the truth.

this time she actually barks out a laugh, tossing her tube of lipstick back in her bag before turning to face you once more. it doesn’t help that she’s undeniably gorgeous, exactly his type.

“he would, and he did. but if you don’t believe me, just ask him. mention the name daniela and you’ll see for yourself.” she says, fixing her hair one more time before stepping around you to get to the door.

you hear it slam behind her, still rooted in the same place, unable to move. you don’t want to believe it, but she was speaking with such certainty that you’re already convinced.

tears sting your eyes like salt in the wound. your face is no longer filled with the cheerfulness it possessed a few moments ago; now you just look crestfallen. but you won’t give in to your emotions yet, not without confirmation.

you don’t want to face chris, but you know you have to. so you send your roommates an SOS text to ensure you have a ride home, and then you steel yourself to go back.

you have no idea where daniela went, but it doesn’t matter because you don’t look anywhere but straight ahead as you walk. your whole body is tingling, entirely on the verge of breaking down as you find your way to the table.

not yet, not yet, not yet.

the second his face lights up at your return, you want to crumble. he looks so sweet, the boy you thought had finally changed for you. but then he notes your tight expression, and a frown replaces the grin.

you don’t sit down. you just blink at him for a second, trying to force the words out. you’re silent until he opens his mouth to speak, which finally empowers you enough to cut him off.

“tell me about daniela.”

he straightens uncomfortably at the mention of her name, which already gives you your answer. your heart twists, so much so that it physically hurts inside your chest.

“what?” chris responds, staring at you dumbly.

“did you or did you not sleep with a girl named daniela a day after me?” you ask as calmly as possible, ignoring the fact that your fingernails are digging into the skin of your palm.

his face somehow contorts to look even more grim, and you shake your head slowly. a smile of disbelief makes its way across your lips, which you suppose is better than sobbing.

“yeah, i’m done here.” you snap, yanking your jacket and purse up before turning on your heel.

“please—” his hand circles your wrist and you yank it away without a second thought, not caring if anyone sees.

you just keep walking. everything is completely numb at this point. it doesn’t even feel like you’re in your own body, you’re just moving. the fresh air hits you as you step outside and you inhale the cold, letting it shock you awake a bit.

you unravel your jacket from your arms and put it on as you book it through the parking lot, only to realize that you’re shaking.

the double doors burst open behind you, and you hear him shouting your name, but you still don’t stop. his heavy footsteps increase in pace, and you make it to the sidewalk just outside the restaurant when he finally catches up.

“please, just give me the chance to explain.” chris begs, once again reaching for your hand to try and slow you down.

you stop, only to shove him away from you with a surprising burst of power. he let’s go, but he’s still looking at you desperately as if it’s not black and white.

“there’s nothing to explain. in fact, this is exactly why i fucking hated you so much to begin with, why i was so hesitant to let myself believe that you could actually feel something for anyone besides yourself. you made me look like an idiot, thinking that you’d changed at all.” you lash out, unable to control the rage spilling out of your mouth.

he winces, visibly hurt from your words, but he powers through anyways. “i immediately knew i made a huge mistake, and even though i did it thinking it would make me feel better, it made everything worse. when you left that morning i thought it was over for me, and it hurt in a way that i’ve never felt before because i really fucking care about you.”

you snort, crossing your arms over you chest defensively. “yeah, well, you’re doing a fabulous job at showing it. i mean seriously, chris, do you know how fucking horrible that was? to find out from the girl herself because you couldn’t be bothered to at least be honest? and now you expect me to believe anything you say when in reality your words mean shit.”

chris feels you slipping from his fingers, so quickly that he doesn’t know how to stop it, or how to get you to trust what he’s saying. it’s a type of distress that he’s never been through before, because he’s never gotten attached.

“i know i fucked up, and i know i should’ve never even responded to her in the first place. i don’t have the right to ask you to trust me, but i need you to know that it didn’t mean anything to me.” he pleads, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice now.

you feel your eyes burning again as you meet his gaze, and you’re not sure if it’s hurt or frustration making you cry.

“it means something to me. i put my faith in you enough to go all the way, to let my guard down this past month and admit to myself that i do have feelings for you. and now i look just as stupid as everyone told me i would, even though i really did trust you so much. i thought things were different, that you wouldn’t dare do that to me.” you’re choking on your tears as you speak, and all he wants to do is reach out and wipe them away but he can’t.

you take a step back, almost instinctively. “but you did, and now it’s over.”

chris feels his whole world stop for a second. he takes in every inch of your heartbroken face; eyes wide and red, tears streaking down your cheeks as you hold yourself in your own arms.

he hates himself so much, more than he ever has in his life, for destroying things with the only person that matters. especially on a night that was supposed to be so special.

“i’m begging you not to do this. i’m so, so sorry that i ruined your confidence in me, but it’s only ever been you. you live in my thoughts, in my dreams, in every single goddamn place i go. and it took me way too long to say it, but i want to be with you so badly that it kills me. you know this is real, and i will do anything to prove it to you.” he takes a step closer, but you move away and put your hand up as a warning.

it’s everything you’ve been wanting him to tell you, but it’s too late. you don’t know how to forgive him yet, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to forget.

