#doctor who tickle fic

[cantwritethetword]

Donna, Human, Yes

Fic Descript: During an argument, Donna discovers that the doctor has a rather human weakness. When he insists he's not ticklish, she has to prove him wrong.

~A/N  - I RETURN FROM THE DEADDDDDDDDDD

Yes writers blocked kicked my ASS last year (aside from squealing santa, i feel like i did ok with that one hehe) but I'm back with this lil fic.

I watched the Doctor Who specials FINALLY and I cried so many times omfg it was so good to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate back together again being lil chaotic besties through all of time and space, so of course I had to write something for it !!!!

And you are bearing witness to the magic of my adhd meds in action !!! I've been so productive in the last hour it's great !!! (EDIT: didn't write this in an hour, just to be clear. took me a little while but ADHD MEDS WORKED FOR BOTH TIMES YAY)

Just something cute and fluffy af ^^ love you all <3

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @carrie-tate

Masterpost Link 

The bond between Donna and The Doctor was certainly one for the ages.

Human words couldn't do justice to the type of bond they had, at least that's what The Doctor claimed in his newer, more openly emotional regeneration. Their love was too strong for just the term of friendship, too close for anything romantically implied, too adoring to be siblings. Even the term soulmates had a particularly selective connotation to it that left a bad taste in The Doctor's mouth.

Nevertheless, it was clear they could hardly live without the other. There was enough love between them to power galaxies, and knowing their history neither would be surprised if it had.

And it was this closeness, this fierce tenderness, that led to discussions such as this. Displays of deep affection half-heartedly disguised behind harsh tones and disgruntled gestures.

"You may be a high and mighty Time Lord, but you're still an idiot." Donna huffed, as the TARDIS finally settled after takeoff.

The Doctor scoffed. "I'll try not to take that to heart, and I thought that escape went quite well!"

"YOU THOUGHT-" Donna stopped herself, breathing deeply to try and contain her shit that was threatening to lose itself. "The only reason we even STARTED to escape was because I PUSHED YOU TO THE EXIT!"

"Well yeahhhh..." The Doctor rolled his head, letting his eyes drift away from his companion's. "But-."

"But NOTHING." Donna interjected. "It's the same thing every time! You start running your mouth and saving the day, and that's wonderful, but you don't know when to stop!"

"Donna I-"

"Let me finish." She snapped, raising a pointed finger towards him and stepping closer.

The Doctor held his hands up in front of him with a gentle nod of the head.

"You drag yourself through hell, running and ranting and... and sonic-ing!"

A small snicker escaped The Doctor, but he straightened his face almost instantly after when her angry look didn't waver.

"You can't control yourself!"

He didn't dare argue.

"I always have to pull. your. arse. out.!" She accentuated each of the last words with a corresponding poke to The Doctor's torso.

And while she expected the pokes to help get her point across, she definitely was not expecting the almost childish giggle that spilled out of his mouth. Or the awkward jerk his body made to cover the ribs she had prodded.

But Donna wasn't stupid. She didn't waste any time in a state of surprise, no she jumped straight to (correct) conclusions.

"Oh no way." She grinned, creeping closer to the now incredibly flustered Time Lord.

"Now Donna," The Doctor began, his mouth twitching upwards in a nervous smile of self-betrayal. "You don't know what this is."

Donna gave a singular breathy chuckle. "Nice try sunshine, but you're not yapping your way out of this one."

"There are countless reasons why... why I would... flinch away from you like that!" He continued rambling.

"I know ticklish when I see it sweetheart." She smiled sweetly, though there was nothing sweet about the predatory glint in her eyes.

"What?!" The Doctor tensed, almost frozen in place at the mention of the word. Though quickly forced himself back into talking his way out of the situation in a faux-calm tone. "Uh, Doctor, Time Lord, no."

She smirked, stepping closer to him.

"Donna," she paused, reveling in just how much she was getting to him. "Human," she paused again, less than a few feet away from him. "Yes."

And then she lunged.

Her hands met his sides and The Doctor curled inwards, his arms tangling themselves in a fruitless effort to push her away.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sounds of Donna's fingertips clawing against the fabric of The Doctor's shirt, before he finally cracked.

Bubbly giggles spluttered out of The Doctor's chest as he folded forwards, allowing Donna to slip behind him and trap him in a bear hug. His knees slowly buckled, and (with no chance at keeping someone his height upright by herself), Donna followed his squirming body to the floor.

"Dohohohonnahaha!" He squeaked between bouts of helpless laughter, but her name was barely comprehensible amongst the childish noises she tickled out of him. "Ihihihi-!... wahahai-!... stahahaha-!..."

She chuckled, rolling her eyes as her hands climbed up into his armpits. "What was that?"

He couldn't reply with anything other than a squeal, writhing for a few seconds before his body finally submitted to the playful torture. He tried to splutter a few words out, but nothing could make its way through the torrent of giggles currently occupying his voice box. THe man had gone practically limp, aside from his hands which were still seized up like a tyrannosaurus rex.

"I never thought I'd see the day..." Donna shook her head in amusement as she skittered her fingernails around his collarbones. "That anyone would render you speechless."

"DOHOHOHON-! WAHAHAI-! IHIHIHI-!"

She laughed again. "Keep trying space man."

"IHIHIHI-! CAHAHAHA-!" He chortled, his hands suddenly free enough to slap themselves to his cheeks to cover his embarrassment.

"Whaaaat~?" She teased, rapidly poking him in one side while squeezing the other.

"IT TIHIHICKLES!" He somehow blurted out, before breaking into cackles as Donna transitioned to dual-hand squeezing. "DONNA PLEHEHEASE!"

It was Donna's turn to cackle, though hers was much shorter and much more controlled of course. "It tickles, does it? I had no idea."

Aside from the odd jolt when Donna hit a particularly sensitive spot, The Doctor had gone practically limp. All that laughter had fully sapped his energy, and he was leaning his back against Donna's chest to keep himself upright.

Taking her chance, Donna once again decided to change her position to further destroy the man. Sliding back from under him (taking care he wouldn't fall back and whack his head on the TARDIS floor - she wasn't that cruel), Donna pulled his arms from covering his face and stretched them above his head.

In his state of ticklish delirium, The Doctor didn't quite notice what was happening. Assuming she had finally taken pity on him, he focused on catching his breath with a stupid grin still stuck to his face.

That was until the moment her shins pinned his arms to the floor.

He locked eyes with her, now fully aware of just how screwed he was. With Donna kneeling above him, she had full access to the armpits she had assaulted with ticklish claws just moments ago.

"Nononono Donna you can't!" He begged, legs kicking wildly with every word. "You'll kill me!"

She shrugged, "You'll regenerate." before putting her typing skills to good use and pitter-pattering her fingertips against his underarms.

The Doctor clamped his mouth closed, thrashing his head to one side with his eyes screwed shut in a soon-to-be vain attempt to not react to the unbearable sensations radiating through his body. But even a mighty Time Lord could only hold out for so long.

After less than ten seconds (which The Doctor would later argue was a rather impressive length of time), he crumbled. The childish, high-pitched giggles returned and he was once again a mess beneath Donna's touch.

"Oh!" Donna gasped, slowing her fingers in response to the Doctor's slightly wheezy breathing. "And if you do regenerate, I'll be the first person ever to tickle two Time Lords!"

Aside from the occasional titter, The Doctor could finally gain control over himself again. He gulped mouthfuls of air as Donna climbed off his arms, and slowly sat up next to her.

"Not-" He panted, still more than a little out of breath.

Donna chuckled. "Take your time."

"Not tw-" His huffing interrupted again. "Not two."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"Even if I-... regenerate... I'm still the same... singular Time Lord." He corrected. "You've only tickled the one, and to be honest it happened a lot back on Gallifrey so you're not particularly sp-"

She barked a singular laugh, cutting him off. "God, you really don't know when to shut up."

His confusion turned to giggly panic when Donna pushed him back to the floor again and sat on top of his hips. "Nononono Donna not agAIN-!"

[carrie-tate]

Being a Time Lord and not needing sleep has its perks...

For example, the ability to not let your favorite companion in adventures sleep an extra half hour

[tenth-and-ninth-doctor-era]

Repairs and Giggles

just a self-indulgent tickle fic lol. Kind of short.

The Doctor's hands were a bit busy with the inners of the TARDIS, some wire seemed to have exploded since the Doctor's hands were covered in inky blue substance. He grimaced looking at them and wiped one hand on the floor. Gross, Donna thought. He turned over to his companion.

"Donna, grab me my sonic screwdriver, will ya? Left breast pocket." He said, referring to the sonic in the coat he was wearing.

"Ew..." She muttered, looking at the Doctor's fingers and the dark blue substance covering them. She reached around his waist to grab the sonic. Once she found it she pulled back and brushed past his armpit. The Doctor suddenly flinched and let out a rather embarrassing squeak. He quickly cleared his throat, covering the noise.

"Ehr-ahem, got it?" He asked while wiping the rest of the substance off his hands on the floor, hoping Donna would just brush it off.

"Oh no way." She grinned, creeping closer to the Time Lord. Seeing the mischief in her eyes he tried to move away.

"No, don't Donna! I mean it, don't you dare!" He said in a warning voice, as she got closer and closer.

She began to poke his side, "ohhhh, is someone ticklish? Does the doctor happen to be ticklish?" She joked playfully, enjoying teasing him as he tried to move around her fingers. He let out a giggle and let go of the wires he was currently holding.

"Alright, fine. Yes, I'm ticklish, but don't you dare tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold!" He chuckled out.

"Oh, my lips are sealed." Donna replied before going in and tickling the living daylight out of the Time Lord.

"NOOOO! Donna, st-ha-haa-ha! Stop!" He managed to get out while breaking into uncontrollable laughter. Donna grinned, not stopping. She began to tease him.

"D'awww, poor darling. Does it tickle?"

"Yeees! It tickles, now stop! St- ha-haa-ho no, Donna stahahhaahop it." He pleaded, trying to catch his breath to speak.

“Aww, look at how ticklish this tummy is! Gitsy gitsy goo!” She said in a sing-song voice, slowing down, but starting to tickle his stomach. He let out a massive cackle.

"STOOOOPPP IT!" He managed to get out. His whole body was twitching, trying to escape his friend's skilled fingers, but to no avail. He fell to the floor and rolled.

After a while of Donna's merciless tickles, the both of them laid on the floor, panting. The Doctor was on his back with his arms spread out, while Donna was on her side, watching the Time Lord's chest.

"That was... Awful... And terrible..." The Doctor began, still panting. "Don't... You EVER... Do that... Again..." He managed to get out between gasps of air.

"But you were laughing your arse off, you liked it." She grinned while leaning on her elbows, a massive smile on her face.

"It's embarrassing." He admitted, closing his eyes and calming down. Still breathing heavily, he continued. "And tickling is the lowest form of comedy... Still fun, but- *gasp* -embarrassing nonetheless... "

Donna snorted. "As if I don't know enough embarrassing stuff about you now!"

The Doctor opened his eyes and turned over to her, grinning. "You can't go around telling people I'm ticklish, though. You know how that would affect my reputation."

"So, your big scary timelord reputation is just as easily broken by someone poking you in the gut?" Donna joked with a grin.

The Doctor sighed. "I feel like you're deliberately embarrassing me sometimes..."

[goth1clee]

Jack harkness x male reader

Y/n works at Torchwood and has for over 6 months now. You are pretty shy but a brilliant worker, of whom Jack admired (but unknown to you). He wants to get to know you better, but he needs to find a way to break down your hard shell. However it doesn’t take him long to find out how.

Tw: tickles, slight mention of Jack staring at your 🍑 (I mean, it’s not inaccurate)

It was quiet in h.q.. Everyone had gone home, but you were in no rush. It was just you and Jack; he was somewhere else within the building, but it was probably for the best. It was hard to look him in the eye; to have a conversation with him, let alone to be stuck alone with him. He filled your stomach with butterflies. His smile made you feel as if you were going to melt. Even the thought of Captain Jack Harkness caused your cheeks (and ears) to go bright red. As you saw your flushed expression in the reflection of the blank computer screen, you snapped back to reality. You turned the computer back on and continued to work on the current status report you had been asked to write up. It wasn’t due until a much later date, but working was the only thing that kept you from returning to your apartment alone; it was depressing but true.

If only it was not just empty home you were returning to, but a special someone. As your mind started to drift once more, a familiar voice cut off your train of thought.

“Hey y/n it’s getting really late. You still working?”

Jack sauntered down the staircase, trying to get you to reply. You turned to face him, but struggled to keep eye contact for more than about ten seconds.

“O-oh I didn’t really notice Jack” you cursed internally at your own stutter, praying Jack wouldn’t notice; he did. Especially when you tried to play it off, however failing and knocking over the pencil pot scattering pencils everywhere. You looked apologetically towards Jack and began to pick them up off the floor. As you kneeled down to clean up the mess, Jack cast his eyes down and stared lustfully down at your behind.

“I can’t figure you out y/n, honestly.” Jack spoke in a soft, caring tone down to where you were crawling; a tone that caused your heart to jump. It never occurred to you that Jack may actually like you back, in any way although he did.

“Your so confident and experienced when it comes to work, pretty much fearless, but you get so nervous having a conversation. Your ears go red”

You stared at your shoes, unable to reply. He edged closer to your desk and hovered above you.

“Oh so you noticed that.” you mumbled sheepishly.

“Aww don’t worry, I think it’s quite cute~” he smirked as he spoke, noticing your glowing cheeks as you smiled and rose from the ground to sit back on the desk chair.

“Hey, you can tell me if there’s anything going on you know. I don’t bite. Most of the time anyway.”

You thought for a moment of what to say, wondering whether you should confess everything right there, or to just lie.

“Don’t worry Jack, nothings up, just want to finish my report is all”

Jack sighed, seeing clearly through the disguise. He could hear how you were short of breath from only a few words.

“No offence y/n but that’s such bullshit. That doesn’t need to be done till….ages. So just tell me,” he pulled a chair up and sat right beside you, trying to meet your gaze, “ is there anything you wanna tell me?”

“N-no I’m fine, honestly. Just a bit of a work-a-holic” you faked a reassuring smile, but it didn’t work.

Jack surveyed you for just a few seconds, then paced around the area, wondering how he would get you to talk. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“You know, y/n, I’ve never heard you laugh. Properly, y’know like fully losing it laughing.”

You looked up, confused at Jack’s choice of question.

“What? Don’t be daft, I laugh all the time Jack.”You tried to change the subject so that Jack wouldn’t see your blushing face, but he continued.

“Name a time then. Enlighten me.”

You thought for a moment; it was true, you didn’t really laugh all that much, especially when Jack was there. “Owen makes me laugh….sometimes.”

“Oh please,” Jack begun, “face it y/n. You are uptight.” He made a smug face, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I do Jack, your just not very funny.” You said this, trying to seem confident, to mask how you really felt. “Plus, my laugh is so ridiculous, it’s not human,” you tried to sound convincing, “I sound like a donkey being tortured.” You faked a laugh, hoping Jack would drop the conversation.

“Well, I do know lots on torturing people,” Jack spoke sinisterly, all the while sliding closer to your seat, “and I am also, very funny, I think you’ll find”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. You felt as if your heart was in your throat. Rising abruptly from your seat, you looked in the taller man’s direction. “Just gonna get a drink.”

You walked, almost trotting, over to the sink, mug in hand, head facing down to the ground. Jack followed, but not to your knowledge.

As you placed your cup down firmly on the table and fetched a tea bag from the tin, you felt a pair of arms squeeze at your ribs. You yelped and fell back into the counter, trying not to laugh. As you shifted your eyes to look in front of where you were standing, Jack strode over, blocking any chance of exiting the situation.

“Y/n, never known you for the sensitive type. Thought you meant business,”he teased, poking your tummy playfully.

“Juhust startled me is all,” you replied swiftly, but Jack cornered you.

“Oh no, we’re not done pretty boy, I gotta hear more.”

You blinked. Was this really happening? Was Jack gonna actually do this? It was both exciting and gut wrenchingly scary. Hell, you’ve faced aliens, weevils, it you were more scared of Jack Harkness’ wiggling fingers.

You made a run for it, however the captain gave chase, teasing you as you ran up the stairs to his office.

“Running isn’t gonna do anything y/n, I’m gonna get you eventually, and when I do I’ll tickle you to pieces!”

He wondered why you were running straight into his office. He could corner you much more easily there. The it dawned on him. His smile broadened at the thought.

As you ran into his office, giggling, already feeling his hands on your sides, he slammed the door and scooped your body into his arms as though you were weightless.

“Jack…” you tried to stop him but you were to busy trying to stop yourself from chuckling.

“Oh my god this is so sweet. The stoic y/n reduced to this. I haven’t even touched you yet” Jack smiled at this side of you. Your smile, the way your cheeks became dimples. It was refreshing. He couldn’t describe it, but it was as if you cast a spell on him.

“I know..” you managed to find your words, “I can f-feel it anyway.”

The way your words became lost in your own giggles made Jack feel as if he himself was going to melt. This was very new to him, but he adored it. He buried his face into your stomach, moving his chin into the fold of your hips. You let out a cackle in response, clutching onto Jack’s coat. He stood up and moved his hands up and down your sides, laughing along with you; he loved seeing you happy.

He stopped for a few seconds to admire your figure, your jaw, just everything. He enjoyed what he saw, unbeknownst to you.

“I knew you had a soft side,” he sounded triumphant, “just had to find the right way of coaxing it out of you.”

He set you down on his desk and continued “torturing you” by digging his hands into your armpits, then slowly moving down to your hips, making you shriek louder.

“Ooo I think I found your tickle spot~” Jack smirked as he drilled his fingers into your neck and hips.”

“JAHACK PLEASE, IT-“

“What,” Jack interrupted, “does it..tickle?”

“STOP FUHUCKING SAYING IHIT” his reading made it harder for you to fight back it’s not as if you minded.

“Ok ok I’ll stop now.” Jack lifted his torso off of you so that he could help you regain your balance.

“Honestly, I feel like you needed that.” Jack begun, “I just want to know why you so shy.”

You stared once again at the dashing young captain, struggling to get the words off your tongue.

“D’you have a crush on me or something?” Jack laughed, hiding the slight desperation in his voice.

“Um yeah kinda.” As soon as those words left your mouth you tensed up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach.

“Seriously?” Jack sounded gladly surprised “never thought I was your type.”

He stood opposite you and held your head in between his index and his thumb. His skin felt smooth against your chin. He moved his face closer to yours, locking his lips with yours. It felt glorious; beautifully passionate. His tongue intertwined with yours as he moved his hand through the locks of your hair.

As you both moved away from each other, Jack smiled.

“Your ears have gone red.”

You became slightly embarrassed, and tried to look down, but Jack stopped you.

“Don’t worry. It’s adorable. And I wanna see more of that smile around the workplace. Is that a deal.”

You blushed’ “ If I do, will you go out on a date with me?” You shocked yourself with your own words.

Jack mockingly gasped and squeezed your ribs playfully, “Y/n! Being so forward? Call an ambulance, there’s something wrong.”

You giggled at his joke, trying to escape his grasp.

“Well, you best get home now, need some sleep, especially after our little workout” he winked.

“Yeah, I guess.” You sighed; the colour drained from your cheeks.

“Hey hey,” Jack said sympathetically, “ why the long face giggles? D’you wanna stay tonight?”

“Really?” You were pleased by his offer.

“Yeah of course, someone’s gotta keep you company-and come to think of it, sane.”

You looked at Jack; this was real, he honestly loves you back. It felt like a fever dream.

“Oh and by the way,” Jack’s words in-zoned you out,” your new nickname is ‘giggles’ cause I said so. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?” You joked.

“Who needs professional when you can be fun”

(My ears went red writing this lol)

[highvern]

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: mature, romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: Drug use (weed), alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm, mentions of pregnancy

Length: ~27k

Note: this is a rewrite of this fic i posted for christmas last year. switched some things, updated my writing style and added some scenes. thank u @haologram for suffering through beta reading this. dedicated to my dearest @miniseokminnies

Summary: Wooyoung broke up with you months ago. In his own shame and embarrassment, he's never told his family. Now they're expecting you for Christmas, just like they have for the past 8 years. So he does the only thing he can think of: beg you to pretend you're still dating.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

June

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“...and forth so much but—What?” 

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door. You don’t care. You’re already outside and turning the block, completely unaware that several whip around to look at the man left at the table.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening. The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday, paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year, so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite,” she laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that. He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there,” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got your number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed. Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with your response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm. 

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!” 

“Hi,” you deadpan. “What do you want, Wooyoung?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but you’re right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” you drawl.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from your end along with a few curse words sounding far away before you continue. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now,” you insist.

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

He can hear your eye roll. “Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your bullshit anymore.”

“I can tell them you’re busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No.” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down your face, fingers massaging your temples the same way you always did when his shenanigans stirred up trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

He can’t believe you answered his call, let alone agreed to this stupid plan. But he completely can because now matter what happens, you’re a better person than he’ll ever deserve. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so—”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.” Wooyoung bites his tongue to stop the habitual I love you from slipping in.

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for you to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early 

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great. ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between you. Eight years of dating but now you’re a stranger, the last text messages arranging for Lisa to pick up a box of your stuff from his apartment. 

Six months and he didn’t know if you kept your hair the same way or what new book you were obsessing over in the sparse free time from the hospital; if your neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one. 

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door.  He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit. Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since you would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS? 

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket 

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees you’re flying out of New York, not Boston. Why aren’t you flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and you wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless there was a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. You live here, in New York. You’d been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long? Where were you working? What neighborhood did you live in? Why didn’t he know you moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

Wooyoung: since when?

He doesn’t expect a response right away. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. You’re a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when he met you at some dive bar and realized you shared a behavioral psych class. You always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day. Wooyoung would probably get an answer in the next few days but he needs to know right now.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well, fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew you moved back to the city.

Double fuck.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her. 

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face. “This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them until he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family across the country?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, Hongjoong eyes you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…” 

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake? 

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked.

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child,” he tsks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chest piece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper,” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient. 

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season. 

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you split a cab?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford downtown. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You were never one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. Back in April, when you and Wooyoung visited for her birthday Bibi decided to skip asking when you two would tie the knot and go straight to procreation. 

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

The line for security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place. “Congrats, man.”

Wooyoung gives a tight smile. “Thanks.”

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

The flight attendant keeps her best customer service voice but something dies behind her eyes. “Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, you know Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teacher's salary. In the end, a few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

 “No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you,” you say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does, in fact, exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several. The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar. 

“Cranberry margarita.” You slide over your credit card. “And start a tab, please.”  

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart; the second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic but there is no way this is happening. The world isn’t that cruel.

Even if he deserves it.

You stand twenty feet away in the usual flight attire, every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw you. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of your nose. The silver carry-on you bought in the airport during the last visit to his family at your side. And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting your lips when you catch him staring.

Better he sees you for the first time since the break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, you can kill him multiple times over with looks alone, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if you hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

You actively avoid looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for the flight. But you keep focus on your phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is Lisa. If he wakes up to the tiny blonde in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three; flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as you strut down the hall without a glance back. 

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when he shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t find you amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle. 

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes. 

Two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan. You can’t lie to her. It’s one thing for Wooyoung to play this entire charade in her face and you to go along. It’s another to ask you to look her in the eye and pretend you hadn’t spent the last six months pretending her son didn’t exist.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” the man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you.”

Wooyoung stares blankly, glazed eyes bugging out his skull like he can’t believe the irony either. If habit and history were to repeat itself, he carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left. 

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words. It might as well be ancient hieroglyphics.

“Y/N,” he tries again. In your periphery, Wooyoung folds over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you. 

“What?” you snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patients brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core. 

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land. The seatbelt sign chimes off and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it. 

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear. Once Wooyoung is out of earshot, you apologize, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while after he offers to trade seats. You refuse. If you sat next to Wooyoung they’d need more than a few people to pull your hands from his neck.

The stranger, Jay, laughs. “That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.” 

Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder. “Excuse me.”

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you. 

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” You stare straight ahead. His hand brushes yours by accident and you make more space between you so it doesn’t happen again.

“How’s work?” Wooyoung asks.

“Fine.”

“Okay, look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least pretend to act like we like each other?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you are for this charade.

“Fine,” you sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the bus to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work. A small blessing to avoid running into Wooyoung so soon after the break up.

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up. 

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” she cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Waving at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can circle back to the passenger door.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah. Good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate. 

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach at the moment. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. If you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened, then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” she gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you catch some sleep in the backseat during the long drive. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing your stomach. You shrug his hand off your thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of your sweater

His mom opens the driver's door, inviting in the chilly air from outside. “Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.”

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were both students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snow globe. 

Another yawn before braving the outside, Wooyoung spots you in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

He wants to pull you into his arms and kiss you back to sleep. Follow the slope of your nose and bow of your lips with his fingertips until you swat him away and hide in the warmth of his neck. Six months ago he could have. Now, he has to brave the cold himself.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, shouldering her away from the trunk as she insists on helping carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and your carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” You call across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as you struggle with the luggage.

“I can see that,” his dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house.

His dad lifts your larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while you balance your tote bag and his carryon. Wooyoung manages to snag the canvas bag off your elbow as he walks past. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight, the faint glow of Christmas lights illuminating the climb to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly. 

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time he shared the quilt covered bed. How the last trip here had been the last night you slept in his arms; the last time he laid you bare beneath him, giggled against your lips as you both tried and failed to stay silent; the last time he fell asleep tangled in you, with the blue velvet box he brought everywhere hidden in his suitcase only feet away, ready to ask you at the drop of a hat. 

Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it first happened. 

The same blue velvet box with the same ring sits in his suitcase but he can’t think about it because if he does he’ll beg you to come back to him. You lay curled under the quilt like before except this time Wooyoung can’t glue himself to your back and trace shapes on your stomach for you to guess. He can’t kiss you good night and tell you he loves you even though he still does; he probably always will. He can’t do it. 

Because you deserve better. 

A better life, a better man. One who doesn’t rope you into this level of insanity instead of asking for a second chance and explaining why he ruined the best thing in his life. 

But Wooyoung is a coward. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” he offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in your own suitcase, you scoff at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

A tiny speck of hope you might want to share the bed for other reasons melts into nothing. Of course, you wouldn’t want him anywhere near you. The moment in the car when he was feigning slip just to feel the gentle scratch of your nails through his hair meant nothing. “She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s going to happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” You grab your toiletry bag and shuffle to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva,” Wooyoung whines. But his rebuttal bounces off the piece of wood locking him alone in his room.

When you return from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. You leave first thing in the morning the day after Christmas and after he gets back to the city he can tell his family the truth. Or an altered version of events where Wooyoung hasn’t lied to all of them.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity. 

This was his idea. He can do this. He can pretend everything is fine. He can share a bed with you and be totally normal; unlike every other time you fell asleep in his bed since the beginning of your now finished relationship.

He finds you balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space open for him to sink into. His chest squeezes but he stays silent as the minutes tick by. He knows you’re awake. Your leg twitches and brushes back against his before you jerk away like his skin burns. 

Wooyoung wants to roll over and trace the dip between your shoulders like he used to when neither of you could fall asleep. It’d work in no time, he knows it. But he settles for counting backwards until his thoughts drift off.

You fall asleep somewhere around the second time he reaches the forties. When Wooyoung reaches zero again, he starts over. 

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone. 

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?” 

You tilt your mug towards her. “This is fine.”

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment those four years you attended medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to your fingers brushing his hair like always, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of your short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as your heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, you’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all those months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as you sit at the counter, cradling a steaming mug. If Wooyoung had to bet, it probably contained more sugar and milk than coffee.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to you nonetheless, resting his cheek on your shoulder, feeling you startle at the contact. Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in your sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget you're lying to everyone in the gentle passes of your cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

His mom works to heat the pan on the stove. “Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.”

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” you mumble for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning at the hands of nosey grandmothers.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met you, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available, and Oh she also wants to be a teacher! Isn’t that cute? But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of you and him at the park, cheeks smashed together, announcing he was not so casually dating you, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met you at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend. 

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung survived it, their older brother survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling. It was good for him.

The second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of your overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste of dating again. 

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother,” his mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” you snap, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud. You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on one as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message. “Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jungs you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could reverse the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs. 

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothing's come up yet.” 

“That sucks,” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the  It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable. 

A light tap at the door startles you from the nosedive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood. 

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed and lean against it. “I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

 “Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” you whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind. “You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Oh?” 

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess—”

Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all. Wooyoung won’t look at you, not that you can look at him either. 

Kids.

Just another thing on the long list of wants you wouldn’t be getting. For so long, children were this amorphous thing you wanted some day. That was until Wooyoung came along and slowly changed those vague thoughts into real hopes. They had been discussed to death over and over. Wooyoung wanted as many as possible before he started teaching, then eagerly explained that two kids were more than enough after his first day of school.

All those nights snuggled in bed talking about baby names, Wooyoung offering to stay at home if you wanted.

“I’ve always wanted to be a trophy husband,” he told you. He smothered his face in your neck, sealing the offer with a gentle kiss. “Could be a trophy dad too.”

“You’d give up teaching to raise my baby?” you asked.

“I’d give up everything if that's what you wanted.”

He would have.

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. He should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were hypothetical, no matter how often you two discussed them; but marriage was almost reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, finally you and him.

Wooyoung tries not to think about Bibi’s comments but the mug of tea sits steaming on the table and the images are just there. You pregnant; a nursery decorated in greens like the one you told him about; celebrating Christmas in the city, the snow covering everything and requiring the little tyke to be wrapped up until they resembled an overstuffed dumpling.

His mind wanders as the board crowds with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quad, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her. 

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with you before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an A and every other letter I need for ACQUAINT on a triple word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom one hundred and seven points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with you in victory; cheeks squished together, matching bright tipsy grins. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

You don’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of your chair while you settle into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of your head, relaxing firm pressure of your body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

In the cool toned light of dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that separate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet sound fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your underwear.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong – so so so wrong – to fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your needs. But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” you groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress. “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow. Three more days and you can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist.

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon. In the meantime, you turn on the coffee pot and wait as the kitchen fills with the comforting smell. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family. 

Wonderful.

“Morning, sweetie.” Bibi bursts into the kitchen, a whirlwind of activity even at the early hour. 

“Coffee?”

“That stuff's no good for you,” she chides, taking a spot at the dining table with her own cup. “Our appointments are in thirty minutes, better go get ready before the boys use all the hot water.”

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom. Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows you pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard that whimper, felt your legs squeeze together the way you always did when you needed his help. Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch you to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of this charade he needed less complications, not more. Sex felt like it would make things very, very complicated.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of you in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down your nose from on top of his lap. And his personal favorite, on your knees, eyes watering as your swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of your throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung closes his eyes as the evidence swirls the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

Out of the steam, he returns to his room, ready to throw on a pair of sweats and spend the day sleeping to avoid his feelings.  Too busy thinking about you, Wooyoung isn’t paying attention when he opens the door and runs straight into you.

Also half naked.

“Oof!” 

Wooyoung grunts with the impact from the floor. Arms caging your head, you stare up at him like you can’t believe he’s there. Bare chest on bare chest. His towel unties, leaving his right leg naked against yours, hips cradled against your own.

This is not happening.

“What the hell?”

“Why are you naked?” he stutters.

Very naked, and pressed against him intimately. The heat of your core is more than enticing. Even though he washed all the desire from this morning away, his body betrays him from years of habit. Maybe touching you wasn’t such a bad idea. What could it hurt?

“I thought I’d flash you,” you spit, eyes rolling. “I was changing.”

You’re still beneath him, squirming. Right against his dick. A pang of want rushes through him like a thousand volts, his nerves turning into individual live wires everywhere your skin meets his. The cold sneaking through the windows is all more evident by your pinched nipples pressing into his chest.

“I didn’t know you were in here,” he explains. Still, he doesn’t move. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“Cleary.”

You must realize he’s hard because you stop moving, staring wide eyed as his entire body lays heavy against yours. He should have let you talk him into whatever you wanted earlier, consequences be damned. Your gaze lingers on his mouth. He doesn’t want to make assumptions but your head tilts, breath fanning his chin. His own stutters, eyes flitting between your mouth and your eyes as he leans closer and—

“YN? Are you ready?” Mia calls from the door. “We don’t want to be late!”

“Just a minute!” you respond. “Get off.” 

Wooyoung scrambles to his feet, towel back around his waist to hide what little of his dignity is left. Which is, somehow, far less than when he entered the shower minutes ago.

He tries not to look but you're standing there, breasts on display, and Wooyoung is only a man who was in love with you for years and still very much is no matter what lies he tells himself.

“Turn around, this isn’t a peep show.”

He does, but an argument fizzles at the tip of his tongue. He’s seen you naked enough to draw you from memory; the mole on your shoulder, the scar on your hip from when you learned to ride a bike and fell into a ditch, the knobs of your spine. Wooyoung knows all of them like the back of his hand. A couple months ago you would have goaded him into looking as much as he wanted, teased him and in the process riled yourself up until looking turned to touching.

You clearly don’t want that as you race to throw on whatever clothes are nearby and rush out the room.

Stupid.

He can’t believe he nearly kissed you. He actually can but what he can’t believe is you seemed to want it just as bad as he did. But it wouldn’t make anything better. This wasn’t a movie where he could kiss you and all the problems plaguing your relationship would disappear. You’d still hate him and he’d still be hopelessly in love with you.

After dressing and basking in humiliation, Wooyoung descends to the living room where his dad and brothers watch a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time? 

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

The nail salon buzzes with conversation. The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights, reminding you of the hospital. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you. 

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

Wooyoung’s stunt this morning was perfect cannon fodder for your idle mind. It didn’t mean anything; biological reactions to seeing someone and feeling someone who knew your body intimately for years. Seeking closure in the most primitive way after months without any sort of gratification. It meant nothing.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her. 

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast. 

“Yeah?” 

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day,” you laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…” That we aren’t together, you finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho…”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things only for it to be all for naught. 

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year, toothy smiles wide as they wave at him.

“I think being scared means you care. You can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom,” you whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch. 

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest. 

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teetering with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain, pull him upstairs to tangle your limbs between his and find sleep together. But you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the contents on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner. The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own – alone – before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed your shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly propositioned him in his childhood bed. And again on the floor.

Three more days, you think.

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of you curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles your face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world keeps you occupied. 

Wooyoung aches to scoop you against his chest and litter kisses all over your face, fingers ironing out the wrinkles creasing your forehead. To smile at your whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. This morning was a mistake. Even thinking about you the way he has is a mistake.

Even if it kills him not to touch you like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject you to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling you into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding your shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

You respond with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over your head to hide away.

“C’mon, it's almost time for dinner.” 

“Youngie, it’s cold,” you protest as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from your iron grip. “I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, you blink against the overhead light. “I’m up!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

You mutter empty threats the entire way to the kitchen, so close your cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits. 

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. You demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year Wooyoung brought you home; Mia claiming victory in your absence the year after. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright.” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery. But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches you attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. They're half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What you don't know is that those are your gumdrops and his are stashed under the table.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting, loose interpretations of houses.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” you ask. The horrendous green and red abomination resembles nothing Wooyoung has ever seen before.

“See, you get it!” 

Shaking your head, you point at the monstrosity sitting in front of you. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps… if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes. A chorus of groans around the table answer. 

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s Willy Wonka.

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his. “Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard. Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year. Doesn’t even pretend Wooyoung has a shot.

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match. Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition dating back to his earliest memories.

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please,” his dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is your leaving through the same door he is, and that a menacing sprig of green leaves sit just above in wait.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” you grunt.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own. 

If you were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop you into his arms and make an entire production of giving you a short peck on the cheek – his parents were watching after all – while you laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into your eyes, barely missing the nod as you leave a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the passing contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize you’ve walked away until you’re turning a corner and are out of sight. 

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel like nothing happened.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! you think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

One stupid, G-rated kiss and you act like a bumbling teenager. Wooyoung’s morning wood was pressed against you twelve hours ago and you can’t handle a peck. 

What was wrong with you? 

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest. All those tightly stashed feelings you swore would never have a home in your heart settling back in like they never left. Honestly, they hadn’t. Six months was nothing compared to eight years together.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last-minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. He didn’t give any answers to the questions you were dying to ask. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable. And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more. 

Toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter. He stayed quiet after the mistletoe. Not that you had much to say yourself.

When you return to his tiny room, it’s notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets alone. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed. 

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss? Or was it this morning? But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

Christmas Eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night's sleep on the freezing, unforgiving floor can dull his excitement. He woke early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space while you slept soundly.

Part of the reason he slept on the floor is the knowledge that if he woke up with you pressed against him again, he’d agree to whatever you wanted from him. He was too selfish to say no a second time.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So, with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize. You’d basically avoided him after the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite to do so. Technically, you kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth. Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed about it.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky. His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving. 

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently, now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him.  “Alright,” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He pleads you for help, but you can only offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in. 

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market on the way home. The house is peaceful as everyone works in quiet content.

Until Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. Kyungmin was a sweet kid; he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager. It’d be weird if he didn’t have one. But to hear he’s been out right rude, and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. 

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep. 

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins. It's been months since you let loose, too tired from the hospital. But in the quiet cold, the fuzziness bubbling in your veins is exactly what you need.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college,” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

He takes another hit, coughing twice before answering slowly. “No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing,” you chuckle.

Wooyoung spent all his high school years and college breaks as Bibi’s helper; coincidentally meeting some long friend’s granddaughter each time. It all stopped when you came around. 

Kyungmin goes to light the bowl again and you snatch it from his hands, some big sister instinct taking over. He lets you and flops back into the snow covered roof. “They just stare at me. It’s creepy.” 

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all. He staunchly ignores your raised brow.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school,” he admits. “And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool,” you nod. “So you like her?”

Kyungmin flounders for a second, caught red handed. “I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

If your eyes rolled any harder, they’d pop out of your skull and launch off the roof. “Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league,” he sighs.

He sounds a lot like Wooyoung. Back when you first started dating and he learned you were applying for med school, there was an air of unworthiness that rolled off him. Wooyoung never explicitly told you he felt that way about himself but he didn’t need to. 

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit. You let him this time.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungho calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders. “Yeah, but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect,” he responds, folding in half to climb out the window.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof. 

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what, hair a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him.  You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it. 

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

Wooyoung’s breath caresses the shell of your ear before he speaks. “What are you guys doing out here?”

You resist the urge to shiver for an entirely new reason.“Bibi.”

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky. 

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while. 

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. One of your fingers slips around his, hooking them together briefly. Wooyoung doesn’t squeeze back but he doesn’t move away either.

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look you in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted you on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was your own family; how he wanted to cry when your fingers circled his own. 

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between your spread legs. 

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are. 

He doesn’t think twice about dropping a kiss against your knee until you stiffen. Idiot. Every time he swore he was going to be better, his body acted on autopilot. Falling into old habits and thoughts like they were second nature.

Resting his cheek against your thigh, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch you anymore. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, he’s too weak to stop himself. 

Considering the way you keep staring at him every time you think he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think you would want him to stop either. 

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind you up the stairs. You both get ready in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for you to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds you in a nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night,” you explain.

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.” 

“Just take the bed.”

“No,” you protest.

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out your scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes, you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now, shut up.”

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep on the floor if you continue to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, you were a menace. You’d cave eventually when your hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to you. His entire left side burns in your heat, acutely aware of every shift of weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from the kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, when he jacked off to old memories and then ending up tangled with you half naked on the same floor he now laid, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

It’s freezing. That’s the excuse he tells himself as to why you snuggle closer, leg splayed across his hip and face buried in his neck. It’s reflex, is what he tells himself when he presses his lips to your hairline and you grab a fistful of his shirt.

He doesn’t have an explanation when you slide over him, taking a seat in his lap. He doesn’t need an explanation either once you kiss him, closed mouth and gentle. Wooyoung quietly accepts every touch you bestow. Hands strictly at his sides, he refuses to initiate anything more. It’s all up to you. He wants to give you whatever you want without even considering himself.

His brain floods with a fuzzy feeling as your fingers itch up his chest. Under his shirt, you sluggishly trace the lines of his stomach. There is only one way this ends because he cannot let you touch him any more or he’ll ruin everything. 

“Wooyoung?” you ask, nose to nose when he pulls your hands out of his clothing and holds them between your bodies.

Twisting until you lay side by side, Wooyoung lets himself be a little more selfish as he gently sucks your bottom lip between his own. He finds the strength to pull away when you deepen it. He won’t be selfish. 

You both fall asleep with tangled limbs, Wooyoung’s nose buried in your hair and your lips against his neck.

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. You hear the first crash slice through the door, an ice bath to your system.

You’re still curled tightly against Wooyoung’s chest. 

On the floor.

“Get up,” Wooyoung shakes you, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

You groan in the morning light, burrowing back down into the still warm pillow.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall, much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!” 

You tackle him into the mattress, forehead to chin and an elbow in his stomach. Attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi stands in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” his grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Your position against his body, legs bent awkwardly, covers lopsided, only last as long as Bibi is there to witness. You stumble over the memories that remind you too much of the time she waltzed in two Christmases ago, you and Wooyoung scrambling to hide exactly what was happening beneath the sheets.

Now, the only thing you’re rushing to make it look like that was exactly what you were doing. The smallest trickle of relief slips in at the fact he brushed you off last night. The consequences of trying to hook up with your pretend boyfriend are clearer in the harsh daylight. 