“i can’t, chris. i just…i don’t know anymore.” you sound so defeated, but you don’t care.

by the grace of god, your friends pull up at the exact right moment to save you. cass throws her hazards on and stops the car, glaring bullets at him through the glass as she waits for you to get in.

you’re done talking for now, and chris recognizes that. there’s nothing he can do or say to take it back, and as much as he wants to keep trying, it’ll only push you even further. so he nods his head once solemnly, vision beginning to blur as he takes all of you in one last time.

you’re the girl of his dreams, and he’s absolutely fucked it.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he repeats as you pile into the backseat, unable to conjure up any words besides those ones.

it registers in your head, but you don’t respond. you can’t even look at him anymore, because it’s too hard to think about what could have been. so you close the door hard, determined to shut him out of your life for good this time.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi

[eloquentlytired]

— when the time comes

pairing: old man!logan howlett x gn! reader

word count: no idea but this one isn't very long.

part two is out!

tags: major character death — angst — reader is logan’s sunshine — mention of blood & wounds — logan low-key proposing 5 seconds before he dies — non established relationship

author's note: this has been on my mind since 2 days ago so I had to do it now.. I hope you guys enjoy reading this heartbreak! and yes I wrote this after watching Logan (2017) again. just a bit of an alternative type of ending so I can write abt logan x reader! as always reblogs & likes & conversations are sooo welcome ^_^

god stood me up

and I don't know why

lights are on

but nobody's home

you find him leaning against a tree trunk, a chunk of wood piercing his sides open as blood soaks through his shirt. that isn't the only wound he's sporting but it's the most evident one; the one that'll possibly lead him to his demise.

logan blinks upon noticing you as if he's just seeing things or dreaming. when you crouch down beside him and place your hand on his arm, he realizes exactly just how real you are. “logan?” there are tears in your eyes and he hates that you're crying because of him again. you had been living with him, charles and caliban way before it all turned to shit. and somehow the only ones left standing were laura and you. and the kids that logan had managed to save; he truly had saved so many lives.

there's a silence aside from his heavy breathing before your shaky hands cup his face. the blood flows out of his wound and mouth like a river. in some way you're bleeding too — inside your heart. “hey sunshine.” logan whispers with a soft smile and you feel something tear your chest apart from the inside. “I made you cry again.” you see the way his hand twitches by his side. he wants to touch you but he's old and tired and wounded. there's no energy left in him to move anymore. “the kids are okay, laura is okay— I have the car and..and there's still time— the hospital—” your voice trails off when logan closed his eyes.

“you know what makes me angry, sunshine?” logan asks and you simply stare at him, shaking your head. when he opens his eyes again, they are full of unshed tears. “gonna miss my daughter’s first birthday with me—” logan mutters brokenly and the vision of laura swims beneath his half-opened eyelids. and after laura there is you; smiling. at the beach. you've always wanted to go to the beach with him but he never took you since he was working day and night to take care of everything. of everyone. “and i’m also gonna miss my sunshine.” his eyes fall on you, on your crying face. the tears sliding down your cheeks are plenty and there is so much emotion pooling in those orbs of yours. logan wants to kiss you, tell you it'll be alright. but he can’t even move.

he coughs, some blood spluttering on his white shirt and you flinch. your fingers shake as you slide them through his messy hair, stroking them in the way he’s always loved. “logan, I'm sorry...I— I'm so sorry logan..” you keep chanting and logan feels the frustration in his bones when he tries to move his arms. he can't, he's too weak now, and he's angry with himself that he's unable to comfort you the way he wants. the way he once could but never did. “not you nor the entire world could ever prevent this, sunshine. it was meant to be like this.” he says before coughing again, more blood trickling down his beard.

you crawl by his side, on the dirty ground, and press against his ‘good’ side while leaning your head on his shoulder. you tilt your head back enough for your eyes to reach his exhausted face. logan maintains a smile you haven't seen in forever. in damn years to be precise. “charles spoke to me of other timelines and some shit about— multiverse was it?” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don't fucking know. I just wanted him to take the damn pills.” his sentence makes both of you laugh although logan is holding back with that — it'll only cause more physical pain after all. “point is..if it's true then—”

“—we gotta find each other yeah? and laura.” his eyes aren't on you anymore but they're in the sky. it's bluer than ever and the clouds part to show him the sun. logan doesn't look away even if it makes his eyes ache. you stare. “wanna make it right, sunshine.” he tells you as you sniffle by him. his fingers flinch again between your bodies and you slide a single hand down to hold his own, to intertwine your fingers in a gentle mess. “but for now I want to rest.” logan whispers and your grip tightens around his hand. if he had the strength, he'd squeeze back. you knew this.

“you did excellent.” you finally manage to say, a little steadier this time. logan averts his gaze to you as you continue. “you did a good job. you did such a good job.” you repeat with a smile so soft that logan starts yearning for you already. his faint chuckle turns into a rough cough and he takes some time to recover before speaking again.

“maybe after I rest, I'll open my eyes and..” you watch as logan’s eyes begin closing and how the heaving of his chest slows. he's deathly pale by now, the veins underneath his eyes are prominent, but your grip never slackens. you crawl closer until your foreheads touch. logan draws one last breath and you swallow down your cry. “and I'll see my daughter. and my... spouse.” your eyes shoot open wide but logan’s remain fallen shut. your chest heaves up and down intensely but logan’s remains still.

when the time comes, your feet are forcefully dragging you away towards your old car while logan lies beneath the ground.

[s0urw00lf]

I don’t wanna live forever

Part two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Y/n is having a hard time coming to terms with her feelings for the guy she’s supposed to feel nothing more than a friendship with, so instead of confronting those feelings she runs away, which proves to be a mistake for her and him.

Warning: angst, heartbreak, fluff, sad angry Dean because he’s a warning in itself

An: this is my first Dean Winchester fic so i hope it lives up to your expectations. Also this is gonna be a two part series because i got carried away with setting up the plot for this. If you like this flick and the way i write i am taking requests for Sam, dean and cas so feel free to make some. Anywho love ya and i hope you enjoy.

Dean Winchester is the epitome of a girls dream guy. He’s smart, tall, and strong. Not to mention those pretty green eyes that scream ‘walking sex god’ or that cheeky ass smirk he wears when he knows he’s got a girl in his clutch. But thats not what made you fall for him, not the only reason at least. Dean Winchester has been your best friend since you both could walk. Being left to take care of Sammy while your mom and john were out hunting all through your childhood up really sealed your fate, you saw all of his most vulnerable moments and you knew those moments he needed you to break down those walls so he wouldn’t self destruct. But also you saw how much he loved, and how he fought for the people he loved, but he wouldn’t let anyone give that back to him. And thats why you loved him. Because you knew that just like him you’d do anything for him at any moments notice. You’d kill, you’d torture , you’d die If he needed.