You rise and stalk to the bathroom without looking back, a handful of clothes in tow to avoid the same debacle as yesterday.

You feel a little pathetic settling for meaningless touches. All you want is to pretend a little harder, let your mind believe Wooyoung still loves you, still wants you. Not just to avoid awkwardness with his family but because he knew he made a mistake and just needed the courage to admit it. 

That wasn’t going to happen. He was content with his choices, so you have to be too. 

Wooyoung is already downstairs when you descend the stairs. There's a mug waiting for you on the coffee table, perfectly sweet and milky. It doesn’t mean anything.

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store. 

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia. 

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them,” she whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right. 

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly. 

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the horrors of Midtown in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you,” she says, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well. 

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“No, I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Removing the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears staining your cheeks with gentle swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself. Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by. 

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make you so upset but his mom keeps squeezing your shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in your direction. The new necklace circling your neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask. 

Maybe it had nothing to do with the necklace. Maybe it’s because you’re finally free of this entire ordeal tomorrow and never have to see him again.

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines you into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off you in waves. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before taking your MCAT or opening exam results. When the screen fades to black, you bolt up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following, Wooyoung finds you perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between your collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his head all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, you hand him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked you to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been. To secretly say goodbye to his family and the relationship you had with each of them after already working through it on your own. He should have known you bottled it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” you ask, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” you bite, glazed eyes blazing as you rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” your voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. “What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of the mess, you fall back onto the bed. “It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. 

“I was planning to propose.” He can see your head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he has to look you in the eyes and admit he’s a coward, so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

It’s painful to swallow the knot of embarrassment in his throat but you deserve the truth. He owes you a lot more but all he can do is give you an explanation for why he blew up both your lives. “I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything,” he admits. The crushing weight resting on his shoulders lightens a little at the confession. It feels good. So he keeps talking. “I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that,” you objects, cupping his face and forcing him to look at you; at the tears he’s responsible for. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back,” you say quickly. “Why do you think you get to make decisions about my life like you know better than I do?”

Panic sets in. “Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed about something but you never wanted to talk about it so I didn’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

An awkward silence unfurls, so thick he could choke on it.

“I still have it by the way,” he finally says.

Surprise flashes across your face as you stare at him. “Have what?”

“The ring.”

You blink through fresh tears and something in him breaks. Cracks into a thousand pieces he’s forced to hold together because this is all his fault. “Why?”

“I think…” Wooyoung sniffs back his own cries. “I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” You fume, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped. 

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down. 

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years. 

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you. 

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you. As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new. 

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center. 

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place? 

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them. Maybe it’s for some other secret he’s convinced himself to hide from you because he isn’t good enough; because he doesn’t trust you enough.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin. It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the gentle slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind across a lake. Wooyoung marvels and shakes above you, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks before kissing them away with a hitch in his breath. But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear.

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think you wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot you two were barely more than strangers after months of silence, how every part of him still fit together so perfectly with you. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without you. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text you something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having you next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

His mom turns off the radio. “When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs. “I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake. Sometimes two people don’t fit together and it isn’t because you don’t love them.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint her eventually.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

Throwing the car in park she levels him with a look so stern he feels like he’s a kid getting scolded again. “You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.” Another comparison where he doesn’t measure up no matter how you look at it.

“Yeah, well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that,” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. Each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic,” Yeosang says.

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung responds. There’s no bite in it. He doesn’t disagree, he’s told himself the same thing over and over again.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?” 

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot,” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking. “So what do I do?”

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of your full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B. Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

Lisa doesn’t even let him speak. “Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different? Could he promise he’d never let whatever tiny trickle of self doubt plague his brain wouldn’t flare up again? No. He can’t.

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

The line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with your best friend. The vinyl tabletop shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration. 

“She’s working at New York-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

Yeosang chews his next bite thoughtfully, like he isn’t sure he wants to share the information a second time. Wooyoung almost believes he hallucinated his friend speaking at all until Yeosang repeats himself.

“Y/N works at New York-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.” 

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him. He wants to kick his ass.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake San off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward. 

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight-year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friends don’t trust him not to hurt you anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t…”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

“And we’ll help,” San adds.

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before anyone can force him. But for now, he focuses on getting you to listen to his apology.

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” you call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes. 

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor. You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came. 

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes. – W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed. 

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach and jittering nerves. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend. Unless you shrunk, or grew two feet, or suddenly had a beard.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s nearly memorized. The Times mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg twitches aggressively beneath the table. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that you aren’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside. 

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the last tiny drop of hope. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine he watches as the clock hits nine. 

You aren’t coming.

You don’t want him back.

And he has to accept that it’s his fault.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been you and him, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked while trapezing through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Your hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring your face as it fogs in the cool air. But you’re here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi,” he says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

You nod. “I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. You’re here. You’re here and you’re looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry,” he warbles.

“I know.”

But you can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed you and how breaking up with you was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that you’re in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing you’ve ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells you how he truly feels, you’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic. 

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, staring at the icy sidewalk covered in slush. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” you pause, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

You smile shyly. “Really?”  

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, you nod at him. “That’s a start.” 

And the space between them grows a little warmer. Gives him the confidence he needs.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of you. You never made him feel less than. The only person who thought he wasn’t good enough was himself and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt. 

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from your face. Beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Your voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug you into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get out. 

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” you yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders. 

“I missed you,” you whisper into his lips.

“I love you,” Wooyoung responds, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees, children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the dead grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where you and Wooyoung both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither of you like to talk about. Wooyoung woke you with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find. No different than all the other mornings spent together since January.

You tried to take things slow, ease back into the comfort of the relationship. But it’s Wooyoung. There’s no half measures, only the full rush of feelings that never went away. A few awkward weeks of dancing around one another, unsure how to fit back in when there’s so much history, but the dam broke the first night Wooyoung stayed at your apartment and woke you up with bagels and coffee in bed.

He stayed over almost every night since.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures his face from view as your head rests in his lap. Wooyoung’s been fidgety all morning. You chalk it up to the first nice day following a freezing, rainy winter. Too much energy and finally a suitable outlet that isn’t people watching from your living room window.

You look up at him, his face visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding your smile. He’s already looking at you.

Plucking the book from your grasp, he carefully marks the page before setting it down on the blanket. Wooyoung folds in half to silence your protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming as you give in all too easily. 

“I was reading that,” you mumble into his bottom lip. You tug his shirt, kiss him a little firmer before he leans back.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, you press another peck to his mouth before answering, “Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Your smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights. 

Fiance.

His fiancee…

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers you up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it, me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech but you hardly notice, shaking so hard yourself. He drops it a third time when you tackle him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from your lips and into the field where they lay. 

“Yes!” you squeal into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all your friends, he holds your hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks you home, to the apartment that’s become his second home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses your knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Each time you chest squeezes like its the first. Once inside the doorway, Wooyoung crowds you against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on your ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of the sundress off your shoulder so his tongue can etch your collarbone from dip of your throat where the locket he gave you for your first Christmas together rests to under your ear. 

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” he asks, nipping against the sensitive skin until you sigh, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between your parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr. Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Woo.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at your reaction, rocking again just to hear you moan his name once more. 

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” you huff, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of your cunt through your panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites against the strained muscle raising from the side of your neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

You do feel it. Shifting in the tiny space he’s allotted, you feel him hot and hard against your stomach. You’re caught between wanting to savor every moment and ripping both your clothes off. 

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify your question with an answer other than tugging you towards the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

You don’t make it that far. Between pulling at his clothes and tripping over your own, the hall floor becomes the alternative; Wooyoung’s lap your new perch. His teeth close around your nipple, timid until he’s not.

He keeps you like that for a while. Squirming in his lap until you're not naked enough with your dress pooled around your waist and bunched up your thighs. You whine and he switches to your neglected breast, tongue flitting teasingly. 

“Wooyoung,” you keen. 

The bastard laughs but makes no move to give you more. You’re at his mercy. The way he touches you makes you blush, still new and exciting after years but he treats you like the most interesting thing in the world; remembers even the most insignificant details that have you sweating.

You try to pull him off your chest but he ignores the desperate pleas; eager licks so good your hips kick against his crotch for some kind of relief. Fingers pinch at the abandoned one, keeping your back bent in a painful arc.

He bites a little too hard, shoves a hand between your legs and touches with raw force. You can’t think about anything. Hopped up on champagne and engagement bliss, your body rolls hot and wet against his fingers until you come with wrecked sounds.

Sagging against him, Wooyoung slows, lets you take a few weak breaths while he noses against your collarbone. He kisses the hollow of your throat, a simple brush of his lips that lingers deep in your veins.

“I think that might be a new record,” he quips. The fingers buried beneath your underwear pop into his mouth before he reaches back down with softer strokes, teasing all those worn nerves back to attention. You don’t care about anything other than the way he touches with brutal reverence. Worshiping your body the way that sets your soul on fire.

His body gives under gentle caresses, fingers cataloguing everything in meticulous detail. His hair, his neck, shoulders. The plains of his chest. How his stomach dips beneath your nails. You rub his cock through his pants before impatience takes over and you both work to shove them down his thighs.

You rock down, pulling at those short hairs at the nape of his neck with just enough sting. Wooyoung loses himself in the feeling, mouthing your name across your sternum. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whatever response rests on your lips dies as he rolls you next to him on the floor. You leg over his hip, his cock between your walls with little resistance. The kind of intimacy that makes you bubble out your own skin.

The floor isn’t good for sex. Your hips ache. Sweaty limbs stick. Your fiancé has you bent like origami to fuck as far as his dick can reach. His eyes are locked on the way you fit together, but you want them on you. “Baby, l-look at me.”

He does; hooded eyes hazy. Something simmers hot in his gaze, something you can’t name but know well because you feel it. Wooyoung doesn’t look anywhere else but your face as he rolls again and again and again.

“Feels so good,” you pant.

Wooyoung hoists your leg up higher, pushing until your back flattens to the floor and he’s crowded over. You want him to fuck you hard, nasty. Something in between those romance movie references and the way he makes you feel like the only person in the world; perfectly made to take him. 

He groans from the new angle. “I love you.”

The hand shoved between your legs is ripped away. The hand with the ring. The one Wooyoung kept by his side at all hours like an idiot. But you don’t care. Not as he pulls your fingers to he faces and kisses it like a promise, cups his hand around your own one his cheek. You shake. Thrash beneath as stars explode and everything melts into absolute nothing.

Wooyoung manages a few more thrusts before he loses it, pace uneven from champagne and giddy pleasure. The messy of his cum spills with each jilted thrust, trickling where your ass meets the floor. 

Shuddering, Wooyoung collapses. “Jesus Christ.”

You grunt something like ‘I know,’ eyes wet, body vibrating with leftover dopamine. You’ve never had married sex, and any form of nuptials remains far off in the horizon for the time being. But tonight, he’s as good as the real thing. Maybe even better.

“I think I passed out for a second,” you whisper airily. 

“Just some proactive marital bliss.”

He lays on the floor next to you, shoulder to shoulder, hands wound gently together. The pressure of his lips rains over your fingers. Again, and again like he still can’t believe this is real.  You can’t remember ever being this happy.

Hooking a leg over his hip, you cuddle down into his chest. “Bibi is gonna see that ring next weekend and start asking for grandkids.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Myungho called me this morning.”

“Wait, really?”

“Surprised?”

“No,” you laugh. “Mia called me last week.”

Wooyoung presses his nose into your cheek with a whine.  “How come you got to know before me?”

You're both still half clothed. Your dress ruined, his pants the same. Like the so many times you’ve had together where nothing can get in the way of the deep seeded need for one another. Almost poetic. 

You kiss his cheek teasingly. “Because you can’t keep a secret to save your life, Mr. Jung.”

A displeased huff is all the warning you get before he’s back on top of you, fingers bent into your waist, your neck. All the worst tickle spots that have you screaming for mercy.

“You were surprised today, weren’t you?” He pulls you tighter, levels your gaze and whispers like it’s the best secret he’s ever been a part of. “Mrs. Jung?”

“Not one bit.”

[a-killer-obsession]

Hey you know im gonna need AFAB she/her reader with a respectful number 9 with some accidental P and desperate T >:3c and if you can work in some F and W elements too well that would be an added bonus

That's a extra large number 9 McHorny Meal with a boytoy, please enjoy your meal!

Touch of Pollen, Touch of Pearl

Prompt: Sex Pollen + Thighjob + First Time + Body Worship

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, shark anatomy (claspers aka two dicks), masturbation, this came out a little omegaversy lmao, biting, size difference, this is basically a monsterfucker fic, oral (recieving), fingering, forced orgasms, pervert fish?, p n v sex, creampie, cumshot, aftercare, friends to lovers

WC: 7.6k dear god

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

You were a little anxious to say the least, pacing the lawn deck of the Sunny nervously as you waited for the scouting party to return. You'd only been on the crew a few months, but you cared about them greatly, and though the island was uninhabited you still held concerns. As the new botanist for the Straw Hats, born and raised in the New World, you knew how deceptively dangerous even just the plant life on these sorts of islands could be, and you cursed yourself for not insisting you joined the scouting party when you didn't draw a coloured straw to be chosen. Grass was flattened and getting damaged in the straight path you walked back and forth, other members idly sitting around on the lawn or stairs but nonchalantly keeping an eye out as well.

Usopp stood on the stern castle deck near the entrance to the aquarium, a telescope in hand that quickly shifted as he caught movement at the treeline. “They're coming back!” He announced, mouth turning downwards to a pout, “I think something is wrong, Robin's fleur is carrying Boss Jinbei”

You rushed up the stairs and grabbed the telescope to look, pointing it to where he'd been looking. Sure enough Nami and Robin were running towards the ship, Robin's arm's crossed and pink petals swirling in the air as giant hands appeared and disappeared in turns, carefully passing along Jinbei between them to move alongside them. He looked unconscious but you couldn't see any blood from this distance, so it was impossible to tell what was wrong. You could see Robin through the telescope as she spotted you, concern on her face as her mouth began to move. You almost yelped as the voice appeared right beside you, her pretty mouth tickling your shoulder where it had appeared as she spoke.

“[Y/n]! Can you hear me? Nod if you can,” the mouth said in Robin's sweet voice, a little panicked sounding which filled you with worry given her usually calm demeanour during times of crisis. You nodded in her direction, still too small to see her properly without the telescope but you assumed she had an eye somewhere you couldn't see. “Good, listen to me carefully. The three of us got hit with some sort of pollen spores, but it only seemed to affect Boss Jinbei. I'm worried about contamination so tell the others to put Boss Jinbei's mattress in the aquarium, then keep everyone clear of us, I mean it. Even Chopper, we don't know yet how this will affect the others if we still have pollen on us”

You gave a stern nod and turned to the others, who were slowly gathering behind you. “Franky, grab the Boss's mattress and take it to the aquarium then come back here. Nobody approach them when they arrive, I have a theory but right now it's not safe, we don't know how contagious they are”

“But I have to treat Boss!” Chopper cried.

“I know Chopper, but we can't have our brilliant doctor getting sick, Jinbei wouldn't want that,” you told him, making Chopper do his blushy little wiggle dance, “they said they all got hit by pollen so they could still all be covered in it, we need to keep our head about us”

“Okay…” Chopper said sadly, kicking at nothing. Franky returned from moving the mattress and joined the others as they gathered in front of the door to the boy's cabin, leaving plenty of space for the scouting party to ascend the gangplank and head to the aquarium. A giant hand appeared on the deck in a flurry of pink petals as they got close, receiving Jinbei from the previous hand and taking him to the aquarium as a trail of smaller hands received him and passed him through the door and out of sight.

“Robin-cwan! Nami-swan!” Sanji cooed as he ran towards the two women ascending the gangplank with open arms. You caught him by his collar, momentarily choking him as you yanked him backwards, throwing him at Zoro who rolled his eyes and hooked his arms under the cook's armpits to trap him.

“Sanji are you stupid?” You chided, “I told you we have to stay clear!”

“Sorry, my darling! I was caught in a spell of love!” Sanji replied, immediately starting to fight Zoro and setting off a fistfight that quickly ended for both of them with a hard knock to their heads from your closed fists, leaving them to sit on the grass and rub their scalps. Robin was saying something to Nami as they came on deck, and Nami quickly disappeared up the stairs and through the aquarium door.

“Robin! What happened!?” Chopper cried, rearing to go to her.

“It was some sort of mushroom,” she panted heavily from the run and straining use of her devil fruit, who knew how long they'd been running. “Nami stepped on it and it let some sort of cloud of spores out, and then Boss Jinbei started getting sweaty and feverish and collapsed”

“Did you see the mushroom?” You asked, a theory in mind but you needed to check your books and confirm the plant first.

“I did, and I'm guessing you have the same theory as I do about its effectiveness,” she suggested.

“Aye,” You replied confidently. “Sanji, Chopper, go to the kitchen once Robin and I are behind closed doors, use the pulley to communicate with Nami. I don't know the exact nature of what he's being affected by right now, but there are many plants and fungi on the Grandline that only affect males, so I believe us women are safe, as well as Brook I believe, since he doesn't have the capacity to be affected by drugs. Brook, go take Nami's place so she can shower, tell her to rinse her clothes and make sure she scrubs her hair well, Robin and I will go to the library to confirm the mushroom”

“What about the rest of us?” Luffy asked, pinky up his nose casually. You were glad to have such a laid back captain who had no problem giving up power at a time like this.

“The rest of you stay in the boy's cabin till someone comes to get you,” you ordered, already starting to leave, Brook long since run off to relieve Nami. “You have to all stay here till there's no chance of contamination. It shouldn't take long, just until Nami and Robin are clean, but under no circumstances is anyone other than myself, Robin, Nami or Brook, permitted to enter the aquarium. Even if Jinbei is cleaned we won't know if what he has is contagious to the rest of the men on board anyway”

“Right!” Usopp declared, hands on hips, pretending that he wasn't terrified and unbelievably relieved that he could just go hide in his bed.

You hurried off to join Robin, the two of you rushing up the stairs, the sound of footsteps and little hooves a safe distance behind you as Sanji and Chopper headed to the galley. You rushed to your shelf and pulled out a few books while Robin described the mushroom in great detail. Small, fat head, vibrant purple, blue spots, bulbous, she described it as being the relative shape and size of a dog's penis, which seemed oddly specific but you didn't question it. Robin searched through one book while you searched another, until she, with her undeniably impressive research skills, found a diagram of the mushroom she'd seen and slid the book across the table for you to decipher the technical jargon that she only particularly understood, being that this wasn't her field of knowledge.

“This isn't good,” you bit you lip as you recognized the page and remembered what you knew of it, “he's been hit by a powerful aphrodisiac, and just as we thought it only affects the males of species that procreate through sexual reproduction”

“It probably bolsters species numbers so it has more corpses to feed off,” Robin said nonchalantly. You shuddered at the incredibly morbid observation but she was probably right. “How will it affect Boss Jinbei?”

“His body is telling him right now that he needs to breed,” you sighed, scanning the page and reading the lists of side effects and potential treatments. “He's essentially going into the mammal equivalent of a rut. It says here the effects can last up to four days until-” you re-read the passage over and over hoping you were reading it wrong but disparingly it remained the same.

“Until what?” Robin asked with great concern as she noted your hesitation.

“Until his body gives out from the strain and he dies,” you replied, voice shakey. Robin was cold and silent as she processed the statement, logical mind in overdrive as she looked for a solution, separating herself from her feelings to keep her wits about her as she often did in situations like this. “What happens when animals are exposed?” She finally asked. “If it wants them to reproduce, surely it doesn't just kill them?”

“It says they mate several times and the effects wear off, if they don't find a mate the mortality time frame is two to seven days depending on the size of the animal,” you reported, slumping into a chair in defeat, already mourning the loss of the helmsman you'd come to really care for. Really, really cared for. Now that you were losing him, your heart was going into overdrive and you regretted never telling him how you really felt. Would he even be coherent enough to understand if you told him now?

“So he just needs to mate then,” Robin said matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal, shaking you from your self-immolating spiral. You brows shot up in surprise, like she wasn't suggesting the fishman just needed to get laid to save his life. “Do you want to do it or shall I? Nami is only interested in women, I don't believe she'll be of help here.”

“Robin!” You exclaimed, vibrant blush spreading on your cheeks as you considered what it might be like to lay with Jinbei. So strong… so… big… it wasn't like it was the first time you'd thought about it either. Robin quirked a brow, she could practically see the cogs turning in your head.

“You like him, don't you?” She smiled knowingly. You gave a frustrated huff and crossed your arms but didn't correct her, making her giggle. “I'll leave him in your care then. I should go shower, but I'll update Chopper on the situation afterwards and say what he says”

“Robinnnn, I can't-” you complained, “I mean… he's not in his right mind, what if he hates me after?”

“I can assure you that Boss Jinbei will probably be the one apologising profusely afterwards,” she smiled, “he'll probably blame himself and claim he took advantage of you. It'll be fine, [y/n], I think he'll be thankful you did it instead of letting him suffer and die. It's not the worst thing to happen, he is quite fond of you after all”

“He is?” You blushed, picking at your cuticles under the table.

“He told me himself he thinks you're quite beautiful,” she assured you, no hint of untruthfulness or malice in her voice. “I should warn you though, I've discussed fishman anatomy with him in great detail for my research and you may find he is quite unlike any human you've been with”

“Ah, yes.. because I have definitely slept with other humans,” you mumbled sarcastically. Robin took a seat next to you and rubbed your hand reassuringly.

“[Y/n] my dear, are you a virgin?” She asked softly, no hint of mockery in her voice, only quiet concern.

“... yes,” you replied in a small voice. She made a little sigh and rubbed the back of your hand with her other, your palm sandwiched between her soft warm ones.

“Are you sure you want to do this then?” She asked, “I don't want you to be uncomfortable. It's a lot to ask of someone even if they had experience”

“It's okay, I think, if it's him,” you replied with a heavy blush, “it's not that I never wanted to, I just never had the opportunity, given my… coloured… history. I've done… some things… just never the whole way. What do you mean thought by ‘he's unlike a human’?”

“Ah,” Robin smiled softly at you, “you see, Boss Jinbei is a whale shark fishman. His genitals are quite like that of a whale shark.”

“Meaning?” You pressed.

“Meaning, he has claspers instead of a penis,” she explained. You cocked a brow, not missing the plural.

“Claspers, multiple?” You asked.

“Yes, two of them,” she answered causally with that usual sweet smile of hers like she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. You must have been cherry red at this point, your face hot with flush. “There is also something else,” she continued, and you wondered how she could possibly have anything more shocking to say than dropping than Jinbei has two dicks. “You are aware of how some mammals lock together during mating, yes?” You nodded anxiously, already seeing where this was going, “Claspers have a similar process, so you may find a little discomfort as he finishes”

“Oh, okay,” you blinked, trying to recall every moment in your life that led to this bizarre scenario. That's what you get for staying on the Grandline you guessed. “What do I… um… what do I do? I mean how do I… how do I please him?”

“Just follow his lead,” Robin assured you, “I'm sure despite the pollen he will be a gentleman. Boss Jinbei has a strong will, a little horniness isn't going to be enough to make him hurt you”

“Okay,” you replied anxiously.

“I'll keep the other's from the aquarium, make sure you shut the pulley hatch though, or the sound will travel,” she winked as she stood, bringing on a whole new round of fluster. “If you change your mind just tell me, I won't judge you if you don't feel comfortable with the situation, I'll take care of him if you find yourself unable to”

“Thank you Robin,” you sighed as you stood, following her out the door. You made your way down the stairs as she headed the other way to head to the bathroom, and you took a deep breath before entering the aquarium. Jinbei was laying on the mattress in the middle of the floor, pushed up against the bar seating that surrounded the mizzenmast running through the center of the room. His kimono was open to the waist, his red sun tattoo on full display, smooth skin dripping with sweat as his chest heaved with heavy breaths. He was unconscious still, Brook carefully dabbing at his forehead with a cold damp cloth.

“Ah! [Y/n]-san! Do you have news?” Brook asked hurriedly, resting the cloth over Jinbei's forehead as he turned his attention to you. You sat on one of the bench seats that lined the half moon room, blue aquarium lights colouring the room in soft lighting that would be romantic under other circumstances.

“We know the mushroom that he was affected by, and we were correct in thinking it only affects males,” you looked at Brook, “sorry, males within their fertile age range.” Brook nodded for you to continue, not taking offense to your attempt at not immasculating him, he understood what you meant. “I can help him, he'll be okay, but I'll need some privacy for the rest of the day and evening. The treatment is quite delicate, I don't think he'd like others seeing him in that position”

“It sounds like you're going to torture him,” Brook half laughed, and you struggled to force a smile for him to keep it lighthearted. In reality, Jinbei's current position, laid out and panting, half clothed and covered in sweat, was having an effect of its own on you, and you felt a little ashamed that you were beginning to look forward to the… treatment… despite the fact that Jinbei was clearly suffering right now. “Shall I leave then?” Brook asked, standing and reminding you how incredibly tall he was.

“Yes, thank you Brook, I can look after him from here,” you hummed, “please ask Sanji to send our dinner up in the pulley as well as plenty of water. I'll also need some clean towels, and probably some more cloths with a bucket of water to wet them”

“Aye aye, [y/n]-san!” Brook gave a mock salute, “please take care of Boss-san!”

“He's gonna be okay, Brook,” you smiled, running a thumb over the back of the skeleton's cold boney hand. You weren't sure if he could feel it but you hoped the motion was comforting anyway. You could tell that Brook was concerned, he was doing his best to come off as nonchalant but you knew he cared a great deal about Jinbei, and could hear the underlying concern in his voice. He gave your hand a squeeze, letting you know he understood the gesture and appreciated it, before leaving to pass on your message and gather things for you.

You pulled your knees up to your chin as you watched over Jinbei. From what the book explained, right now he was going through a process that would usually take several days, his body being pumped full of hormones that would put him into a frenzy when he eventually woke up. For now he would likely be asleep a little longer, so you had a little time to prepare. First you took the towels and bucket of water that were sent up the pulley, setting them aside on a bench with the bucket on the floor. You set the large jug of water Sanji sent up on the bar counter along with the two glasses, and set beside them the lovingly made snacks that were sent up with them. You took the opportunity to eat and drink a little while you could, then, satisfied there was nothing more to be done, you locked the aquarium door, shut the pulley hatch, and removed most of your clothes. They were going to come off anyway, you may as well make it less awkward for Jinbei by doing some of the work now, leaving yourself in only your loose comfortable shirt and panties. You curled up on the mattress beside him, Jinbei making little groans as you pressed against his side. His usually cool skin was almost blistering to the touch, yet it erupted in goosebumps wherever you made contact. You hoped your physical presence could offer him some comfort during his fever dreams, at the very least he would know he wasn't alone when he woke up.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The mattress shifting underneath you woke you from your unintentional nap, heavy breathing and groans next to you indicating that Jinbei was awake. You realised his kimono was draped over you like a blanket, still warm from being against his feverish skin, but notably that meant he was likely naked. You turned your body to face him, his bare back to you, hand at his front moving frantically, you didn't need two guesses to know why. You could hear his teeth occasionally click together like he was biting air as he made frustrated growls and fisted himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin as you reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, his smooth skin coated in sweat.

“[Y/n]!” He exclaimed, curling in on himself to hide his shame, “please excuse me! I didn't mean to- I mean I had to- ah, I'm usually more controlled than this!”

“It's okay Boss, you're not in your right mind,” you cooed, rubbing his back soothingly, “you've been dosed with an aphrodisiac, how much do you remember?”

“Ah, we were scouting and then,” his brows furrowed as he tried to fight the horny haze in his brain to concentrate, “Nami stood on something, and there was some sort of cloud, and I felt warm and dizzy. I don't remember anything after that. Ah, are the other's okay?”

“She stood on a mushroom,” you explained, “Robin and Nami are okay, as is everyone else. The mushroom only affects breeding age males, the others are all being kept clear of this room. Right now, you're experiencing the mammal equivalent of a rut. Do you understand?”

“Ah, that does explain my… condition,” he hummed, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Jinbei was strong and brave, even against emperors he showed no fear, but when it came to matters of sexual needs, his confidence was practically stripped from him. He was raised in a generation that instilled a great amount of taboo about all things of a sexual nature, he knew it was just a natural process many experienced and the foundation of how most species continued, but he couldn't bring himself to work past the feeling of shame that sat deep within him for having such desires.

“I know this is… awkward… but you have to let it run its course,” you said softly, “you have to give in, or it'll wear you down till your body gives out. That's why I'm here. I imagine you are… unable to find satisfaction on your own right now, because of the pollen”

“You would be correct,” Jinbei cleared his throat awkwardly, “but I can not ask you to do that. I will die with my honour intact instead, I will not force myself on you because of this”

“Jinbei…” he shivered a little at your use of his name, you only ever called him Boss as many of the crew did, and his name sounded like honey dripping from your tongue. “You won't be forcing me to do anything, I'm offering. I… like you…” your voice cracked a little as you forced out the confession, no time like the present you guessed, especially if this was your only chance to say it. “Robin has offered as well, if you would prefer her…”

“No!” He spooked you a little with the speed he turned over, taking your wrist firmly but not painfully in his large smooth hand, “I, I want you. I woke up thinking about you. Even before I realised you were here, I could smell you, that delicious sweet scent you have,” your breath hitched as he pressed his nose against the crook of your neck, forcing your head to move and unintentionally baring it for him. He took a deep inhale, making a small groan as he caught your scent. “You've always smelt so good to me, and you're so beautiful. So sweet and strong and kind, I care a great deal about you. Which is why I can't take what you're offering, my pearl”

“I can't let you die,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his as he retracted his face from your shoulder. You shuffled forward so your bodies were pressed together, feeling the long hard forms of his two cocks against your abdomen. It made you ache with need, unconsciously pressing harder against him. “I want you, Boss,” you whispered, “and I want you to be okay. So use me, use my body to fight the pollen, so you can live. You care about me, don't you? Don't hurt me by letting yourself die because of a stupid outdated concept like honour. It's not honourable to let yourself die needlessly, let me help you”

Jinbei made a little whimper as your words soaked in, letting you guide his hand to rest against your ass. You reached down between your bodies, taking his claspers in your small, shaky hand and doing what you could to hold them together, unable to wrap your hand around them properly. He was big, proportional to his large body, each one being about the length and width of your arm from fingertip to elbow, thicker even perhaps, smooth and tapered at the end, witg none of the prominent veins or defined head that a human cock had. He made a stuttered groan as you touched him, his hand flexing on instinct and unintentionally squeezing the flesh of your ass, his hand large enough to cover the whole of your rump. It was just as well he was big, with your face up near his you could barely reach, the base of his cock closer to your knees than your own center, but his cocks were long enough that you could reach the top third of them anyway.

His eyes were shut as you touched him, making restrained groans as you ran your other hand up his chest, till it cupped his cheek, running your thumb curiously over the edge of a tusk. His eyes opened in surprise as you pressed your lips against his, small mouth slotting nicely between his tusks which were smooth against your cheeks. His eyes closed again as he returned the kiss, his lips parting as his tongue pressed against yours, so wide it barely fit in your mouth, sparking arousal at your core at just how big everything about him was. His sharp teeth were no issue as he kept dominance over the kiss, pollen driving his need as he began to buck into your hand, the tips of his claspers finding their way under your shirt till he was sliding against your warm bare skin. Something in him snapped as you let out a needy whine, pollen taking his mind completely as he broke from the kiss and flipped you over so your back was against his front, your core aligned with his. He pressed against your ass, his cocks driving against you as he rutted desperately till he found what he needed, the pair sliding between your thighs and making him growl as he found the pressure he was looking for. He immediately set a fast pace, fucking your thighs hard, hands holding your hips tight as his cocks rubbed firmly against your center, grinding against your clothed clit and making you moan. Your moans only spurred him on more, entirely driven by lust and need, and he could feel the way your panties grew damper with every long pull, the scent of your arousal thicker by the moment and slowly driving him insane.

He made a possessive growl as he tore your panties from your body, making you yelp in surprise, his hands pushing your shirt up roughly and groping your soft breasts as he felt the first drops of your slick against his cocks and made a deep satisfied rubble that reverberated through your chest as he pinned you against him. His claspers were pressed hard against your pussy, slicker with every pull, rolling your clit back and forth between them as they moved, making you whine and squeeze your thighs harder to force more pressure. You couldn't have fought him off even if you wanted to, his hold so tight on you as he moved one hand back to your hip, the other still kneading your breasts and playing with your nipples, that clicking sound of his teeth slamming together returning behind you. A thought occurred to you, knowing he was being driven by instincts right now, and knowing many predator species used their teeth to hold the female during mating.

“Boss, you can bite me if you need to,” you whined, pulling your shirt aside to expose your skin. His nose breezed against your neck again, making you shiver, the clicking sound now right against your ear. Your shirt was suddenly torn open, the remnants hanging weakly from your torso as you felt his teeth nip at your skin. He didn't sink them in like you thought he might, instead just pricking the skin like little needles, barely noticeable past the pleasure he was giving you, making small love bites that only occasionally drew a tiny amount of blood, which he would tenderly soothe with his wide tongue before making a new mark. The deep rumble in his chest continued, almost akin to a purr, making your whole body vibrate pleasantly. He shifted slightly and it had the effect of making one cock zero in on your clit. Previously it'd been sort of ground between them, but now he was making direct contact against it and your coil quickly pulled taught. You fought his hold instinctively against the overstimulation, but unable to escape you had no choice but to let go, gushing over his cocks and shaking hard against him. He groaned as he felt your release and bit your shoulder again, this time holding his teeth almost threateningly against your delicate skin as the ends of his claspers opened like umbrellas and great swathes of cum shot from them, pooling against your thighs and on the mattress in front of you as you made overstimulated whimpers.

His hold only slightly loosened on you, his thick tongue running over your shoulder and neck before shifting so you fell back against the mattress, cum pooling underneath you as the weight on the mattress made it run in your direction. You felt utterly lewd sitting in a pool of his cum, some of it still dripping over your front as you panted, the thick fluid slowly seeping into the bedding below as it cooled. His tongue never stopped moving as he loomed over you, running it over your torso, wide enough that he could envelop an entire breast with one swipe of the wet appendage before sucking it into his mouth, careful of his teeth as he flicked your pert nipples with the tip of his tongue. You were a squirming, panting mess underneath him, the scraps of your shirt pulled from your body leaving you entirely nude underneath him, his tongue travelling further and further down as he licked and touched every part of you. He pushed your legs apart and knelt between them, grabbing your ankles and pulling them up so he could run his tongue over your legs, leaving you with only the upper half of your torso against the mattress as he dangled you practically upside-down. The way he manhandled you made you ache, he could snap you like a twig if he wanted to but his hands were firm and gentle, prying your legs apart as you grew suddenly shy. He gave you a hungry look as he held you open by your thighs, his large hands able to wrap right around them like he was holding no more than a couple of training weights, admiring the vibrant blush on your face as you failed to hide behind your hands, and the way his cum was now coating your hair with the way he was holding you. He kept eye contact with you as he ran his tongue between your folds, making you buck and squirm as he held you tight, lapping at you like you were a frozen treat before zeroing in on your sensitive clit and giving it a harsh suck. The sounds you were making made him rut against nothing, though occasionally you could feel the tips of his hardened lengths against your back whenever his hips jolted forward. The end of his tongue teased against your entrance and you held your breath, overly anxious from having never been penetrated before. He could see your hesitation and despite the cloud of lust, he stopped himself, concerned for your wellbeing.

“Do you want me to stop, my pearl?” He asked, voice husky and deep, making your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you shivered.

“No, don't stop,” you whined, “I just haven't… I've never had anyone there”

“I can avoid that, if you'd like,” he said softly, “there are plenty of other things I can do,” he continued playfully, running his tongue flat over your pussy to emphasize his point.

“No, I want it,” you moaned, reaching up to touch him but unable to reach, arms falling uselessly back to the blankets, “I want you inside me, please Jinbei”

Your hips rolled on their own accord, searching unconsciously for fullness, and his cocks twitched at your neediness. “I'll be so gentle with you, my pearl,” he cooed, the tip of his tongue back at your entrance where you ached for him. He pushed it in slowly, watching your face carefully for any sign of unease or pain, knowing full well his tongue was thicker than any normal human man's cock. He probably should have used his fingers first, but they were impossibly thick as well, so it probably made little difference. At least your previous orgasm had relaxed you a little, allowing him to get about a third of his wide tongue inside you without much resistance, slowly sinking more in as you stretched around it. You were already moaning and writhing at the fill and he hadn't even done anything yet, making a grin spread over his face as he watched you drape an arm over your eyes and grope at your own breast with the other hand.

Finally he hit the thickest part of his tongue, sliding the rest in with relative ease, making you let out a long, deep moan as his tongue began to thrust in and out of you, causing you a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you. He barely had to move, making agonizingly slow, shallow pulls and thrusts with his tongue that had your pussy fluttering around him, crying out in pleasure while your honey pooled on his tastebuds. He curled it inside you, pressing against your spongey g-spot and making you see white as you suddenly came again without warning, gushing on his tongue, making him groan as he made lewd slurping noses and drank your release.

“You're doing so well, my pearl,” he praised as he removed his tongue, giving you one more wide stripe of it before lowering your pelvis to his lap as he licked his lips. You could feel his claspers, hard and twitching against your back. Your legs were either side of Jinbei, soaked pussy pressed against his front by design, arousal catching on his curly black tuft of pubic hair as your chest continued to heave with every heavy pant. Your ass was pressed against the base of his cocks, and from this position you could feel how they reached all the way to your upper back, to the bottom of your shoulder blades. There was no way you could take him, it was physically impossible, but you couldn't help your curiosity as you wondered what it might feel like for him to fill you with what he could, especially given the nirvana you'd found with his tongue alone. One of your hands stayed drapped over your face, unable to bring yourself to look at him, embarrassed by how debauched you must look. The other you slid under your back, making Jinbei grunt as you found a clasper and stroked it experimentally.

“Jinbei,” you whined, “want you~”

“Are you sure, my pearl?” He asked hesitantly, bringing a thumb to your wet cunt and pressing it gently against your swollen clit, making you squeak. You could feel how hard he still was underneath you despite how much he'd cum earlier, the pollen needed more from him, he needed another release, and you wanted it too.

“Want you inside me, please,” you moaned, rolling your hips to grind yourself against his thumb. Jinbei's teeth clicked together again, and he shook his head as he fought the suffocating cloud of lust the pollen was causing. Everything in his brain was telling him to grab you hard and use your body till you were fat with his babies, but he couldn't do that to you, so small and fragile and trusting under his strong hands. You finally pulled your arm away from your face enough to look at him, peeking out from beneath your forearm, eyes blown out with lust, your lip millimeters from bleeding as you bit down on it.

“Fuck,” he huffed, knowing full well he couldn't deny you when you were looking at him like that. You shivered with anticipation, you were sure you'd never even heard him swear before, and it made your pussy drip knowing it was your expression alone that made the usually polite, well mannered gentleman curse. He wasn't even sure at this point if it was the pollen or just your body squirming under him that made him feel so aggressively horny and possessive of you, seeing the perfect half moons of small red dashes that littered your skin from his teeth, marking you as his. He wanted all of you, and the way you gripped his cock told him how much you wanted all of him too.

He slid his hand under your rump for just a moment, freeing the clasper you weren't holding, pulling it to the front and letting it fall heavy against you with a wet slap. The base of it gave you something to grind against, which you did eagerly, lubricating him with your arousal while his tip laid between your breasts, precum dripping from it and dribbling down towards your neck. You looked at him as you teasingly craned your neck, swiping your tongue over the end and gathering some of the salty fluid that leaked from it, feeling it pulse against your abdomen as more fluid leaked onto your tongue. You let yourself lay back again, ass still raised in his lap as you grinded against him, licking your lips as you held eye contact. He made a little growl, undeniably turned on by what you'd done, then he grabbed you with a hand under your back and the other under your ass, scooping you up and moving you easily as though you weighed nothing, seating you on the long bench that bordered the aquarium. Your body was almost as blue as his under the soft lighting, and his hands pressed against the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and out so your cunt was on full display for him, pussy slightly gaped from his thick tongue and glistening with honey. He had you practically folded in half, chest and head pressed against the back of the padded bench, ass at the edge of the seating, legs in the air. You would have been embarrassed by how exposed your cunt was but the hungry way he was looking at you overrid any inclination of shyness. He lowered his face to your pussy and ran a wide stripe up it again, letting his tongue continue upwards, running over your stomach and between you breasts, lapping up his own precum until his tongue reached your mouth and he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

He used the kiss to distract you as he slid two thick fingers inside your pussy, pumping you slowly and scissoring them to stretch you out, the webbing between fingers catching against your edges and assisting with the stretch. He added a third, swallowing the whine you made at the slightly painful stretch, which faded back to pleasure as you adjusted to him. He brought his cocks up to rest against your stomach and you reached between your bodies to take one in each hand, stroking them the pace he was setting with his fingers even if you couldn't fit your hands right around them.

Satisfied you were open enough to take him, he sat back on the balls of his feet, fisting his claspers together in one hand, his hands big enough to reach around both at once with no issue. You bit your lip as you looked at them, so impossibly big, and it was like he could read your mind as he ran a soothing thumb over your inner thigh.