So as you sat at a bar sipping on your martini watching dean flirt with the pretty curly headed bartender with a short skirt, your heart felt heavy within your chest and your stomach completely empty despite the large bowl of fries you were sharing with Sam. The feelings that surged through your body weren’t anger, or hatred. It was sadness and longing, knowing that even though you loved everything about that man, even though you knew him better than anyone else. Better than himself. He’d wouldn’t see you how you saw him, and no matter how much you hated it, you couldn’t hate him. Not one bit.

“Y’know if you sulk any harder people are gonna mistake you for a grounded teenager” an amused voice spoke from beside you. Your gaze broke from dean and turned to his brother, “shut up Sam” you said nudging his shoulder softly. A smile crossed the younger winchesters face, “he’s just looking for a distraction” he muttered to you, diverting his gaze over to his brother letting a frown overtake his features. Sam knew how utterly in love you and his brother were with each other, i mean anyone could see it. Except for some reason you two.

“Yeah well sleeping with a random person isn’t exactly what id call ‘a distraction’” you said bitterly, immediately feeling bad even though dean was nowhere around to hear. Sam shook his head at just how blind you were, “ i just don’t understand why he wont open up to us.” You said trying to keep your voice steady, stirring your drink around with your straw “He knows that we know how much loosing john is affecting him. Hell he’s not the only one fucking dealing. We all lost” she said trying not to let the tears forming in her eyes fall. Sam sighed “thats just how he is. It’s how he’s always been. The strong one” he said looking at his friend solemnly.

“Well it’s bullshit and he knows it” you said slamming your hands down on the table as you stood up. “Im going back to the motel” you muttered grabbing you coat from the back of your chair and trying to keep your tears at bay. Sam grabbed your wrist stopping you. “You want me to walk you?” He offered softly. “No it’s fine, i’m fine. I just need some time alone if thats okay” you said. Sam nodded letting go of your wrist, you gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead, a habit you’d formed when he was only two years old. And with that you exited the bar, not sparing a look in deans direction. You couldn’t stomach it. What you missed was the longing and worried look dean sent you as he weakly excused himself, and made his way over to Sam and began his interrogation.

While you walked your brain was racked with all of these intense emotions. But the most prominent thought was how much it was killing you. Given you’d known that Dean wasn’t the relationship type, i mean the ratio of his hookups to relationships says enough in itself. But you’d grown up together, you knew how much dean craved to be held and loved by a woman, and you were hoping by chance he’d let it be you. But as the months turned into years and years turned into a decade, you were tired. Tired of loving someone who only thought of you as a friend. Tired of loving someone who would shamelessly flirt with other women in front of you, no matter how deeply in love you showed him you were.

By time you reached the motel you’d had your mind made up, you’d apologize to the boys later but you had to go. And you knew that if you told them in person Sam’s puppy dog eyes that always worked and deans broken expression would’ve coaxed you back in. So there you are packing your bags (not that you had much to pack) and hopping into a car you’d managed to break into and Hotwire and began your way to Bobby’s.

When you arrived at Bobby’s he was shocked to see you but ultimately let you in. “Y’look like shit” he greeted looking you up in down taking in your puffy eyes. You laughed “good to see you too”. Bobby looked behind you, curiosity etched into his face “where are the other two idjits?” He asked. Your once happy expression dropped, replaced by a guilty look and you avoided his eyes as best you could. Bobby took a step forward, now concerned “peanut where are the boys” he asked a little more demanding this time. Tears pooled your eyes for what felt like the 100th time that day. “I- i left them in Wyoming” your voice broke as tears began to cascade down your face. “I didn’t tell them, they would’ve convinced me not to go” you explained. Bobby stared at the girl not sure what to do about the girl he saw as a daughter crying so freely in front of him. “Why’d ya leave? Somethin’ happen?” He asked leading you to the couch and taking a seat himself.

You shook your head “no… no nothing happened. I just couldn’t watch it anymore.” You muttered playing with your fingers in your lap trying to put your feelings into words. Bobby watched intently, and he swore he could almost see the cloud of thoughts above your head. It took about five seconds for it to click. Dean. “S’this ‘bout dean?” He leaned forward. You hesitated, finally looking up to meet them and eyes before you nodded. “It was okay before, i mean I’ve had feelings for him since we were 14 so i learned to tune it out mostly. But as we get older its just go hard, i mean I’m 26 now and I’ve seen him during relationships and hookups and its not effected me until now.” You explained, Bobby didn’t say anything, knowing that if he said the wrong thing you’d probably run up to your designated room and act like the conversation never happened.

“i think because i realized just how far id go for him, and with the way things are heating up that flame seems to grow more and more every hunt. But he doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see the raw and utter devotion i hold for him. He doesn’t see how i run off every guy because i know they wont be like him. He doesn’t see how much it hurts me to see him happy with someone else, even if it’s just for a night. And it hurts Bobby, it hurts like hell to love someone who only sees you as his best friend that much” you finished. By that point the tears were streaming down your face and he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Bobby stood up trying to keep his own tears at bay as he watched the young girl break down in front of him, he grabbed you by your wrist pulling you into a bone crushing hug as you sobbed into his shirt. The two of you stood like that until your sobs subsided, leaving you with sniffles every few seconds.

Bobby pulled away and grabbed your face “you are a smart, strong, beautiful young lady. And after all you’ve been through you deserve all the love in the world, and if dean can’t see that then he’s more of an idjit than i thought” he joked. A small laugh passed your lips and suddenly the need for sleep hit you like a ton of bricks. Bobby seemed to take notice because he sent you on your way upstairs to your room and you made no effort to fight sleep any longer.

just downstairs Bobby pulled out his phone that saw tht he had 14 missed callers from Sam and 27 from dean. He calculated how angry you’d be at him for making the decision he was about to but he’d deal with your anger over heartbreak any day. So he pressed the call back button and listened to the dial tone until deans voice replaced the noise

“Is she with you” he asked urgently, Bobby noted the sound of deans engine in the background as well as Sam asking if it was Bobby that called.