“I don't expect you to take all of me, my pearl,” he assured you, “just some of one will feel devine I am certain. Are you ready my love? You can say no, I won't be upset with you.”

You nodded and bit your finger nervously, letting your knees fall outwards to spread yourself as wide as you could, feet resting on the curved bench either side of you. He took a clasper in each hand, guiding one to rest against you while he positioned the other at your entrance. “It may hurt a little at first, but only for a moment. You'll tell me if it gets too much, right?”

You nodded again and he gave you a soft smile, running a hand up your chest till it cupped your face, holding you so very gently and rubbing his thumb over your cheek and lips as he began to slide his cock inside you. He'd prepared you well, but there was still some amount of stretch, a slight stinging pain as your entrance widened to its limits. He saw the pained expression on your face and cooed soft praises, moving as slowly as he could until he felt his tip press against your cervix, pulling back a little so he wouldn't hurt you by pressing against it. He stayed deadly still until the pain written on your face melted, your expression falling back to pleasure as you appreciated just how full you were with his body connected to yours. When your eyes opened, not even realising you'd closed them in concentration, you found him looking at you with such pride and devotion that you couldn't help but offer him a half-lidded smile, which he returned with his usual toothy grin, making your heart soar.

“Are you ready now, my love?” He asked softly, his smile making you feel significantly less nervous, remembering that this was Jinbei, and you were safe with him.

“Y-yes,” you replied, biting your lip as he began to drag himself back out of you, and gripping the fabric of the bench below you hard as he sunk back in. His pace was agonizingly slow for both of you, barely half of his cock shealthed, the other clasper resting heavily against your abdomen and grinding against your clit with every thrust, meeting with the buldge in your abdomen that made Jinbei's eyes roll back every time he saw it, aroused by seeing himself so deep inside you.

Bit by bit he increased his pace as you grew more comfortable, whines turning to strings of loud moans and cries of his name, making tears in the fabric of the seating below you as your nails sank into it while you held on for dear life. Your entire body was being rocked back and forth as he fucked you, pollen slowly winning out over his better judgement as he lifted one of your legs and nipped at the calf. He had to put all his will power into keeping himself from sinking any deeper into you, but your hot wet walls felt so tight and devine around his cock, the soft skin of your belly giving pleasant friction to the other. The hand not holding your leg was resting at the top of the bench over your head for support, wood creaking under the strain as it threatened to break. He couldn't help but blush when he looked up and saw the fish in the aquarium watching him, a small audience as he fucked you senseless.

“Jinbeiiii,” you whined, pulling his attention from the voyeuristic fish, “I'm- I'm gonna-”

“Let go for me, my pearl,” he groaned, “I'll be right there with you, you're doing so very well”

You went practically silent as you saw white, body arching off the bench and seizing, hands reaching out and grabbing at forearms, sinking your nails into them as you came hard. You felt a swelling inside you as his clasper opened, vaguely registering through your haze as the other opened against your belly, liquid spraying out over your breasts and neck, some even splashing against your face, while more still filled you and dripped from your overstuffed cunt as Jinbei groaned and stilled. Both of you went slack, Jinbei's cocks slipping from on and in you and slapping against his thighs wetly as he pulled away, hands either side of you to keep him from crushing you. He kissed you softly, both of you unable to do any more than exhausted soft pecks in the intense afterglow of your orgasms, cum dripping down your center and leaking from your cunt, pooling on the floor beneath you as he helped you sit up a little better. He looked at the fish above you and gave them a little growl, the school quickly dissipating at threat of being eaten.

You weren't sure how long the two of you sat there in silence, panting heavily and exchanging soft kisses. At some point he redressed, using the cloths and towels you'd prepared earlier to clean you both up as best he could. He frowned at your clothes, torn in his lust-addled haze, making note to himself to replace them, before taking the cape from his kimono and wrapping it around you. He sat on the bench next to you and pulled you into his lap, and you giggled as he hand fed you snacks and water, smiling to himself at how cute you were, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks that you still seemed so trusting of him after the relatively hard fuck he'd given you. His mind felt a lot clearer, the pollen now worked out of his system, but he couldn't find any ounce of regret at what had happened, and neither could you.

[gluion]

wish you were sober — seok matthew

seok matthew x reader, slight myung jaehyun x reader

wc — 6.9k genre & warnings — fluff, light angst, crack, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, vomitting in one scene, kissing/making out, jealousy, zb1 friendgroup antics, HAOBIN AND GYUBRIK CANON SRY, boynextdoor and kiss of life cameo, reader has hair long enough to be tucked and held back playlist/inspired by — apt. by rosé & bruno mars // sober II by lorde // wish you were sober by conan gray // urs by niki // lovers rock by tv girl notes — wrote this mainly bc my life changed the moment matthew read my sign in the jebewon con, finished it the day matthew was @ the prada event. and in both instances, i've gotten significantly more ill, so here's this very self-indulgent, self-insert fic (where aspects are derived from my own experiences) <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — as far as matthew knows, you still liked another man. yet, your friendship with him takes a sudden turn over a drunken confession... or three.

(or in other words, the three times you confess to matthew under the influence but he never believes you—until you tell him sober.)

the first time you confess to matthew happens on the night of hanbin’s graduation—no, not a confession of love but one of attraction.

if matthew has to be completely honest, he still doesn’t know what to make of your words. over the course of three years, he wouldn’t have suspected your interest in him. if anything, he’s under the impression you still like jaehyun. yet, everything shifts the moment he stumbles into the same bathroom as you.

“hanbin, have you found yourself a job?” gyuvin pops the long awaited question.

more than half of the group finds themselves in the kitchen. matthew knows that gunwook’s coming from soccer practice and yujin had to stay home for a doctor’s appointment the next day. as for you, he remembers seeing you with julie on the search for jaehyun and sungho.

the graduated fellow groans. “don’t remind me that i’m unemployed. this whole job search is going to kill me.” hao chuckles as hanbin rests his head on his shoulder.

gyuvin slings his arm around jiwoong’s shoulders. “oh, don’t worry! i’m sure this employed man can make something happen, right?” 

“me? you should be asking ricky!” all eyes land on the blond who sips away on a drink. “he’s the one with a family business. i’m barely making it in that goddamn nine to five that i’m still mixing shit for you college students.”

ricky elbows jiwoong’s side, causing the man to yelp. “you could be asking me for a job if you really hated the one you have now.”

“really? you could save me?” jiwoong almost gets on his knees until matthew holds him back.

“please don’t do that. not everyone knows you here.”

the man complies and puts his hands together. “ricky, please. i might just kill myself if i have to deal with another overtime. i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i properly hung out with you guys.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to stick with us all the time. you have a job.” taerae’s point only brings him to a fit of laughter as jiwoong tickles him.

regardless of how loud taerae and jiwoong are, the rest of the group continues to discuss hanbin’s dilemma. “but yes, i could make something happen if you really want,” ricky offers.

“really? thank you!” hanbin hugs him. “it’s almost impossible to find a job. i don’t know why.”

“tell me about it. i can’t even get an internship. i’m already willing to settle for an unpaid one but no one seems to be accepting,” taerae complains as he leans against the wall. 

hao swishes around the alcohol in his cup. “that does make me wanna ask what the upcoming seniors are planning to do.” his eyes darted between taerae and matthew.

taerae grins. “the goal is to become a trophy wife.”

“of course it is.” gyuvin laughs before leaning against ricky. “i’m marked safe. i don’t know about you guys.”

jiwoong groans while taerae rolls his eyes at their public display of affection. “you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

“yeah, whatever. what about you?” ricky looks at matthew. “are you still planning for medschool or is there another career crisis happening again?”

he shakes his head. “nah, i’m still pretty set on med school. next year is going to be hell for me.”

“ah, that means matthew is going to be the one providing for his partner! taerae, now’s your chance.” hanbin’s joke has everyone bursting into laughter.

taerae dramatically clears his throat, choking in between which only makes them wheeze. “matthew, can i be yours?”

matthew gets closer to his friend, his face only a few inches apart before saying, “not until you let me become yours.” at his double down, everyone starts to make gagging noises, including taerae who physically cringes.

“get a room!”

“damn, no kiss?” ricky’s joke in contrast to gyuvin’s complaint has jiwoong chuckling.

“yeah, you know what? fuck you, guys. i’m going to find someone at this damn party.” with that, taerae ventures off. jiwoong follows without another word.

gyuvin’s phone rings in his pocket. as he brings it out, he sees a message. “oh, gunwook’s already here! i’m gonna go grab him.” ricky trails behind his partner, leaving matthew with the other couple. 

hanbin looks around before asking, “hey, where is y/n?”

“last time i saw them, they were looking for myungjae and sungho.” matthew chugs down his drink before letting out a sigh.

“i wonder when they’ll finally grow a pair and ask him out, or just do something about it,” hao wonders out loud as he stares off into the crowd. “it’s almost painful to watch. i feel like i need to play cupid.”

“wait, why haven’t you been helping them out?”

hanbin’s question has matthew laughing in disbelief. “you think i haven’t? i’ve done almost everything to push them. i even told them all the signs that show he’s clearly interested, but y/n won’t budge. i’m surprised they’ve been sane enough to not say anything even while drunk.”

it almost seems like their conversation summoned jaehyun into the kitchen as he comes rushing to them. “oh, speak of the devil. we were just talking about you,” matthew says with a smile until he sees worry taking over jaehyun’s features.

“guys, i think y/n had too much to drink.”

matthew stands up straight. “where are they?”

“in the bathroom with julie.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to you while jaehyun follows. “what even happened?”

“y/n was fine, i swear. with how they were acting, we all thought they were just tipsy. but it was like watching a sudden switch from that to… genuinely almost passing out.”

it’s not that matthew doesn’t trust jaehyun. if anything, he would trust him any other day to watch over you, but tonight’s events only show that jaehyun still has much to learn about you. the guilt in his voice only shows how much he cares.

as soon as matthew spots sungho and natty outside of the bathroom, he rushes to them. “oh, thank god you’re here. julie is helping them freshen up right now,” sungho says. 

“we weren’t trying to get them blackout drunk, we swear. we really thought they were okay, but i don’t think they ate enough before drinking. me and julie were helping y/n as they were throwing up but they kept looking for you.”

matthew rubs his chin over natty’s explanation. “can i go in?”

“uh, let me check.” natty knocks on the door before swinging it open.

“matthew, we’re sorry. we really didn’t know,” jaehyun apologizes.

before matthew can say anything, julie exits the bathroom. “i think they puked out whatever they could. just make sure they stay close to the toilet.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to the doorway. he sees your hunched figure by the bathtub as you sit on the tiled-floor. in your drunken state, you don’t notice him as you quietly sing a melody.

matthew should’ve been filled with worry. yet, he thinks back to natty’s words, and the image of you looking for him plays in his mind—and it’s a smile that he can’t get rid of.

once he closes the door behind him, your eyes snap to him. “matthew! you’re here.” your slurred words bring him to a chuckle.

matthew remembers the last time you were this drunk; it’s funny to find you in the same situation after telling him multiple times that you wouldn’t drink that much ever again. he crouches to your side, taking in the sight of your disheveled state. “y/n, i thought we weren’t going to drink that much anymore.”

“i know,” you hiccup before your eyes shut, “i’m sorry.”

sure, you were always a mess whenever you drank this much, but you were never intolerable—never to matthew. (after all, he’d deal with you in your most intoxicated state over the others.)

his hand reaches out to tuck some strands behind your ear. at the presence of his warmth, your cheek snuggles against his palm. “you don’t have to be sorry. it’s okay.” you melt into his touch. 

without thinking, his thumb caresses your cheek, etching invisible shapes onto your skin. he watches you twitch over the action, and your eyes meet him once more. 

matthew’s ready to draw his hand back, help you stand up and escort you back to your place—

“you’re so pretty.”

his movements halt. matthew doesn’t know if he heard you right or if the alcohol is getting to him as well.

“huh?”

and the next thing you say stops him from breathing. “you’re so cute.”

it’s not unusual for you to compliment him, really, but something’s different about now. maybe it’s the alcohol or the distance between you two, but all matthew knows is that your words carried some weight different from other instances.

perhaps now is the worst time for matthew to be stuck in a daze. you’re drunk. he shouldn’t be making a fuss over the nonsense you spout, which is why he fails to catch the telltale signs of your impending nausea. (and you clearly wouldn’t have caught yourself in your intoxicated state.)

before you both know it, you throw up on yourself, and that finally snaps matthew out of a haze. he’s quick to grab the trashcan and bring it close to you. as you vomit, he holds your hair back. it keeps on going, and going, and going—at least matthew will take that as a clear sign that you’re done for the night.

on the next day, matthew asks if you remember what you said last night. when he’s met by your confusion, he knows better than to not think anymore of what you said then.

(and instead of sharing your slurred words, he tells you of the vomiting mishap in the bathroom. jesus fucking christ, i am not drinking ever again, you say in embarrassment.)

ever since that night, matthew has made it a habit to ask about your progress with jaehyun. it’s not that he’s running away from the events of that night. after all, hanbin’s right; matthew should do a better job in playing cupid for you and jaehyun. yet, all questions pertaining to your relationship with the boy were always met with a shrug and a refusal to dive into the details.

a few months pass. something romantic has yet to develop between you and jaehyun. at this point, matthew is feeling hopeless about the future you dream with that boy, but he isn’t the type to give up. he knows that there’s something between you two—all you need is a push.

“happy birthday, gyuvin!” everyone cheers as their cups clink against each other.

the birthday boy grins as he leans on ricky’s shoulder. “thanks, everyone. i’m glad you guys are here,” he mumbles. his cheeks have gone red and his words are starting to slur. considering how long the party has been going, matthew isn’t surprised to see gyuvin very much intoxicated.

for his birthday, he decided to invite his friends from his other social circles; basketball jocks, gaming nerds, and even student council folks take over his house as they talk and play over drinks. gyuvin thinks now would be the best time for all of his friends to meet. still, most of the group sticks together.

“you know, you should just hire me to bartend for your parties. everyone in this party seems to be chugging the drinks i mix for them,” jiwoong jokes as he bumps his shoulder against gyuvin.

“isn’t the next party going to be halloween? are we even planning to host one?” hanbin asks.

taerae tries to recall the previous arrangement. “didn’t we agree to spend halloween with yujin?”

“nah, we decided on christmas. yujin said he has plans for halloween, so we can host or just find another party to crash.” gunwook’s response brings the whole group to look at him. he raises his hands in defense. “don’t look at me! i’m not offering to host.”

“does myungjae not plan to host one?” hao’s question seems to be directed at matthew with how his eyes are on him.

jiwoong brings his hands together. “perfect! he might hire me.”

matthew rolls his shoulders back. ever since he tried playing cupid, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to go to him for anything related to you and jaehyun. first, it was when gunwook wanted to know about jaehyun’s schedule. next, it was gyuvin when he asked if jaehyun and his friends would be attending this party.

it’s not like matthew knew everything about myung jaehyun. 

(unfortunately, it doesn’t help that he only has jaehyun’s schedule because he had to find a way to make you spend time with him. what doesn’t help his case any more is that he only knew of jaehyun’s attendance because he wanted to make use of this party to push you to do something.)

“i wouldn’t know.” matthew takes a sip of his drink. “and, wouldn’t hanbin know? he’s closer to myungjae than i am.”

“we should just ask him. where is he, anyway?” hanbin looks around.

“probably with y/n, or something,” ricky jokes before swaying in his spot with gyuvin. “any update on that? what’s been going on with them.”

all matthew does is shrug in response.

“guys, hear me out…” gyuvin calls on the group’s attention. “truth or dare.”

a beat passes.

“let’s go find myungjae.”

“yah! it’s my birthday.” gyuvin pouts over hao’s reaction. “don’t you guys think it’ll be fun?”

jiwoong scoffs at gyuvin’s question. “fun? the last time we played, it resulted in someone losing their clothes and me almost losing my job from a tweet you guys made.”

“i thought you hated your job, anyway.” taerae’s comment results in a scolding from jiwoong. “what?! i’m just pointing it out.”

while some were against the idea, others were onboard with gyuvin’s idea. “i’m sure it’ll be fun. let’s get myungjae and the others to join in as well,” gunwook suggests.

then, it hits matthew that this is it—this is the opportunity that he needs to push you. under the guise of a simple and fun game of truth or dare, he could maximize whatever option you choose. “i’m in.”

everyone ends up agreeing with gyuvin’s game. from there on, all matthew needs to do is grab you and jaehyun and hope that his plan moves forward. (and get his other friends to join, sure.)

matthew is lucky that he’s able to spot julie in a sea of students. while she’s busy chatting with the seniors, he realizes that you and jaehyun aren’t with her. he continues to move through the crowd. the last thing he wants is to see you too drunk to function, especially when the universe presented him with the perfect opportunity for you and jaehyun.

yet, it comes to his surprise that he sees you in the corner, whispering into the ear of your crush with your hand against his chest. the grin on jaehyun’s face is enough for matthew.

maybe you didn’t need your friend’s help. just from the distance (or the lack of it), matthew thinks you might have everything under control. that means that matthew can sit back and allow you two to unfold this romance.

but there’s a sting in matthew’s chest. he’s sure it’s not a heart attack; it should come in a form of squeezing, and the pain should spread throughout his body. yet, the one he’s experiencing is merely an ache. maybe he should hold himself back from drinking any more.

“have you found y/n?” gunwook rests his hand on matthew’s shoulder. before matthew can respond, gunwook spots you and jaehyun. “myungjae! y/n!” at his call, you two snap your attention to them. matthew can already tell how intoxicated you are from how you spin your head to his direction. “come! we’re gonna play a game.” with that, gunwook takes his leave.

matthew’s suspicions are further proven with your inability to walk straight to him. “matthew! there you are,” you giggle as your arm links with his. your hiccup brings matthew to look at jaehyun.

“how much did they have this time?”

“less than the last time, but i’d still argue quite a lot.” 

while matthew and jaehyun try to find the group, you continue to latch onto matthew’s arm as you walk sluggishly. “do you not drink a lot?” matthew asks jaehyun.

the boy hums for a moment. “i do, but i think it’s better if i drink less when i’m around y/n. at least i’d be sober enough to take care of them.”

matthew has no reason to doubt jaehyun, especially with an answer like that. he knows that jaehyun would care for any of his friends; jaehyun’s always been the type to help out his friends with any task, but his choice to take that extra step tells matthew enough of his adoration for you.

“what are you guys talking about? are you talking about me?” you slur the question as you tug on matthew’s arm. “it better be good things.”

matthew can’t help but laugh.

as soon as matthew and jaehyun spot the rest of their friends gathering into a circle around a bottle, the three of you quickly find your own spots to settle into.

jaehyun takes a seat near sungho, leaving some space beside him. before matthew can go somewhere farther to sit, your grip on his arm holds him back. “hey, stay with me.” matthew’s eyes flicker between your drunken expression and jaehyun’s gaze fixed on him and you.

“you’re okay. you’ll be with myungjae.”

matthew’s confident that you would agree to sit beside jaehyun. after all, the boy took care of you for most of the night. yet, your grip never falters, and nothing could’ve prepared him for the last sentence you mumble, one only for him to hear.

“no. want you with me.” 

matthew stills. the music becomes muffled and the chatter surrounding him falls silent. instead, the beating of his heart fills his ears as heat rises to his cheeks—and he doesn’t know why. 

“hey! sit down!” gyuvin calls him out. with all eyes on you two, matthew doesn’t want to upset you any further. if he pushed to sit somewhere else, it would only cause a scene, and that’s the last thing he wants on his friend’s birthday. matthew finds himself sinking into a spot beside you.

the game proceeds accordingly, where most chug some more alcohol with every round that passes. secrets spill out of people’s mouths and laughter seems to fill the air. and for some reason, with all the times that’s passed, you stayed leaning against matthew.

at least you weren’t drinking along with the others.

after multiple interrogations and embarrassing dares, taerae spins the bottle. “please please please, don’t make it me again,” he prays as everyone watches the bottle go in circles.

“i’d laugh if you had to do another one,” gunwook says before taking another shot. “actually, i’m going to hope it lands on you!”

taerae tackles his friend to the ground over his comment, making him yell out complaints. yet, the universe works in taerae’s favor—and also matthew’s.

“oh my god, finally!” taerae cheers as he sees the bottle pointing at you.

you blink a couple of times. “oh, fuck me.” your head finds its spot behind your hands.

“i have been waiting for this one.” taerae rubs his hands together. “truth or dare?”

you have always been the type to choose truth. with the group’s history with dares, you weren’t the type to take that risk, which is why it comes as a surprise to everyone when you say, “fuck it, give me a dare.”

this is it. this is the opportunity that matthew needed. “i have a dare!” he beats everyone from spitting out any useless suggestion. as soon as all eyes are on him, he glances at jaehyun before saying, “i dare you to do seven minutes in heaven.”

your eyes go wide over matthew’s suggestion. “what the fuck?” you smack his arm. “no way in hell am i going to do that!”

“nu-uh! a dare is a dare,” ricky argues. “don’t try to get out of this.”

gyuvin speaks up, “if it helps, you don’t have to do anything with anyone. take this as your opportunity to bond with someone, get your heart-to-heart talk or something. but you can also make out with them, we don’t really care.” before he can take another shot, ricky stops him from doing so.

you groan at your friends’ insistence. “but with who?”

the stars are aligning for matthew. he’s about to chime in with the perfect name—

“what if we just spin the bottle again?” all hope shatters for matthew, and myung jaehyun is to blame. “that can determine who will be with y/n. it’s completely by chance.”

before matthew can interject, gyuvin claps at jaehyun’s suggestion. “you know what? you’re so fucking smart. let’s do that.” with how intoxicated the birthday boy is, no one seems to go against his idea, including you, and matthew fears what will unfold once that bottle lands on someone that isn’t jaehyun.

as soon as gyuvin reaches out to spin the bottle, matthew shuts his eyes in hopes that the universe would listen to him in the same way it did with taerae. he’s not even doing this for himself—it’s all for you. he wants you to win as much as you do with yourself. (he hopes that, at least. he needs you to believe that you have something with jaehyun as much as he does. if you didn’t, then this would go nowhere.)

“oh.”

matthew says one final prayer. he opens his eyes at the sound of gyuvin’s reaction, and what he doesn’t expect to see is the bottle pointing right at him. matthew’s convinced that the universe is going against him.

“well, lead the way, birthday boy,” jiwoong says.

matthew glances at you, expecting to see disappointment, but he only sees an expression he’s never seen before—and one he can’t decipher. 

it doesn’t take a while until you and matthew are shoved into gyuvin’s walk-in closet. gunwook says they’ll keep the game going, but matthew attempts one last time to get out of this dare, only for the door to be shut right in front of his face.

as the shuffling of footsteps grow distant, matthew finally accepts defeat. he looks back to see you sitting on the floor with eyes shut. maybe you need these minutes to sober up. after all, who is the best person to take care of you if not him? 

matthew finds himself on the floor with you. seven minutes could easily pass with you two; not a single word needs to be said. but tonight, time seems to stretch into an eternity. matthew hates it.

he takes in the sight of you; your shirt’s disheveled and your nose scrunches from the heat of the room and alcohol. still, most things remain the same. your arms cross with every moment your eyes long for rest and your steady heart sounds throughout the room from every exhale.

since when did matthew notice all the small things about you? it’s not like you two were friends longer than he is with hanbin. he still finds himself forgetting trivial things about his friends—with you, it comes easy.

your eyes peel open, and for the first time, matthew’s nervous around you.

“you feeling better?”

you nod before sitting up straight. “yeah, i think the alcohol is leaving my system.”

“that’s good.”

seconds go by.

“so,” matthew clears his throat, “how are you and myungjae?”

a laugh escapes you, not like the ones whenever he cracks a joke but something he’s never heard before. “we’re okay.”

matthew waits a couple of moments until he realizes you weren’t going to expound. “oh, so now, i don’t get to hear you yap about your crush?” his comment manages to earn a laugh he’s familiar with.

but it’s turned into a reality. he can’t remember the last time you actually talked to him about myung jaehyun. if anything, it’s almost like you don’t want to talk about the boy to him.

matthew’s never been the type to force you to share anything, really, but he realizes it’s been a while since you mentioned the boy’s name. it’s impossible for him to ignore that. and tonight, he can blame his curiosity on the alcohol.

“are you hiding something?” 

“it’s not that.”

matthew hums. “then, what is it? 

silence falls on you two.

he takes the lack of your response as a sign. to not push any further. to not be curious. to respect your privacy.

to sit back and watch it unfold.

to forget all that you’ve said on that drunken night.

“myungjae and i are just friends.” matthew’s eyes snap up to meet yours. “we’ve always been just friends.”

“but that can change. i mean, i could help you! i’ve seen how much he cares for you, i’m convinced he likes you—”

“matthew,” you cut him off, “like i said, we’re just friends.”

he frowns. “i’m confused. just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you can’t be something more.”

your breath hitches, and his confusion deepens.

“you really think that?”

it’s at this moment that matthew spots something different about you tonight, one he’s never been on the receiving end of to experience—your glossy eyes filled with strong, bittersweet yearning.

and he holds his breath before saying, “yes.”

the bass of the music fades away. the heat of the alcohol means nothing. matthew could care less about who he came with to this party.

right now, it’s just you two. 

“i don’t like myungjae.” your reveal causes matthew to frown. “i haven’t liked him for a while.”

“oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

matthew has a million questions running through his head. what caused the change or heart? how long ago did you know that? is there something wrong with jaehyun and he never saw? 

“i—”

“when—”

he shakes his head. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, it’s okay. what were you going to say?”

“it’s just… i wanted to know when you realized that.”

a chuckle leaves you. “even before hanbin’s graduation party.”

“you could’ve told me! if i had known, i wouldn’t have kept pushing you to do something with myungjae.” matthew hides his mouth in embarrassment. 

you shake your head. “it’s okay. i didn’t tell you because…”

matthew notices your fingers fiddling with each other, an unconscious habit of yours whenever you’re anxious, and his confusion grows.

he doesn’t want you to think he can’t be trusted with your secrets, your stories, everything about you. after all, he wants to be your friend��your person—and how can he do that if you felt an ounce of shame to tell him that? he needed to let you know that—

“i like you.”

time stills for a moment.

for once, matthew doesn’t know what to say. 

“time’s up!” the door swings open, revealing gunwook and taerae whose grins are lopsided. “did y’all enjoy the heart-to-heart?” gunwook’s question is an innocent, light-hearted one, but the silence hanging between you two is nothing of the sort.

before matthew knows it, you let out a giggle. “of course!” in your attempt to stand up, you almost lose your footing, causing taerae to reach out to you. “sorry. i don’t know why but i feel a lot drunker than before.”

your slurred words only makes taerae shake his head. “oh, my silly lil alcoholic. let’s keep it going!”

the three of you exit in high spirits. yet, matthew finds himself stuck in his spot.

stuck in his memories.

stuck in the last conversation.

stuck in your words.

stuck in denial.

“yah, matthew! hurry up! we’re still playing,” gyuvin shouts from outside of the room.

because you’re drunk. you probably didn’t mean anything you said, like how you didn’t mean what you said at the last party. 

for the rest of the night, you continue to enjoy gyuvin’s birthday.

matthew attempts to do the same.

it’s been two months since that conversation. on the morning after the party, you admit to the group that you lost recollection of the events that transpired on gyuvin’s birthday. with how much the birthday boy drank, he found himself in the same boat as you. taerae says that it’s only best that you don’t remember anything from that night, mainly to save his pride.

but matthew remembers it all. he remembers how you looked at him that night, how your breath hitched, how long the silence was all before you lied.

and he knows you lied.

all it took was one sight of you on a date with jaehyun for him to realize that.

matthew couldn’t believe he showed up to the halloween party, not because he wasn’t the type to deny an invite, but because it’s being hosted by jaehyun.

he has nothing against him, really, but the conversation in the closet shifted everything; his dynamic with the boy, his thoughts surrounding your relationship with jaehyun, his feelings towards you. matthew prefers to keep his distance out of respect for you two.

that doesn’t mean he won’t talk about it with others.

“i really don’t think they’re together.”

“hanbin, did you completely forget what i said?” matthew shakes his head. “they were on a date.”

he finds himself in the kitchen dressed as saiki k with an almost-finished bottle of soju in his hand. while the rest of his friends were off somewhere, hanbin and hao, who were dressed in stitch and angel onesies, stayed with him.

hao takes a sip of his drink. “how’d you know it was a date? they could’ve been hanging out for all you know.”

“well…”

“see! you can’t even defend your point.”

matthew groans. “that doesn’t change anything. i’m sure of it. i mean, they came in a couples costume!”

“they’re matching with sungho, you airhead,” hao points out.

hanbin laughs before adding, “as the incredibles, too!”

their doubtful reactions causes matthew to roll his eyes. he chugs the remaining contents of his bottle before grabbing himself another. “i thought i could trust you two.”

“and you can!” hanbin tries to snatch the bottle but fails. “dammit. just be responsible, okay? it’s already hard enough dealing with jiwoong and taerae when they’re drunk.”

hao sighs. “and you know, jiwoong’s drinking heavy tonight because he got laid off. hoping ricky can help him out.” matthew twists the cap open and drinks straight from the bottle once more. “hey, i’m still saying you should trust what we’re saying. whatever y/n shared in that closet might not be a lie.”

despite their attempts to convince matthew, he knows the truth. there’s no point in trying to prove him otherwise. so for now, he’ll drink the night away.

“i’ll see you guys later, or something.”

“matthew—”

he doesn’t spare a second to hear their protests. as much as he loves his friends, he needs some space to wallow in silence. all he longs for is a quiet space away from everyone with enough alcohol to forget everything.

“matthew!”

this is the last voice he wanted to hear, especially at his state. he sees jaehyun and sungho together dressed in black and red.

“oh my god, you’re matching with riwoo! you’re saiki k, right?” sungho asks.

matthew forces out a smile before nodding. “yeah. incredibles?” he points at the logo on their chests.

“yep! you should take a pic with riwoo!” jaehyun suggests

matthew would’ve agreed any other day, but he couldn’t talk to him. he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with the boy just because of his emotions. “myungjae, i would love to, but i have to go.”

“are you okay?”

when concern paints jaehyun’s features, matthew is reminded once more that there is nothing to hate about him. he needs to get over this whole thing. if you’re happy with jaehyun, he should learn how to be happy for you, too.

a sigh leaves matthew. “yes, sorry. i just need space, if that’s okay.”

“of course. i hope you’re okay. do you want me to bring you to a spot where it’s quiet?”

matthew shakes his head before reassuring the host, “it’s okay, i’ll figure it out on my own.” and with one final nod from jaehyun, matthew walks off.

he passes through the crowd, exchanging brief greetings with familiar faces, until he reaches a hall filled with doors. most rooms were already occupied, and the last thing matthew wants is to know what they’re doing. all he cares about is finding an unoccupied room where he can drink the night, the confusion, the pain, away.

once he reaches the final door, he quietly begs the universe to give him what he needs. as he swings the door open, he notices that the lights are off, and that’s enough for him to believe it’s unoccupied. without sparing a second thought, he shuts the door behind him before letting out a sigh.

it takes him a few seconds for his vision to adjust. with the moonlight cascading over the walls, he’s able to take in his surroundings. as soon as he spots a shelf filled with poetry books, he realizes he’s in jaehyun’s room. matthew couldn’t believe what the universe is making him undergo. he found himself in the bedroom of someone he desperately needed to get away from, but he’ll make do with the last unoccupied space—or that’s what he thought.

“matthew?”

“holy shit!” he jumps along with his heart. as he clenches his chest, his eyes dart to the source of the voice—only to see his friend, his supposed something. your chin rests on jaehyun’s mattress as you stare at him; the same, glossy eyes he witnessed in the closet. matthew clears his throat before standing up straight. “sorry, i thought i was alone.”

you shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “no, sorry i didn’t say anything as soon as you came in.”

a beat passes.

“why… uhm, why are you sitting in the dark?” his chest throbs as he asks the question.

what if you were there to meet with jaehyun later in the night? or what if you had already met with him? maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason after all.

“needed to be somewhere quiet,” you answer. he watches you take a sip from a big bottle of vodka. “somewhere away from the party.”

if you need space, matthew is going to give you that. after all, you were in this room before he arrived. “okay, i’ll go leave,” he says as he turns his back on you.

“no, it’s ok—”

“it’s okay. you were here first, so—”

“matthew.” 

how your voice wavers is enough to stop him. from leaving the room. from wallowing in pain.

from abandoning you. 

he looks back, only to be greeted by the sight of you in tears. the moonlight shines against your figure, making you glow in the dark room, and he feels all resolve crumble.

matthew rushes to you. as he takes a seat beside you, he sets the bottle on the floor before his hands reach out to cup your face. “what’s wrong?” he asks as his thumbs wipe the tears.

you don’t spare him an answer; all you do is stare right back at him as the tears stream down your face.

matthew think’s he fucked up. was he busy with his issues to notice yours? did you need him? (as much as he needs you?)

yet, as soon as your hand reaches up to hold his, he realizes that this is all wrong; the distance, the physical touch, everything about this doesn’t respect what you have with jaehyun.

“i’m sorry.” he rips his hands away. “i shouldn’t have done that.”

his apology brings another flood of tears from you. “i thought we were friends.”

“we are friends.”

“then, if we’re friends, why couldn’t you give me an answer back then?”

matthew’s heart stills. “w–what?”

“i remember everything.”

the axis of his world tilts. 

“from the bathroom to the closet,” you sniffle, “i remember what i said, and i meant everything.”

all he knew then meant nothing to the present.

matthew can’t tell if the alcohol was affecting his senses. maybe he’s hallucinating, or his intoxicated mind is planting delusions that he wishes were part of his reality.

but he blinks hard, and he still sees you.

“please say something.”

matthew takes one breath. “i just… i don’t understand. i mean, i’ve been going like, 5 months, thinking those were meaningless words. even in the closet, you said you were too drunk. and you always claimed you had no memory the next day. i even thought you were on a date with jaehyun the other day.” as you scrunch your eyebrows at his admission, he takes it as a sign to explain. “i don’t know. i saw you two alone a few weeks ago, and i just assumed so.”

“we were just hanging out. there’s nothing going on between us.”

he shakes his head. “well, how am i supposed to know that? when i’ve been going through these months thinking all you said was bullshit until now?”

when guilt flashes in your features, he takes a moment to let his words sink in.

he watches you fiddle with your fingers before saying, “i just want to know why you did all that.”

“is it enough to say that i was scared? i mean, i used the alcohol as liquid courage. but in both times, i couldn’t tell if you felt the same, so, i panicked and said i don’t remember anything.”

one thing that matthew knows about you is that you were afraid to take risks—no, not in decision making but in relationships. he knew that the first time you held yourself back from introducing yourself to jaehyun, and he remembers when you finally approached the boy with at least 5 shots into the night.

“can you say something? anything?” you ask.

and all times, he understood your hesitancy. every time you second guess yourself, he’s the only person who knows when to act as your safe space or a pushing force.

“tell me again. tell me what you told me in the closet, i need to hear it from you.” but when your mouth parts open, ready to repeat the three-word phrase, he cuts you off. “when we’re sober.”

this time, he wants to know if he’s a risk worth taking—without the alcohol.

“tell me when morning comes, then you’ll know.” he sees confusion flicker in your eyes. “because i can’t risk anything when we’ve drunk our hearts out tonight.”

if there’s another thing matthew knows about you, it’s that you hate unfinished conversations. yet, a nod from you is enough for him to know why it would have to wait until tomorrow.

from there, matthew stands up before taking his leave.

all he can hope is that you won’t forget the next day.

when morning comes, matthew can hear a knocking on his door. he makes his way to the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes, before swinging it open.

“i like you.”

his eyes snap open to see you, whose eyes aren’t like the other nights but with something he’s familiar with—hope.

“i like you,” you repeat, “and i’m telling it to you now, without the alcohol.”

this time, matthew doesn’t have to doubt your words. he doesn’t have to shut down his friends’ attempts to comfort him. he doesn’t have to deny what he feels towards you.

without saying anything, his hands dart towards your waist before pulling you close to him. shock casts onto your features. as one thumb finds its way under your shirt, etching constellations that you two will only know of, his other hand reaches to tuck your hair.

his lips meet yours. as his hand travels down to caress your face, your arms slowly find their place around his neck. somehow, everything feels right, almost like you two had done this before. yet, the taste of your lips is one he’s never had. as your nose brushes against his, he can’t help but breathe you in like you’re the last thing keeping him alive.

as you attempt to pull back, he tries to chase your lips. “matthew,” you call out his name before he draws you back in for another intoxicating kiss, one where the buzz of alcohol could never compare to.

“don’t,” he mumbles in between, “let me have this.” he pulls you into his dorm with ease and shuts the door behind you. matthew pushes you against the door with his lips still on yours, hands exploring your figure.

from there, you don’t protest.

maybe he’s wanted you much longer than you did. maybe he’s wanted you ever since you revealed your crush on jaehyun and he never allowed himself to dwell on his own feelings. maybe he’s wanted you since the first time he’s ever set eyes on you. 

but one thing he knows is that he wants you—much more than you do with him.

(and he’d never allow you to think he wants you any less.)

networks taglist: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet @kstrucknet

zb1 permanent tag list: @deinsleeps

story taglist: @seokkiez @loserlvrss @itaerae

@blandtako @gong-fourz @rentenwins @pandagirl753

[copper-16]

Why Would She Say That?

Ingrid and Mapi’s daughter calling the Norwegian by her name for the first time

(a/n: hi guys! So a few people have been asking for a kid fic with Mapi and Ingrid, and to be honest I came up with a ton of ideas so I decided to just post little chapters as I write them instead of compiling them all into one big fic! I used the same character from an old kid fic I wrote about these two back a few months ago. I hope everyone enjoys! :)

Elena was just a little under a year old when it happened. She hadn’t properly started talking yet, had only babbled in the way that all babies did. It was one of Mapi’s favorite activities, to sit there with her and pretend that she understood what her daughter was saying. They would have whole conversations, Elena perched on her lap and just talking away at the Spaniard, who appeared to be hanging off her every word despite not understanding an ounce of what she was saying.

Ingrid, personally, found it incredibly adorable if not a little frustrating at times. She loved Elena very much, but when the little girl was upset sometimes there wasn’t much that could be conveyed through the pointing of her chubby fingers.

Which was why the Norwegian was elated when Elena began speaking, real, whole words.

She had tried not to be too discouraged by the fact that her daughter’s first word was “Mami,” the name they had very clearly picked out for Mapi to be called. Mapi was “Mami” and Ingrid was “Mama” they had decided, figuring that would be easy enough for a baby to understand while still being able to delineate between the two of them.

“Princesa, can you grab me Elena’s bag?” Mapi called out from her spot near the apartment entrance, with their daughter settled comfortably on her hip. The sandy blonde little girl eagerly pulled at her mothers hair, and Mapi winced slightly before gently pulling her chubby hand away, shaking her head at the baby despite the fact that she was smiling down at her.

But Elena just smiled back at her with delight, clapping her hands together as the brunette bounced her lightly, waiting for her wife to bring the bag they needed before leaving the house.

“Ma-ma-ma, pra-pra-pra, buh-buh-buh,” Elena puffed out softly, and Mapi nodded her head as she smoothed down the mess of sandy blonde curls atop her head.

Ingrid came around the corner with the bag in just a few seconds, smiling widely at her two girls, depositing a kiss on each of their cheeks as she passed the bag to Mapi.

“Elena, can you say bye-bye to Mama?” Mapi prompted, doubting that the baby would actually do it but still trying to get her to say the M-word, either way. But Elena just smiled up at the Norwegian without saying a peep, instead waving her hand goodbye. Ingrid allowed herself to lean into the laughter that tumbled from her mouth, tickling her daughter's belly slightly before she kissed Mapi softly in parting.

“Bye princesa,” Mapi mumbled against the Norwegian’s lips before she slipped out the door with their baby.

—

When the center back arrived back home just a few hours later, Ingrid was waiting at the door with anticipation.

“Elena!” The dark haired woman cooed in excitement, having missed the baby despite the small amount of time that had elapsed since they had last seen each other. And to her credit, her daughter was equally excited to see her, reaching for the Norwegian easily and allowing for her Mami to facilitate a quick trade off.

Ingrid covered the little girl's face in kisses before she turned her attention to her wife, who was gazing fondly at the two as they greeted one another.

“How was the doctor?” The taller woman asked, referencing the check up that Mapi had taken Elena to.

“Everything looks good. She’s in the 52th percentile for weight and the 45th for height, and everything looks healthy according to her doctor,” Mapi parroted, and Ingrid couldn’t help but nod in relief. When she had been pregnant with Elena, nobody had really warned her about the pre and post-partum anxiety she would feel. And while it had gotten better as Elena had gotten older, occasionally it still held her tightly for the most random of things, like a routine doctor's visit.

But Elena was fine, and Mapi was smiling at her brightly, and everything was okay.

After the three of them had dinner, they migrated to the living room to settle in for the night. Mapi was curled on the couch as Ingrid sat on the floor with Elena, playing with her blocks while she babbled away.

“Yes, this one is yellow,” Ingrid explained as the little girl held up a yellow block, watching as Elena dissolved into giggles and reached for another one, holding it up to her mother expectantly.

“That is purple,” Ingrid supplied easily, and instead of laughter Elena looked down at the purple block with confusion, her little brows knitted together in clear skepticism.