“Yeah she’s here, and you’d better have a damn good excuse for her showing up the way she did” Bobby said in an authoritative tone.

“I’m not 100% sure but i have a theory” dean replied with a distracted tone. “I don’t care what you do or don’t have. You get here and you fix it you understand boy?” “Yes sir” dean answered. Bobby then hung up, dean knew he was in deep shit if he couldn’t make things right with you

[zayne-li]

Heartbreaker Attacks!

Rating: Explicit

Length: 2.8k words

Here it is. The sex pollen fic. I forget who posted about this, but whoever it was, here you go.

I’m currently in the middle of the woods when I get a notification on my hunters watch that there is a wanderer attack nearby. I follow the coordinates through the underbrush, ducking under branches and avoiding rocks, and when I emerge, I’m in… Zayne’s backyard?

Well, sort of, the entire thing is enclosed in a high fence, but the location ping on my watch tells me that the wanderer is still ahead of me. I don't actually know if he’s home right now, but the fact that as I walk around the perimeter, it seems to be pinging from inside gets me worried fast. From inside, I can definitely hear some kind of commotion going on. But why would Heartbreaker attack a house randomly like this…? No, it wouldn’t just show up to destroy property, I decide, Zayne must be inside. At that moment I hear the distinct and familiar sound of Zayne’s ice spikes crackling and lodging themselves in something, possibly the wall. Luckily, only a few weeks ago, Zayne gave me the code to his front door, deciding it was “only fair” because I’d given him my apartment key. You know, just in case of “emergencies”. No other reason.

This is the first time I’ve used it though, and for a moment I’m not sure I can remember it. Was it 4102? No… 4210? No… Shit! 0412? Yes! The lock on the door blinks green and I push it open before pausing for a second, realizing something I hadn’t before. 

0412? That’s… My birthday.

I blink and shake my head a little. Not important right now! 

The sounds are coming from the living room, up ahead, and I think I even catch a glimpse of the little pink and purple wanderer. I can definitely hear it screeching, then from through the doorway, I see another ice spike whiz past. Heartbreaker cries, there’s the sound of something breaking, and then a heaving gasp that sounds distinctly like Zayne, before a series of hacking coughs.

When I skid to a stop in the room, Heartbreaker is gone, and with a brief glance at my watch, I see that the metaflux has dissipated. Which means that Zayne took it down. At least for now. Another glance around the room, and Zayne is leaning against an armchair with one hand, while his elbow covers his mouth. He’s still coughing. 

“Are you okay?!” I ask, trying not to sound panicked as he doubles over, now holding himself up by his elbow on the armchair. In just a few long strides, I’m at his side, hands hovering over his back, trying to assess what might be wrong. The first thing I notice is that he’s breathing hard and he’s flushed, though maybe that’s just the exertion from fighting. What I expect to see is maybe a bit of frost on his fingertips or creeping up his neck, but instead, when I place my hand tentatively on the small of his back, I realize he’s burning up. Also… The moment my fingers make contact with his body, he moans. I jerk back almost on instinct, my brow furrowing in confusion. Is he injured there? Zayne rolls his head to the side, and I can see better how he looks, red and panting. “I’m,” cough, “fine… You certainly acted quickly.”

He doesn’t look fine. His pupils are blown, and he has a hazy look in his eyes. My concern grows. I blink at him. “Did you just…”

He looks away, blushing brighter, “... Yes, I believe so.”

“I think you should sit down.” I touch his shoulder and arm to guide him, trying to get him to walk around the chair to sit down, but that touch too has a shiver going through his whole body before he tenses up, though he doesn’t try to stop me from guiding him into the seat. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I… No, not pain.” He gets out after a second, his expression pinched, almost frustrated, and he seems to be trying to avoid looking at me, keeping his gaze settled firmly on the ground and away from me as he clasps both hands in his lap. Maybe I’m imagining things, but I think I can see a bulge in his pants where his legs press together. “Let me get you some water.” “Yes… Water.” He’s distracted. When I return with a glass of water, his condition has already deteriorated drastically. He’s almost panting, one hand gripping the arm of the couch, the other in a fist on his thigh. He’s burning up when I get close, and he seems to have attempted to adjust himself in his pants in my absence. I feel a brief flash of anger go through me, just knowing that he’s in a state like this, and he’s arrogant enough to think he can get away without me noticing. I set the glass down, concerned, and drop to my knees in front of him, taking a hold of the hand on his leg. His eyes drift closed, and he moans softly. My voice is quiet, but firm. “Zayne, what did it attack you with?”

His face pinches more, and he swallows. “An aphrodisiac of some kind, I would assume, based on my symptoms. You… You should go. I’ll be fine. It’ll wear off.” “You’re an idiot if you think I’m just going to leave you here. Do you have any idea what will happen to you if this is left to work its way through your system?” He does. He’s seen patients exhibiting these same symptoms before, on rare occasions. In a hospital setting, there’s not much to do for them except keep their body temperature down and make sure they’re hydrated. From what he’s seen, detoxifying this particular poison is excruciatingly painful, regardless of the drug they're given to ease it. He should drink that water. “Yes.”

“Well so do I, so no, you’re not going to make me go anywhere right now.” I lean over him, hands on his thighs, and he suddenly looks up into my eyes, so needy, and whimpers. “You’d do the same thing if I was in your position, right?”

After a second, a short nod, though it looks like it pains him. “I would.”

“Then stop being a hypocrite.”

His eyes get a little wider as he looks up at me, “But what if I can’t co–”

“Don’t start that again.” I shoot him a look, and sigh at the worry on his face. My hand strokes his cheek and hair for a second, and it seems that’s all he really needs as he deflates a little, leaning into my palm and letting out a soft little grunt from the back of his throat.