“Do you not like purple?” Ingrid asked, looking up at Mapi with an equally confused expression. Elena looked up at her Mama just as Mapi replied, also a little lost on what was going on.

“Mami!” Elena cried out gently as she looked back at Mapi, before looking at Ingrid again, the block still in hand.

“Maybe she just does not like that purple block, princesa,” Mapi tried, unsure of what was going on inside her daughter's little mind.

But just as Mapi finished her sentence, Elena dropped the purple block and reached for Ingrid insistently. The Norwegian easily reached for her daughter, pulling Elena into her with a gentle hug. Her daughter's little body melted into her completely, letting out a relieved little sigh.

When the dark haired woman pulled her daughter back, Elena smiled at her brightly.

“Prin-prin-prin,” Elena pushed out very insistently, as though she was trying to tell her mother something, and it was Ingrid’s turn to furrow her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Hm?” She asked the baby softly, not really expecting an answer but trying to mirror what her wife did with the little girl when they spoke.

“Princess!” Elena finally giggled out triumphantly, pointing at Ingrid with one of her chubby little baby fingers.

Mapi pitched forward with surprise from her spot on the couch as Ingrid nearly dropped her daughter from complete surprise, and for a moment both of them were completely still and silent as they looked from each other to their baby, back and forth.

“What did she just say?” Ingrid squeaked out, her voice an octave higher than it usually was. Mapi had slapped her hand over her mouth, and she was trying desperately to keep from laughing.

“María, what did she just say?” Ingrid repeated, staring at Elena with wide eyes. Her daughter was staring back at her with big eyes, confused as to why her mother was acting so strangely.

“She said princesa, I believe,” Mapi said from her spot on the couch, a smirk dancing across her lips. Ingrid looked over at her with huge eyes, more than a little shocked.

“Why would she say that! That’s not my name!” Ingrid exclaimed, but Mapi just raised a brow at her, unimpressed.

“Is it? It’s not like I haven’t been calling you that for years, princesa,” the Spaniard points out, emphasizing her last word heavily.

“Princesa!” Elena repeats happily, reaching forward to place her hand on Ingrid’s cheek as if to prove her point.

Ingrid looked from her wife back to their baby, who was staring at her with big eyes, as if she was the only thing in the whole world that mattered. She had never expected to have loved such a small human so much, and yet here she was. Completely and utterly head over heels in love with someone so tiny.

“Yes, that’s right, that’s me,” Ingrid whispers, her voice choked up as she struggles to get words out over her impending tears. The Norwegian pulls their daughter back into her, and Elena settles into her chest easily, her whole body pressed flush against Ingrid.

“You know who I am,” Ingrid murmurs into the little girl's sandy blonde hair, her words just barely audible. Tears are slipping down her cheek of their own volition, falling onto the carpet as Elena snuggles into her, and her wife finally moves from her position on the couch to join them on the floor.

She wraps her arms around Ingrid, allowing the Norwegian to press her face into her neck as she still cradles Elena close to her, the brunette bringing her hands up to gently rub at Ingrid’s back soothingly.

“She always knew who you were, you know that, right?” Mapi murmurs softly, trying to reassure the Norwegian that just because her daughter hadn’t said her name, didn’t mean that she loved the dark haired woman any less. Ingrid nodded into her neck, gathering herself for a moment before she leaned back, rocking Elena back and forth as she sniffled lightly.

She knew, but it was still something else entirely to hear her daughter say something that signified her, out loud.

Mapi reached forward to wipe the remaining tears from her cheeks, given that her wifes hands were relatively full at the moment. When Ingrid pulls Elena back slightly, the little girl seems concerned, looking up at the Norwegian with worry in her eyes. Ingrid can probably guess that she’s clocking the redness and blotchiness of her face from her crying.

“Mama?” Elena asks gently, and Ingrid feels her jaw fall open again as her face lights up, and she looks from their daughter to Mapi, who is looking back at her with excitement.

“That’s right, Mama! Mama is alright, mi sol,” Mapi reassures the little girl, but her words are twinged with excitement for her wife, and Elena giggles at them both before she reaches for the Spaniard, allowing Ingrid to safely transfer her from one parent to the other.

Mapi smothers the small girl with kisses before she looks back up at Ingrid, only to find her with more tears in her eyes.

“Are you crying again?” Mapi asks with a laugh as the Norwegian fixes her with a glare, but the intensity of it is lost as a tear rolls down her face.

“Ti stille,” Ingrid snaps, telling her wife to shut up though there is little bite to it, and the Spaniard simply chuckles in response as she bounces their daughter a few times before depositing her back to the Norwegian.

“Gosh - what a day! Ingrid…I think we might have the smartest baby ever,” Mapi decides with complete and utter seriousness, and Ingrid rolls her eyes slightly at the hyperbole, but she finds herself agreeing rather easily either way.

“I think you might be onto something there,” Ingrid decides as she cuddles her daughter close, the little girl giggling at all of the excitement as she tries to pull on some of Ingrid’s long dark hair.

“Ow, Elena!”

[lovemybluebully]

Salad is a Four Letter Word

Soooooo Venom seems to be popular again, especially with my new pal @ticklishdeadpool so this one is for you, buddy! 🍻

While I don't think I'm going to see the new movie I did decide to dig into my graveyard of abandoned fics. Found this WIP that I had started after the first movie came out and have now filled in all the gaps for your viewing pleasure. It was a little tricky as I haven't seen the movie in awhile, but hope I did okay. For that reason, I probably won't be writing anymore Venom fics for the current time, but at least this one will be out there now.

It's a totally nonsense-type of fic. lol Didn't really have anywhere that I was going with it so it had been abandoned, but still just fun, silly interactions between Eddie and Venom. With tickles of course! Me, write a fic without tickling? 🤣 Good one.

If you have a flesh-loving alien inside of you, you don't threaten to force him to eat salad. 😆

Venom (Movieverse)

Word Count: 2,546

"What are we doing here? We don't like this place."

Eddie let out an exasperated groan as he stood in the lobby of the hospital, waiting for the elevator to come back down.

"I already told you, Anne just wants to be safe and have Dan check me out. You know, just in case my body is having any adverse effects to you practically living inside me."

"We can assure you it is not," Venom gave an offended growl from inside of him just as the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah, well as much as I'd like to believe you we'll let the body scan decide that," Eddie nodded as he stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to the correct floor.

"Eddie doesn't trust us," the symbiote accused, prompting Eddie to roll his eyes as they moved up the floors of the building. For a powerful super alien from outer space he could sure be sensitive sometimes.

"Shut up, it's not that it's just that I need proof. I'm a reporter, and I like to have the facts."

"The fact is you're being a traitorous piece of shit."

The elevator finally stopped as they reached the selected floor and Eddie walked out into the hallway. He sighed heavily once he stopped in front of the door to Dan's office; his eyes looking up towards the ceiling as if trying to find his calm.

"Tell you what, if you behave here then we'll go get some McDonald's after this. Fair?"

"....Ok, deal. But lets make it a quick visit! I'm hungry!"

"You're always hungry," Eddie shook his head as he opened the door where the doctor and Anne were waiting.

"Hi Eddie, really nice to see you again," Dan welcomed him as he stood up from his desk and walked around to shake Eddie's hand.

"You too. Uh sorry we're late. My alarm didn't go off, and when I was trying to get out the door Venom was being his usual primadonna self and-Gaah!" Eddie grunted when a single symbiote tendril reached out and poked him in the ribs, just under the armpit.

"Keep talking, Eddie," Venom hissed threateningly; his head popping out from his host's back and wrapping himself over the wide shoulders.

"Well now I see who wears the pants in this relationship," Dan laughed, but it died out when Eddie gave him an annoyed glare, not finding his joke amusing in the slightest.

"It's a good thing you're a doctor and not a comedian."

"And it's a good thing you're a reporter and not a giant loser....oh wait," Venom snickered to himself while Eddie glared back at him.

"That's it. Deal's off."

"NOOOOO!!!" Venom wailed in sorrow as Eddie gave a smug grin and reconfirmed his earlier comment.

"See? Primadonna."

"Come on, guys, take it easy. This will all be quick and painless," Anne tried to break it up, though always finding their antics to be amusing.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be bad at all. Very standard procedure. So if you're ready we can get this all underway."

Eddie was then handed a hospital gown to change into as Dan led the way down to the lab.

.......................................

"Alright, buddy, we're gonna do an MRI now, and I know you don't like that so take a hike for a minute," Eddie instructed the alien as he gestured a thumb away from himself.

"Do I have to?"

"Just do it, would ya?"

"Ohhh ok," Venom grumbled as he seeped out of Eddie onto the floor, mostly forming into a blob, but with a serpent-like head extending out. Eddie blinked for a moment and then smirked down at the symbiote.

"You know, I never noticed how cute you actually look like that."

"We are not cute!" Venom glared up at him as Anne looked the symbiote over and nodded.

"You kinda are," she agreed with a grin, causing Venom to hiss and slither off out of the room.

"Well lets get this over with before Venom has a heart attack from not eating for thirty minutes," Eddie joked, purposely saying it loud enough for the alien to hear.

"It's been an hour, you prick!"

"Ooooh sorry, one whole hour! Someone better call CPS on me," Eddie rolled his eyes and climbed up onto the table. He then laid down with his arms at his sides as Anne looked back at Dan to give him the go ahead.

"Alright, we're all set. Here goes nothing," Dan said over the speaker as he controlled the conveyor to slide into the tube until only Eddie's legs and feet were sticking out, "Now try not to move and this won't take long."

"Got it," Eddie nodded, but with the position he was in Anne couldn't resist teasing him a little.

"Comfy in there?" Anne grinned playfully, running a finger up the bottom of Eddie's bare foot as the man yelped and jerked his leg.

"He-Hey! Well not when you do THAT!"

"Sorry, it's just too easy," she briefly tickled his other foot receiving another squawk of objection as Eddie pulled up his knees to put his feet flat on the table.

"Heehee, stop it!"

"Get him again, Anne," Venom goaded into the microphone from where he sat next to Dan inside the control room as Eddie yelled back at him.

"Shut your mouth, parasite!"

Dan was trying to remain professional, but had to use his hand to cover his mouth so he could hide his amused smile.

"Lay still, please. Anne, leave the patient alone."

Anne smirked, giving him a wink as she walked away to join Dan and Venom. Once he saw that she was at a safe distance Eddie put his legs back down.

A few moments later the machine came to life and began the in-depth scan, while the three observed on the monitors in the control room. After a minute of looking at the pictures on the screens Dan cleared his throat.

"Hmm. Well that's interesting...," the doctor trailed off in his thought, making Eddie assume something was wrong.

"What? What do you see?! He hasn't been snacking on my organs, has he?! Venom!"

"Actually everything looks perfectly normal. Organs are all intact, no restrictions in your blood flow, heart looks healthy, brain functions are top notch. All in all I'd say you check out just fine. It's incredible," Dan put his hands up in astonishment as he sat back in his chair.

"So you're saying that having Venom inside of him hasn't done any damage whatsoever?"

Anne was just as surprised to learn this new information as Dan shook his head in response.

"Not that I can see, no."

"Told you, pussy," Venom sneered haughtily, slithering out of the control room back into view while the conveyor drew Eddie out of the machine.

"Well that's a relief," Eddie sat up and immediately began putting his clothes back on, "Guess I can sleep better tonight knowing that this parasite inside me isn't leeching off of my body so much."

"That can easily change if Eddie keeps calling us names...," the symbiote growled as Eddie just shook his head with an amused smirk. Dan then walked out into the room, scribbling some notes onto a clipboard.

"Alright, well since we're all done with that it's safe for Venom to get back into your body now."

"Yes!" Venom whooped as he quickly hurled himself at Eddie, knocking him back onto the table.

"Hey! Watch it!" Eddie grunted as he then found himself forced off of the table to his feet.

"Come on, lets go Eddie! Now!" Venom shouted as he took control and yanked Eddie's body across the room towards the door much to the surprise of the other two.

"Uhh, goodbye?" Anne gave an awkwardly half-wave.

"I promised him McDonaaaaaaald's!" Eddie's voice faded as Venom violently drug him out of the room.

A SHORT WHILE LATER....

"Happy now?" Eddie asked with a sickened frown as he recanted watching Venom devour over ten quarter pounder cheeseburgers. The alien belched in response from inside of him as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Yes. That will probably hold us over for another hour or so."

"You know, you're a pretty expensive date," Eddie groaned as he looked into his wallet, only having a few dollars remaining now.

"Would you rather we ate a human instead?"

"Uhhh no, heh. No, I'd appreciate if you didn't do that," he laughed nervously as he glanced around at all the people on the busy street that Venom could easily snatch up if he so desired.

"Well then you shouldn't complain. Besides, you love us."

"In a really screwed up kinda way, yeah I guess so," Eddie smirked, "Now shut up, will ya? People are gonna think I'm crazy if they see me walking around and talking to myself."

"People already think we are crazy," Venom pointed out, making Eddie shake his head.

"Not complete strangers. Now not another word until we get back home. Got it?"

"But Eddie we can't stay quiet that long..."

Eddie just kept his mouth closed, pretending he didn't hear anything.

"Eddie...."

Still Eddie continued to ignore him

"EddieEddieEddieEddieEddie!"

Eddie just continued facing forward as he focused on getting back to his apartment down the street.

"Ignore me will you...," Venom then grinned slyly as he crept out underneath Eddie's jacket to stay unseen and then gently squeezed the man's shirt covered ribs, making his body jerk in an unusual fashion.

"Gggnnh! You little...!" Eddie yelled just as he was passing a mother with her child, who looked at him accusingly as she pulled her daughter closer and hurried on.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I didn't mean....Not her, I just....," he tried to explain himself as he stammered after them to no avail, hearing the mother mention something to the little girl about, 'That is why you don't do drugs'.

Venom chuckled at how perfect the timing of that had been as Eddie growled.

"Alright, very funny. Now stay still and stay quiet," he muttered, trying not to move his lips too much as his outburst had attracted some unwanted eyes.

He'd made it another half a block before his sides were being attacked again as he stumbled and clamped his arms down.

"Eeheehee!" He gave a high-pitched giggle, prompting some of the street vendors to give him odd looks as he blushed and tried to walk a little faster.

"Will you stop? You're making me look insane."

"Can we talk again?"

"No!" Eddie hissed, "Just keep your fucking mouth shut, and wait until we-Ehahahah!"

The tentacled goo dug into his armpits for a few moments as Eddie squirmed in place and laughed wildly.

"No, not there!" He yelped just as the tickling stopped, looking up to find people had paused on the street to stare at him with curious eyes.

"I uh...heh.....I'm just uhhh....," when he couldn't think of any kind of believable explanation he quickly just turned and walked away again.

"I hate you so much right now," he whispered loudly through gritted teeth, hearing Venom laugh from within and knowing he was getting a big kick out of making Eddie look like a fool.

"Think that's funny? Well guess who's eating nothing but salads for the next week or two."

Venom's snickers immediately were cut off as he was now silent for a moment.

".....You're bluffing," his voice was full of uncertainty and worry and that made Eddie smirk, knowing he had the upper hand now.

"Tickle me again and find out, fucker," Eddie threatened vaguely, and just let Venom stew in his thoughts for now about whether he was being serious or not.

It seemed to work as he had now made it a few blocks without incident, even stopping to have a nice chat with Mrs. Chen when he came across her sweeping up her store front.

"Evening, Mrs. Chen."

"Hello Eddie. Not going to buy a chocolate bar today like usual?"

"No, no chocolate. I was thinking about going on a diet actually," Eddie smirked slightly as he rubbed at his stomach.

"Ohhh, he's not going to like that," she smiled, referring to Venom and knowing that he was the one who had the sweet tooth.

"Well it's for his own good. Besides he's been misbehaving a lot lately so I had to put my foot down. Say you don't happen to sell any saHAAlads, do yoohou?" His body spasmed out of nowhere as the shop keeper gave him a concerned look.

"What's wrong, Eddie? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm f-INE! I'm juhust....Venom keeps....teehehehehee...I...I gotta go-ho, Mrs. Chen," Eddie stuttered through his giggles as he gave her a wave and continued on his way down the street.

"Don't worry, dear, he'll be back for that chocolate," Mrs. Chen called to Venom with a smile as the alien peeked out from under the back of Eddie's jacket and gave her a wink.

"V! What did I tell you?!" Eddie spat once they were out of earshot, "You really want to eat nothing but salads for a week?!"

All was quiet for a few moments before Venom finally gave a reply that made Eddie's skin crawl.

"Worth it."

A split second later and the tendrils were everywhere on his upper body; this time staying underneath his t-shirt to get directly at the bare skin. They were wriggling all over from his hips and belly all the way up his sides into his armpits, and there was nothing Eddie could do to try to hide his reactions.

The man was in a laughing fit now as he nearly fell over but managed to find his footing and continued to hurry down the sidewalk despite all the people staring at the hysterically laughing man as he went by. The tickling was unrelenting this time as he desperately looked for some kind of escape.

He finally was able to duck down an alleyway, stumbling and tripping over a garbage can as he went further down. After giving a brief look to make sure no one was around he collapsed with his back against a wall and shouted through his laughter.

"Okaaahaay! Okaahaahaaay! Hahahaha! You caahaan tahahalk agahahain! Now pleeeheease st....stop tihihickling meeheee!" His arms uselessly pressed to his sides as he kicked out and squirmed.

"And the salads.....?" Venom pressed with goo squirming up to tickle the reporter's sensitive neck as well, making him squeal out giggles.

"A johohoke! Juhuhust a johohohoke! Ahaahahaheeheehee! Plehehease buhuhuddy! I'm sohohorry!" Eddie shouted for mercy and was grateful when it was granted to him as he tried to calm down and get his breath back. Venom then popped out of his jacket to give him a shit-eating smile.

"Nice of you to come around, Eddie."

"....You're an asshole," Eddie glared playfully at him, giving him a small shove.

"Takes one to know one."

"Yeah? I thought I was a pussy?"

"Yes, but you're our pussy," the symbiote replied as Eddie's face gradually twisted in revulsion.

"Uhhh, thanks? I mean, that hardly sounds like a compliment, but thanks?"

"The best pussy we've ever had," Venom grinned proudly, in his mind thinking that had sounded better as Eddie only sighed and put his face in his palms.

"Please stop."

"Definitely the biggest."

"You can still eat me, right?"

[floralcyanide]

⊱ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑 ― 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑢𝑠 𝑆𝑛𝑜𝑤 ⊰

[ ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢᴇʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]

1960s ᴜs ᴘʀᴇsɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ!ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜs sɴᴏᴡ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒.

౨ৎ 18+ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs ᴏɴʟʏ !

⊹ summary: You are studying the one and only US President John F. Kennedy for your dual-title doctorate at Harvard University in 1963. Upon growing closer to the president, you happen to meet one of his Harvard friends, Coriolanus Snow, who is campaigning for the 1964 Election. You're both brought closer as time passes, and your life changes forever. As the 1964 Election continues and political tensions escalate, you come together. With the help of you, the Kennedys, and his charming wit and cleverness, Coriolanus Snow ends up with all he's ever wanted. However, the ever-growing Women's Revolution puts everything and everyone at risk. What Coriolanus doesn't know is that politics is all a game-

But there are worse games to play.

⊹ pairing: young!coriolanus snow / fem!reader ⊹ warnings: none. ⊹ word count: 269 (not including quote.) ⊹ author’s note: eeeee here's the prologue! I'm so excited to share this idea with you all. it was just a random fic idea I had and I didn't think it would snowball in my imagination the way it did, yet here we are lol. please be sure to check out the soundtrack and if you want to be tagged with every chapter, please fill out the form. I have both the soundtrack and taglist form below for you to click. much love!! ♡

౨ৎ divider credit: @cafekitsune

౨ৎ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ | sᴇʀɪᴇs sᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ | sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

౨ৎ this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

❝And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric, and everybody knew it. When he walked in, every woman's head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn't contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him, and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.❞ — Lana Del Rey, Spoken Monologue, National Anthem

“Go on, sweetheart,” Coriolanus mumbles, his lips tickling the shell of your ear, “Wave to the people. They love it, they love you.”

You stare at Coriolanus for a moment in absolute awe as he basks in the glow of attention from the crowd. At this moment, he’s electric and powerful. You couldn’t be more proud of him for it. The two of you are in a brightly colored motorcade, slowly cruising through downtown Boston in celebration. Your husband effortlessly smiles in glory, his eyes twinkling in unbridled emotion- a rare sight to see from him. Coriolanus has his moments, but not like this. His blue eyes are usually cold, distant, and emotionless unless looking directly at you. Despite the lack of obvious light, you can still see it. It’s one thing Coriolanus admires about you; that you can see past his demeanor. The last time you remember him looking so full of pride, though, was the day you married one another.