I reach forward between his legs, and they seem to part for me almost instinctively. When my hands cups him through his trousers, his head falls back, and his hips rise up to meet me. The sound he makes as I squeeze down on him is a soft, high pitched moan. He’s still gripping the armrest with one hand, and I swear his knuckles are turning white already.

“Please… I need…” Already Zayne sounds a little wrecked, his voice low and desperate. The heat of his cock is heavy in my hand, and I squeeze down a little harder one more time, pulling another groan from him before I let go. “I know what you need.” I reassure him, and start to work on my clothes. My hunter’s uniform is a little complicated to get off, but the good news is that I’ve had a lot of practice. First the belts, then vest, boots, and in only a few seconds I’m shucking off the tight pants, leaving me only in my white button down. When I look up, I realize that Zayne has been drinking in the sight of me undressing the entire time, and one of his hands has now taken place of my own, where he seems to be gripping himself pretty damn tightly, enough that the veins and tendons on his hand have become more prominent than usual. 

As I take a step closer to him, he reaches out, grabbing hold of me to touch me everywhere, and all pretense is lost to him. Squeezing at my ass, my hips, my thighs, everywhere he can reach until he has a strong enough grip to rut me against him. His head falls onto my shoulder, and he’s whining, wordless. I let him do that for a minute or two, locked against him in his strong arms while his hips move beneath me, and then I grab his arm to make him stop. Even though he could easily overpower me, he ceases desperately grinding himself on me, and looks up with wide eyes, blown out by his lust, like a puppy begging for food. Or maybe like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong, and is about to receive a scolding. I brace one arm on his chest, and with the other move back on his lap. He watches, rapt as I undo his pants and pull out his cock. It’s already leaking, red, and throbbing in my grip.

The first touch has him swearing quietly, hips moving into my hand. I squeeze down on the tip as I stroke upwards, and he lets out a broken sound, his body arching for a second. So I do it again, and again, watching him as his head rolls to the side, and he seems incapable of closing his mouth.

“Too hot…” He chokes out. And he is sweating, almost through his shirt already. Were he alone, I think, this is the point by now where he would have attempted to get himself into a cold shower. 

“Let me help you then.”

I start undressing him, and it seems like every brush against him, clothed or not has him reacting, letting out little whines and moans, and he’s almost trembling with the effort to contain himself. Sometimes it even sounds like he’s trying to speak, but every plea comes out half formed. I offer encouragement to him until he’s completely bare, and help him stand so I can lay him down on the couch. I press my full weight on top of him. He’s about to lose his mind, his neck and back arching underneath me, hands tight on my waist. 

“Hey,” I murmur against his throat, and he moans. He’s so hard that I can feel a wet sticky mess starting to form between us, “you still with me?” I ask him, against his lips, barely brushing against them with my own. Zayne just groans and captures my mouth in a bruising kiss, letting go of my hips to hold me by the back of neck to him. His tongue probes at my bottom lip, and he’s moaning so softly and so desperately that I feel a surge of heat between my legs. I open my mouth to him, and he moans louder, his tongue invading me the moment he’s given permission, licking into my mouth, like he’s trying to taste and memorize every part of it. 

When he finally lets me go, he’s gasping, and his lips are now swollen, pink, and shiny with our shared spit. 

It’s frankly, an amazing look on him. 

“I’m here…” He pants, his voice hoarse as his dazed expression meets mine. I’ve never seen him like this before, it’s like he’s almost drunk on sex, and we haven’t even had it yet. “Just… Need you… Please…” Zayne begs, quiet and small, and he speaks slowly, like he’s unsure how to properly voice his own desires. For just a second, I’m overwhelmed by just how… cute he is. It’s my turn to swear under my breath, and I can’t help pulling him into another kiss, which he accepts gratefully. 

I reach my hand between us, rising up on my hips and scooting forward to position myself over him. When I grab his cock he seems to finally realize what I’m doing, and for a second I’m worried he’s forgotten how to breathe, with the way he suddenly goes almost entirely still. His erection is slick already, and I use the mess of cum he’s made on himself to stroke him a few times, until his cock is coated in his own seed. Zayne’s head arches back against the cushion of the couch, and the leg he has braced on the floor moves inwards, jostling me a little as I press the tip of his cock against me. I rub it against me a few times, looking down at the debauched mess of himself that Zayne has already become, and fuck if I don’t feel myself almost gush between my legs. 

“Please don’t tease me.” He sounds almost broken, begging as he tries to arch up into my cunt, whining when I place a hand on his hip to keep him still.

“I’m not, I promise.” I try to reassure him by rubbing my thumb against his skin, where I’ve braced myself on his chest. Then, I get his cock to catch on the rim of my entrance, and sink down all in one go. It nearly takes the breath out of my lungs, the sudden fullness and heat of him inside me, and I let out a few soft gasps. 

“Oh, fuck…” Zayne whimpers beneath me, his voice high and thready. His hands twitch for a fraction of a second, and then he grabs at my waist, like he needs something to just ground him. I start to move, slowly at first, and watch his face screw up almost like he’s in pain, but I think really he’s just trying to stay still. My breath comes out heavier as I brace both hands on his chest and move on him faster, rolling my hips atop his own.

And God, it feels so good that I start to get lost in it myself a little, chasing my own pleasure with his cock, and when I look down at him I see him watching me, his mouth open, and he’s making the cutest little sounds with every movement, growing faster with each passing moment, and then I see it. I don’t stop riding him while I watch his back arch, his eyes close, and his body start to twitch and tremble while I feel him pulsing inside of me. He’s almost silent during his orgasm, only gasping softly, as if he doesn’t have the breath to make another sound.

I don’t cum yet, but I can feel myself clenching down around him at the sight of him coming undone. His hair is messy, his cheeks and ears bright red, and his chest is heaving underneath my palms. He looks completely fucked out, boneless, and like he’s barely aware of his surroundings. 

My hips keep grinding down onto his cock that hasn’t started to soften yet, and I try to angle myself so that I can fuck down almost onto his public bone, because I know if I can get my clit just a little bit of– “Oh god!” I choke out, and start to ride him hard and fast as I feel my orgasm start to wash over me, and I feel how wet it’s getting between us, the squelch getting louder and louder while I work my way through it. 

In the haze, I dimly become aware of Zayne’s hands now taking a bruising grip on my hips, and the pained groans and whines that start to come from him while I use his overstimulated cock. “Oh fuck, oh, mmm, wait, I can’t–” He starts to protest, but during the fall of my orgasm, I feel him start to cum again, in a matter of seconds. This time he is not so quiet. Instead he keens, and inside of me his cock jumps wildly, spurting into me over and over, and as Zayne gasps and shudders through it, for a second I think both of us are wondering if it’ll ever end. 

As it ebbs away, he makes a little sobbing sound, and while I catch my own breath, I feel that he’s still holding tight to my hips. I lean heavily over him, tightening around his cock a few times as I feel it start to soften inside of me, and hear Zayne’s small, almost pained grunt. There’s a long silence, neither of us speaking or looking at each other until I feel his cock slip out of me, flopping back down between his own legs, and then I raise up to look at him. I wonder if I look as disheveled as he does. Not that it matters, because he’s looking up at me and his eyes are almost sparkling. I clear my throat, “Better?”

Zayne huffs a chuckle, and instead looks at his hands as they start to move up and down my thighs, his voice still hoarse, “Yes, much… But I’m afraid I might need a follow up appointment, doctor.”

I roll my eyes, and crawl back over him to steal another short kiss. I don’t miss the way he tries to follow my lips for a second. “Well, then I guess we’ll just have to schedule one.”

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

content warning: this took SUCH a turn to dom eddie munson wanting to make steve harrington just absolutely one, turn his brain off, and two- realize that his interests aren’t stupid. like it’s not… necessarily explicit on here but when this gets a bit more fleshed out… it’s gonna have to be posted on ao3 😂

-

The thing is, Steve Harrington knows hair- okay?

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, that they think that most of the time his affinity for it is a bit narcissistic. That he shouldn’t spend as much time as he does on it and he should “let go sometimes”, but he can’t.

He can remember watching his mother years ago in the bathroom mirror teach him how to style his hair, with little spritzes of water and a just a few puffs of sweet smelling hairspray. He can fully and thoroughly recall flipping through magazines when he was younger, back when his parents had started to travel, and taking beauty tips from the pages in regards to detangling. He’d spent three days with a knot at the nape of his neck, after a few days of swim practice, and he had too much pride at the time to ask anyone for help.

But anyway, Steve Harrington knows hair- and it’s not that he thinks other people don’t… but he also knows that some people don’t care as much as he does. And that’s why watching Eddie Munson take a brush to his curls (completely dry which is painful in it of itself) is absolutely heartbreaking in the weirdest way possible.

Steve also is completely and totally aware that his face must be doing… something, because Eddie has turned around to fully face him- instead of glaring daggers at his own reflection.

“What, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head quickly, fingers drumming against his thighs as he diverted his attention to the tv again. He hadn’t had a television in his room before actually, had figured it’d be a bit too much of a distraction from trying to sleep. Steve is sure there’s some study about the light too, a study Robin had rambled to him before.

That’d been before Vecna though, before the year 1986 and all of it’s horrors that it brought along to the town Hawkins once again. In Steve’s mind? A small tv and a couple of VHS tapes was probably the least of his worries after surviving everything. The tv itself had some poorly made horror movie on, something Eddie had brought along from his government provided home, while the two waited on Robin and Nancy to make their way over.

“Stevie?” Eddie had moved closer, brows slightly furrowed as his dark eyes widened. “What’s on your mind, man? Not getting like…” Eddie mimed wiggling his fingers at the side of his own head, and Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that made it’s way out from his throat. “Okay so Vecna is not getting his creepy hands on you… so what’s up then?”

Steve took a moment and shrugged, before he let himself card a wide-splayed hand through his own hair. The hairspray was just ever so slightly crunchy under his fingers, and Steve huffed as he shrugged again.

“It’s so stupid man, like don’t even worry about it.” Steve flapped a hand in Eddie’s direction, and Eddie was quick to click his tongue against the back of his teeth as he moved closer.

“Nuh uh, big boy.” Eddie eased himself onto the foot of the bed, and Steve forced himself to not scrunch his nose as Eddie’s dry curls swished a bit around his shoulders. “C’mon I can see it in your eyes! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell m-”

Steve cut Eddie off with a press of a flat palm up against Eddie’s lips, and Steve tried to not think about how soft Eddie was up against Steve’s skin. Steve groaned as Eddie’s tongue swiped against his flesh, and Steve hissed as he reared backward away from the older teen.

“Fucking gross dude!”

“Usually I’m the one doing that, big boy!”

Steve and Eddie both spoke up at the same time, and the two eyed each other warily, before they split into soft laughs between the two. Eddie then shifted further up onto the bed, back pressed up against the footboard, before he knocked his leg against Steve’s.

“C’mon dude, what’s up?”

“Your hair!” Steve finally answered, before he then folded his arms over his chest. “I know it’s stupid, but watching you tear a brush through it dry is actually breaking my heart, Munson.” Steve groaned, and ran a hand over his face before he continued. “And I know it’s stupid and everyone always says it’s stupid of me to care about hair so much-”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie’s firm tone cut Steve off, and Steve glanced back toward the man through his lashes. Eddie’s jaw is set, firm and unyielding, and Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Fuck man, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re… fuck sweetheart, you’re allowed to enjoy things.” Eddie’s voice has gone saccharine sweet, soft and gooey- and the tone has an immediate effect on Steve, making his brain feel all fuzzy and soft. “So, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

Steve doesn’t answer and instead just shrugged again, and it draws a quick intake of breath from Eddie- before the man has pushed himself up and off of Steve’s bed. He’s quick and methodical in his movements, scraping his curls up and off of his neck into a low bun at his nape. Eddie then pulled his boots back on, before he checked his pockets for a moment, and then proceeded to nod to himself. Eddie then extended a hand out to Steve, and wiggled his fingers with a small grin on his face.

“C’mon then, dude. We need to go to the store.”

Steve let his hand meet Eddie’s, and is quick to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the touch. His hands, Eddie’s, are larger than his but the fingers skinnier and calloused from what Steve knows to be years of guitar playing. That, and Eddie now has a pretty decent job at the local mechanic shop, and Steve knows that Eddie enjoys the job. Knows that Eddie likes working with his hands, and Steve tried to ignore the idea of Eddie getting those hands on Steve—

“Stevie?” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s eyes, and Steve shook himself out of his revere. Steve sent Eddie a nervous smile, and he tried to ignore the flush of heat he can feel under his cheeks at the soft coo that Eddie let out. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Steve bobbed his head in a quick nod, even when Eddie hummed before he moved as to grab the pair of Nikes that Steve had on earlier in the day. “Where are we uh, headed?”

“You and I-” Eddie moved back to Steve, and he curled a hand around Steve’s right ankle before he pulled- which caused Steve to unsteadily rock back, before he clamped a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I gotcha don’t ya worry baby-” Eddie murmured, soft and saccharine again, before he continued on as if Steve’s heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest. Eddie worked Steve’s Nike onto his foot, methodical in tying the laces tight, double-knotted just like Steve does. “You and me are gonna make our way out to Anderson for the afternoon.”

“But why?”

Eddie just sighed, soft and slow at Steve’s softly asked question, before he grabbed at Steve’s left foot, and set about slipping the other shoe onto it. Eddie took a moment, made sure to tie the laces of the shoe tight, before he stood back up so he could peer down slightly at Steve. Steve doesn’t move as Eddie pinched Steve’s chin soft in between his thumb and pointer, before Eddie slightly shook Steve’s face from side to side.

It’s enough that something in Steve just burns.

“Because Anderson has a nice and big hair supply shop in it, and we’re gonna go spend a little bit of government hush money there.” Eddie cooed, his voice soul-achingly sweet again, and Steve forced himself to swallow down the saliva that had been quick to pool in his mouth at Eddie’s tone. “And then when we’re done, I’ll drive us back here and you can do anything you want to my hair.”

“Anything?” Steve croaked, eyes wide as he kept his eyes on Eddie’s from under his lashes. Eddie’s smile is gleaming, and Eddie hummed quietly as he nodded himself.

“Absolutely anything, sweet thing.”

Steve Harrington knows hair, and he knows that.

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, well, it’s seems like except for Eddie. So Steve let himself smile and nod, and he reveled in the way that Eddie grinned- a quick flash of teeth as he pinched a little firmer at the meat of Steve’s chin, before he let go.

“Atta boy.”

-

just a little sacrifice to the tumblr readmore gods

[tarot-by-e11e]

PAC: "What do you need to let go of?" (call-out from your guides)

"Once we rid ourselves of the shackles of our own self-imposed limitations, we will be able to soar higher and further than the birds in the sky." - said by me

(reminder: this is for entertainment purposes only. Only take what resonates) Choose with mic will lovingly call you out~

Pile 1:

Pile 1: 8 of Coins, Judgement, 7 of Cups, 3 of Cups

Right off the bat, the first phrase I heard was, “unrealistic high standards”. Oomph. *nervously looking away*

Pile 1, by any chance, are you known as the “resident heartbreaker” in your community because of the trail of broken hearts you leave behind? It’s great to have standards but you need also to remember that nobody’s perfect, not even you dear pile 1.  There’s this journal prompt(?) I’ve encountered before about listing down all the characteristics you want in your ideal partner, then sitting down and reflecting if your ideal would wish to have a partner like you. It’s such a humbling yet eye-opening journal prompt TBH. Don’t expect the best if you won’t show up as the best version of yourself. Like… if you want the best, you have to be the best version of yourself as well.

What you also need to let go of Pile 1 is your hyper-self-awareness. Granted that it’s great knowing what your strengths and weaknesses are but there is such a thing as too much. I heard, “A healthy balance is key” in your case. Sorry for the call out Pile 1 but from the second card as well, your perfectionistic tendencies are slowly making themselves known. You might have these “all-or-nothing” tendencies, like a “black-or-white” mindset sometimes. It seems you have high standards for others and yourself, so you tend to intellectualize your feelings instead of feeling them. Again, apologies for the call-out Pile 1.

The last card feels like a desperation for external validation. Like, you feel you always need someone to impress or win over to feel like you’re good enough. There’s this unworthiness wound that needs to be addressed. Also, chronic people-pleasing tendencies to the point of immediate self-sacrificial tendencies. Pile 1, you need to learn to let go of this unhealthy thirst for external validation. Because the moment you lose your “audience”, you feel lost and listless. You need to remember that you are worthy of love, happiness, and success in life because you exist.

Pile 2:

Pile 2: 2 of Cups, Tower, 10 of Swords, Strength

I’m saying sorry in advance Pile 2 but the first thing I heard was, “You need to learn to be happy alone.” Pile 2 either is the type that can’t stand being single or is a hopeless romantic that has more fictional crushes than actual human relationships. (Apologies to all the romance genre bookworms all over the world). This pile falls under those two categories~

So for the serial daters, it seems that you need to take a bit of a break/pause and assess what do you want in a partner, your non-negotiables and negotiables. You are asked to don’t say to every person that asks you out. Also heard that, don’t date just because you’re bored, lonely, or have a lot of time to spare. Basically, you are called to only get into a relationship for the right reasons.

Now for the hopeless romantic who prefers fictional men to real men, I understand that you might have heard stories or had experiences that made you always choose the bear every single time. Those horror stories are an unfortunate reality for people into men. But I can’t, in my good conscience as having nephews, say that all men are despicable human beings. Granted, not all men but still they’re men. So… what I’m saying here is, that your fictional boyfriends would want you to actually experience happiness through real human interactions too. So yup, keep your guard up to those who wear their red flags with pride, but do try to give a chance to good men out there.

What you also need to let go of Pile 2 is your destructive coping mechanisms whenever you feel triggered by your traumas. Yes, I’m sorry to have it break it to you. You kinda felt this would eventually be mentioned, right? You are aware of your own destructive tendencies when triggered. You are aware that you unintentionally hurt your loved ones whenever they trigger you. And you also know you want to stop hurting people in the process. If therapy is expensive, try searching for somatic exercises and eft tapping. You don’t always have to swallow a pill to get better at managing your anger issues and self-sabotaging tendencies. You just have to give yourself a safe space to be able to honor and validate your feelings/pain/trauma. Treat yourself as gentle and compassionate as possible, like you would a child who’s just learning how to walk and talk.

Lastly, you are called to let go of your arrogance. I’m really sorry for the call-out Pile 2 but the cards have spoken. It’s great to know within yourself that you can walk your talk but you might have the tendency to bulldoze anyone that crosses your path. This might even cause an issue with authority figures. There’s a fine line between arrogance and confidence that you need to learn to master. It’ll help with the harmonious dynamics between you and your coworkers.

Pile 3:

Pile 3: 10 of Wands, 6 of Coins, Queen of Coins, Wheel of Fortune

Pile 3 feels like my burnt-out workaholic pile from the get-go. Being burdened by too much on your plate. Pile 3 might actually tend to take on other people’s problems. I understand you want to help out but you need to understand that you have limits too. You are asked to let go of the burdens that aren’t actually yours to begin with. You’re also asked to reprioritize your needs and responsibilities first before even considering helping someone else with their problems. I kept hearing, “You can’t pour out of an empty cup.”

Why does it feel like Pile 3 is my overly giving and generous pile? Sweetheart, please… I get how you want to help others out and give whenever you can. Just don’t forget to keep some for yourself, okay? I’m not asking you to stop being generous. I’m asking you to discern who genuinely needs your generosity and who is abusing your kind and loving heart. Unfortunately, not everyone deserves you and your generous heart.

Pile 3, your pile really has me crying and whimpering, “Please stop letting people walk all over you.” No wonder y’all are burnt out, you are the most loving, generous, and nurturing souls in the world to the point of being easy prey for abusive, manipulative narcissists. I’m begging you Pile 3, discernment and boundaries. You’re so nurturing and caring to the point of ignoring someone’s red flags. So… you have to actually learn how to have healthy boundaries and practice discernment. Don’t entertain the idea/potential of a person and see them for who they really are.

The last card feels like you need to let go of being too much of a “going with the flow” to the point of not taking charge of your own life, Pile 3. I understand you’re adaptable and know how to roll with the punches, but it also feels like a drifter with no roots. Always letting yourself be carried wherever the wind blows, can be interpreted as letting people dictate how you should live your life. It seems that pile 3 tends to take a passive approach to living your life. I understand that people who are of authority claim they want what’s best for you, but that’s what’s best based on THEIR values and preferences, not YOURS. So… please Pile 3, take the time to figure out what do you actually want to do with your life, in your own way. You are not just someone’s child, not just someone’s sibling/parent, not just someone’s friend/classmate/coworker. You are your own person, with a heart that feels and a mind that can think for themselves.

Pile 4:

Pile 4: 2 of Coins, 6 of Swords, Knight of Swords, Chariot

The first card of Pile 4 feels like you need to let go of only prioritizing your needs while disregarding your desires. It’s great to know how to be practical and resourceful, but you tend to only focus on nurturing the physical and basic needs, you tend to forget your emotional needs too. You tend to forget that you can let yourself enjoy your life while you work hard to provide for yourself and your family. I’m hearing, “self-care” is something you need to prioritize. Don’t just say, “Oh, I can just enjoy the fruits of my labor later” then realize your knees can’t even be stable enough to carry your body to your bathroom. The last I heard from the first card was “Go on a vacation and treat yourself while your body is still able to live and move with ease.”

The next thing you need to let go of is your cut-off game, specifically your tendency to ghost people. It seems that Pile 4 is quite quick to cut people out of your lives without notice. It seems that pile 4 also tends to cut someone out of their life on impulse. Like, no explanation, no notice, no last goodbye. This is giving “ghosting” vibes. It’s like, the person you cut off didn’t even do anything wrong, yet pile 4 while just going ghost without a valid reason. Like, pile 4 may go ghost whenever someone is getting a bit too close to your heart and you tend to run before they even get a chance to offer any friendship/commitment. Pile 4, are you a commitment phobe?

Pile 4, what you need to let go of is your impatience. Not just towards others, but also towards yourself. The littlest inconveniences make you lose your cool quicker than a mic drop. Not everyone is capable of keeping up with your demands and requests, not even you. So please, learn to be more understanding and patient with yourself and other people. I understand that you want to just go-go-go, but you need to know that you shouldn’t bulldoze your way through life. Learn to pace yourself by taking the time to smell the roses. There’s nothing wrong about going after what you want to get done, but you just need to remember that you don’t always do everything perfectly in the first try. You too make mistakes. You too need time to learn from your mistakes and become a better version of yourself. So please, show yourself and others the same compassion and patience you wished someone would give you.

Finally, the last thing pile 4 needs to let go of is “being controlling”. I’m really sorry for this call-out Pile 4 but you must have heard this from someone else before. Just because you know what’s best and know how to do it best, it doesn’t mean you should always take the reins and just control everything and everyone to bend into your will. Your way isn’t the only way to do things. You might be surprised that there are other ways to go about a task with minimal damage and effort. So please, let go of the concept that you have to always take charge and always be the leader.

Thank you for trying out my PAC reading. Feel free to give me a feedback on how your pile resonates with you.