It’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that he succeeded at this- and you succeeded at this, too. Perhaps even harder to grasp that millions of people around the world now know your name and care about what you have to say. As Coriolanus said himself, the people love you. Sure, having the people on your side just as they are his matters to you. But at the end of the day, the only thing that matters for certain is if he truly loves you like he loves power. Sometimes you aren’t so sure. Sometimes, he looks at you, and you can’t see a thing.

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[buckleyx]

pls a fic about buck from 911 with reader who is v short (like 5'2) and he likes to cuddle on her chest lots of fluff thanks

CUDDLES AND KISSES

the gif i used is not mine! all credit goes to the owner! - This is such a pretty Gif <;33

Author’s note: Hello it is I. I'm back baby!! NEW EPISODES NEW ME YEAHH. Enjoy my friend as I feed you with this content.

I was really inspired by this request so thank you, thank you, thank you anon.

Evan buckley x gender!neutral reader

Warnings: FLOOFFF and cuddly Buck but also mentions of the coma he has in season 6

masterlist

"I'm cold." You whined, pulling the blanket closer to your chest. Buck smiled, stretching his arms before moving closer to you. The couch made a funny sound as he smoothly tried to scoot over. You giggled at the action which made him crack a smile of his own. The corners of his mouth curled up, the sound of your laughter sounding like heaven to his ears.

Since Buck's accident, he's been pretty much stuck at home. Not that you really minded, helping him recover was one of your top priorities now. You even took some time off of work. Just a couple weeks, just until he was feeling better you promised.

"Feeling better now?" He asked. You pretended to hesitate, nuzzling your face against his chest. "Yeahhhh, I'll be alright." You teased. Another chuckle escaped his lips, pressing a kiss to your head.

Oh, how he wished he could stay in this moment forever. He felt so at ease, so peaceful and safe when he was with you.

You thoughtlessly watched the tv show that was playing while you played with the soft cotton hem of his shirt. Twisting it around your fingers. Unconsciously Buck was doing the same thing but with your other hand. His finger caressing the palm of your hand.

You stayed like this for a couple of minutes before the silence was interrupted by soft yawn. Buck pushed his face to the side before blinking a few times. Evan would feel tired often, something the doctors warned him about after he woke up from the coma.

You noticed it in him too, after a few simple task he would already be feeling sleepy. He hated it. Especially during moments like these. Even after sleeping full hours he still would feel like he hasn't slept a wink. He just wants to be with you, do simple things again with you. But it takes time. Healing takes time.

"I'm I such bad company?" You teased, perking your head up to look at him, a smile plastered on your face. Evan laughed softly while caressing your cheek with his thumb. "You? Never!" He smiled but couldn't help but feel a slight quilt forming about ruining this beautiful moment.

You noticed the shift in his eyes and wanted to tell him for the millionth time that he doesn't have to apologize or feel bad about this. He needs to heal.

Before he could say anything you poked his side, tickling him to take his mind of it. "Hey!" He laughed loudly before tickling you back. You jumped up at his fingers tickling your skin. You playfully fought back, making your way from his chest to his torso. You carefully sat up and strangeld his torso. He rested his hands on your hips to help you sit up as you proceeded to tickle his stomach. A playfull "yelp" escaped his lips as he tried holding your hands, laughter filling the room.

After his failed attempts of winning you over he called for a truce. It fell quiet again as you both tried catching your breaths after all the giggles. Here and there a small giggle manged to escape again, making you both smile like children.

Buck sat up again, positioning your hips so you were sitting more comfortable on his lap. Your legs strangled his torso. His hands grabbed your cheecks. He played with your hair before peppering your face with small kisses. "I'm so lucky to have you." He whispered. You smiled, looking at his lips before giving him a kiss. His eyes fluttered shut, deepening the kiss at your approval.

"I love you." You whispered back after a few seconds. The buckley secured his arms against your back before swiftly switching positions. You were laying with your head against the couch, he gave you a loving smile and a kiss before resting his head against your tummy. He wrapped his arms against your upper body, nestling his nose against your skin just like you did before with him.

He felt so happy, so goddamm lucky to have you. How he wished he could capture moments like this forever. Dream in them away and stay with you forever.

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My requests are open! :)

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[otomiyaa]

The Kiss

Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

A/N: Somehow I saw this art and a few minutes later I wrote the whole outline for this fic. P.S. I wrote this on my phone so I hope it didn't turn into a disaster lol.

Summary: No plot, just kisses and tickles... (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.1K

A casual fling. Friends with benefits. Body research? Maybe a test? A calculated scheme? Or... Meaningless love?

No, no. He would never use the word love.

Aventurine thought about the many ways Dr. Ratio would potentially describe what they shared. The relationship between them that kind of involved the physical activities one wouldn't just share with anyone.

He continued to stare at Ratio, specifically at his lips. Yeah. From kissing to getting handsy to, at times, even getting naked and devouring each other... As he continued to find himself in these situations once in a while, he wondered what excuses Dr. Ratio would have ready for them.

Not once did he explain himself. It often just happened. And not a word about it was spoken afterwards, even when Aventurine would try to tease him about it. If he kissed him, Ratio would kiss him back. Heck, last time it was even Ratio himself who started it.

Aventurine couldn't help but smirk and tingle with confidence. Was he that irresistible to the usually cool and collected doctor?

"Gambler. Are you even paying attention to what I am saying?" Ratio asked in an irritated tone, inviting him back to the conversation. No, apparently he was not paying attention to the work-related matter at hand.

"No," he admitted, and he strode towards Ratio. Oh how he loved to be alone with him like this, to do freely as he pleased. He grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, almost resulting in a headbutt. But instead of hitting his head, he captured his lips in a well aimed open mouthed tongue kiss. Random, but so very good.

Ratio's startled reaction gave him the perfect chance to kiss him long and deep, and he couldn't help but let out a huffy chuckle mid-kiss when he noticed Ratio stumbling backwards. So with both hands on his hips, Aventurine shoved him until he was with his back against the wall.

Then slamming a hand next to his head to assert dominance, Aventurine kissed him some more, his body burning with lust, adrenaline and confidence. And Ratio? Wasn't even trying to push him back but kissed him just the same. Yeah, explain that, doctor.

Then, when they finally broke apart and Aventurine granted him a moment to breathe, he smirked at him and licked his lips.

"What's wrong doctor? Did I catch you off-guard?" he asked. He stood on his toes to get some more of that when all of a sudden he was slammed with his back against the same wall he was just pinning Ratio against. Doctor had effortlessly swapped their positions and was now looking like the predator.

"You are infuriating," was all he said before he used the same method as Aventurine; he practically shoved his tongue into his mouth and quite literally sucked the life out of him.

"Hmh..." Aventurine's arms moved up and hesitated. Wrapping his arms around his neck would be considered too romantic. His hands ended up landing on his shoulders and he squeezed them roughly, digging his fingers into them and pulling Ratio even tighter against him. Ratio's hands on his own body trailed down, making him jump and tingle under his touch. They managed to expose some bare skin and as soon as those fingers touched him there...

"Hngh!" Aventurine jumped when the touch was rather specific. And again, fingers brushing against his lower sides, so he quickly tried to break off the kiss to ask Ratio what the fuck was wrong with him. But Ratio wouldn't let him. Aventurine was stuck in his kiss, and those nasty fingers started to increase their demanding touches.

It fucking tickled. Like hell. Aventurine squirmed and shook, but when it went from casual soft brushing and scratching touches to simply digging and clawing at his poor defenseless torso, he realized this was no mere accident.

"Hmmmhh stahh-hmh!" Ratio only shoved his tongue deeper into his mouth, kissing him with... passion might be the wrong word, but there was definitely a lot of determination.

His fingers climbed up and wiggled between his ribs as if they were longing to pry his body open. Instead it tickled Aventurine until giggles were starting to spill out despite the exhausting kisses.

"Rahahatio! Hah- stohohop it mahahan!" He tried to squirm and struggle free, his hands pushing at Ratio' shoulders. Then when he moved them to shove at his chest, Ratio captured both his hands with ease and pinned them above his head.

"Quiet," he demanded before kissing him further, but the damn tickling returned too, worse than ever! How could he possibly be quiet?!

"Hmmmmmmfhh!" Aventurine was on fire. Helpless to the ticklish sensations that invaded his trapped body, starting at his armpit and traveling down his ribs and side, then back up again. He arched his back and struggled, moaned and let out muffled cries and giggles. None that convinced the doctor that this kiss of death and tickles was in fact killing him.

He felt even more helpless when Ratio released his arms again and it didn't change anything. He was only tickled with both hands, fiercer and more ticklish than he had experienced before. He shook on his legs and eventually fell down. The humiliation and disgrace were nothing compared to the tickle attack that followed. No more kissing, just Dr. Ratio and his ten cursed fingers that knew exactly where to get Aventurine to leave him cackling and squealing.

"Stahah-ahahahah nohoho! You're sohoho- wahhhahhah!"

"Speak full sentences," was Ratio's cold reply. His actions were anything but cold though. His wiggling and digging fingers left Aventurine burning. His throat was equally on fire from the amount of laughter it had to endure.

"I cahahan't breheheathe! Rahahatio!" Tears rolled down his warm cheeks. He curled up but was just as easily uncurled again, with one of Ratio's hands on his thigh, digging and squeezing him to not miss a single opportunity of tickling him. Ratio's other hand used its damned fingers to spider at his helpless tummy.

"Plehehehease Rahahatio what thehehe hehehell!" Aventurine laughed breathlessly. It felt as if Ratio would never stop. But then finally, when there was nothing Aventurine could do except moan and whine in a miserable heap on the floor, Ratio got back up.

"What's wrong, gambler? Did I catch you off-guard?" he asked, firing Aventurine's very own words right back at him.

"We'll continue our meeting next time," he added before leaving Aventurine just like that. Hot, tired and messy on the floor. Damn.

Geez. What a petty doctor. Why did he always have to be the better person? Aventurine wiped his burning lips and squirmed as the tingling sensation still dominated his body even now.

... "Just you wait, Ratio..." he mumbled to himself with a smirk. Looked like he needed to up his game next time...!

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 8 - Rest

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, talks about war and death, traveller uses they/them pronouns, the abyss attacking.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

To celebrate 5.2 being out, although it hurts to skip Chasca (I'm saving for Mavuika), I managed to snipe Ororon (and Yun Jin somehow...)

///

Maybe heading down to the contestants lounge to see Chasca before her match was a bad idea. The individual matches were important, but Chasca didn't have an ancient name, so the Night Wars were supposed to be out of the question for her.

"Chasca… please. Could you at least look at me, or are you that ashamed of your little sister that you can't?" Your voice was quiet, tapping your fingers on your arms as you crossed them, you didn't expect Chasca to gently cup your face with her hand. Holding you like you were made of glass she could shatter in a moment of lapsing control.

"I'm not ashamed of you. I was ashamed of my anger. I can usually reel it back in but if Chuychu hadn't calmed me down…I, you know, the Speaker's Chamber and… cause more harm than good. I swore I would always protect you."

"You say that but, my relationship has always been consensual-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to go into so much detail out in the open. Plus the grimace on Chasca's face said enough.

"My match is coming up. Can we talk after?" your eldest sister enquired, readjusting her hat as she glanced towards the doors.

"Of course. You know where to find me." You nodded, heading away to return to the stands, while your sister headed into the arena.

"Hey, you're back!" Paimon beamed at you, while the Traveller waved, offering you a hand to help you down to sit.

"Thank you… wow, Kachina's grown so much." You smiled, observing the individual fights carefully, and trying not to wince too much whenever Chasca took a hit. No matter how heavy or light it was.

Mualani against Kachina wasn't something you anticipated, but watching Kachina take her friend down was impressive. You could hear Mavuika clapping as the announcement was made.

"The winner is, from The Children of Echoes, Kachina! And with that, the winners of this Pilgrimmage have been decided. Put your hands together for our victors as we welcome them to the stage- With her sixth consecutive win, Chasca of the Flower-Feather clan!"

You bit your lip as you clapped, hearing your clan cheer your sister on, while you couldn't help but worry. Chasca had no ancient name, but she was going to participate in the Night Warden Wars anyway?

"Hey…" Chuychu whispered, having approached you during the announcements of the winners, while the Travelller and Paimon were distracted.

"Hey… I spoke to Chasca. She's not ashamed of me." You whispered back, freezing up as Chuychu wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into a hug.

"What made you think she'd be ashamed? She adores you more than me I swear- anyway, I'm more worried about our darling older sister crossing paths with you know who." Chuychu replied, annoying you by blowing a raspberry right next to your ear.

"Don't do that, it tickles!"

"Come on, let's get you some food! Everyone else will be busy, and Chasca knows the Night Warden Wars well-" the doctor tried to distract you.

"She doesn't have an ancient name, why is she even going…" you interjected with a worried pout, looking up to spot Mavuika watching the two of you, much to your embarrassment.

"Believe me, I tried arguing that with her years ago!" Chuychu replied, dragging you off as the Traveller and Paimon disappeared with Kinich, and a confused Mualani, who wondered why she hadn't seen you around much lately.

///

"My love? Are you here?" Mavuika called out as she entered her chambers, having been watching over the Night Warden Wars until her worries about you got the better of her. Despite wishing to speak to the Traveller and their floating companion, she had been unable to, the two had been wisked away by Mualani and headed off to the People of the Springs. No doubt they would return to the stadium when the group, including your sister, returned from war.

As much as she wanted to be there herself, relax in a hot spring with you, see Atea, she was not taking any risks. Not risking you, the baby, her people, Natlan. You were avoiding going back to the Flower-Feather Clan too. Part of your reasoning was due to not wanting to glide, and you were technically a wingless. You only flew with a glider from Mondstadt, a gift you'd received from an adventurer from there.

Turning towards the quiet shushing noise, the archon paused as she took in the scene. You were sat with your feet propped up, gently running your fingers through your sister's hair as she slept with her head in your lap. Completely unintentional, and she would probably get embarrassed about it later, but you didn't mind. Chuychu carried the stress of you, Chasca, and herself on her shoulders. Especially since the argument…

Carefully taking a seat next to you, Mavuika wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smiling as you pouted at her.

Neither of you had seen Chuychu's eyes flutter, watching the two of you for that moment, and the moment after, when you finally got your wish, and Mavuika kissed away your pout. Her eyes closed again before either of you saw, your older sister deciding to sleep until she heard a familiar sound of your stomach rumbling, right next to her ears.

"What a wake up call." Chuychu joked dryly, sitting up as you flustered, turning to hide in Mavuika's shoulder.

"How about we get some food?" Mavuika kept the peace, chuckling as you stared at her with wide eyes, "and not just chocolate and xocoatl."

"Ugh." You grumbled, pouting childishly while Chuychu and Mavuika exchanged knowing looks.

///

Lightning and thunder woke you up that night. Chuychu had gone home, but your bed was missing Mavuika. Rubbing your eyes, you walked barefoot out of Mavuika's chambers, heading towards the back room of the Speaker's Chamber, what was technically the archon's office.

"Mavuika?" you whispered, looking around the room that was lit up by the fire in the middle, your eyes lingering on all of the offerings and gifts your lover had received. You'd taken photos of them all, having a weird feeling that they had more use than just sitting on display.

"The Abyss attacked the People of the Springs tonight. They defended against the attack, but they almost lost people, including Atea in the process," Mavuika explained as you walked over to where she was sat at her desk. "You should be asleep."

"So should you." You folded your arms, allowing yourself to be guided to sit in Mavuika's lap after some shuffling.

Mavuika only hummed, your chin resting on her head as she pressed her face into your chest. Your arms rested on her shoulders, playing with her hair as your gaze lingered on the tapestry of a younger Mavuika with her family and the baby saurians.

"Rest as long as you need." You whispered, feeling your archon relax under your touch, her fingers running under your shirt to lay gently on your stomach.

/// Meanwhile...

"Oh, if any of you have the chance to meet the archon, could you give her this for me?" Atea enquired, removing her talisman and holding it out to Mualani and the Traveller, "I also need someone to pass something along to Chasca and Chuychu's younger sister. It's back at my place. Just tell her to open it in private."

"What is it-" Mualani went to ask, already knowing about Atea's talisman, but a package for you? That confused her.

"She'll understand when she opens it." Atea answered vaguely, leaving Mualani to only shrug. It seems like Atea was taking your secret with her to the grave…

[ellieluvr420]

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

synopsis: A guardian angel getting wrapped up with the human she was supposed to be protecting, a double-edged sword bound to hurt. The memory of you, your calming presence in a time where everything was hanging in the balance haunted her. All she craved was to see you again. She was addicted, obsessed. She needed you in every way but you only appeared in her mind, you were never part of reality. You were her saviour, the blood running through her veins, all she wanted was you, that was all she would ever want.

TW: 13.6k words (be warned), SUICIDAL IDEATIONS AND ATTEMPTS, SPEWING OF GUTS (vomiting), DEPRESSIVE EPISODES

I highly recommend listening to this when it comes up in the fic btw!

divider creds

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It was quiet, too quiet, like any sound that would’ve filled the almost-silence had been annihilated, there was nothing but white for miles in any direction, so pure and untouched it almost covered the sinister behind it. Her eyes fluttered open and the hazy figure above her came into view, the only interruption to the vast, white nothingness.  

“W-where am I?” She croaked to the smiling, almost-glowing figure above her. Her eyes blinking open only made you glow more, like with each breath she took dragging her closer to consciousness, it brightened the golden energy radiating off of you.  

“Shhh it’s okay, you’re going to be fine. Don’t panic, everything will be okay. You need to be more careful Abby.” Your voice was melodic, a pitch-perfect harmony to her ears that echoed around her, bouncing off of nothing and hitting her ears over and over again. She cracked her eyes open just enough to make out your face, your shining, radiant face littered with golden speckles that almost resembled freckles. There were golden streaks throughout your hair that sparkled in a light she couldn’t pinpoint the location of. Your skin was smooth, like feathers running over her skin as you cupped her cheeks. It was as if the pain that ached and ebbed throughout her entire body was being sucked away from her through your gentle touch, your hands gently glowing and warming on her cheeks. Your face was streaked with tears, golden, shiny, iridescent tears flowing down your cheeks, juxtaposing the beaming smile of your pearly teeth, peeking out from the plump softness of your lips. You were so inviting, so comforting, she didn’t even think to panic, she just wanted to stay here with you. 

“Who are you?” 

“That’s not important, you’re almost there.” Your words were cryptic, enchanting, she hung onto every word, paralysed by the awe of your beauty. “Don’t waste this gift, Abby.” The last thing she heard you say before you leant down and pressed your lips to hers, exactly as soft as she imagined. You breathed life into her, breathed pure energy into her tired muscles, she felt her organs buzzing to life again, felt her body warm and as her eyes flashed open she was greeted by wings sprouting from your back, wings almost the size of you delicately flittering in the air before coming down and cocooning you both in their safety. The soft, white feathers tickling at her skin, her nerve cells registering every little flick.  

Her eyes fluttered closed again, the sound of you humming slowly causing her to drift off into sleep, pictures of you swarming through her mind, your voice still softly ringing in her ears until everything went black and all went quiet once again. 

“She’s waking up! She’s waking up, get the doctor!” A shrill voice compared to yours, it stung her ears and boiled her blood. There were bright lights seeping in through her slowly opening eyes but not like the warm glow that you exuded, harsh, fluorescents banging at her skull. She groaned as the pain that you had sucked away from her came rushing back but worse than she had felt it before. 

“Hello Miss Anderson, you gave us quite a scare, there’s going to be a bright light just relax.” Latex covered fingers dragging her tired eyes open and shining streams of light into her eyes, she gasped and groaned and then the fingers disappeared, replaced by a cool circle on her chest. She felt like she had been abducted by aliens with the way she was being poked and prodded but all she could think about was the image of you, kneeled over her, your warm hands cupping her cheeks, the feathered appendages shrouding her and enclosing you both in. The gold littered all over your appearance. She thought it was a dream, but it felt too real, her cheeks were still warm from your touch when she pressed a hand to them, a bruised hand. The sight of her hand and arm littered with scrapes and cuts, an IV in one, purple and black splotches replacing the ivory tone of her skin. She had been riding her motorbike one second and the next she was with you, all she wanted was to be with you again, the quiet calmness of your aura. But now she was here, in a hospital, head pounding and body throbbing with not a memory of how she had ended up here. 

“What happened?” She croaked, her voice hoarse and raspy. 

“You were in a crash, been in a coma for a couple of days. You really scared us, for a minute we thought we had lost you.” 

“My- my bike.” She whispered to herself, a Harley Davidson gifted to her by her late father. 

“Just focus on getting better love.” The nurse soothed but her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, all of their voices were because they weren’t yours. Had you been with her after the crash? Maybe her memory of you was just a hallucination created by her traumatised head, maybe you had been a person that came to her when she crashed. But you had kissed her, she felt the life being breathed back into her, the wings, your hands, you couldn’t be human, you were too perfect to be human. “Don’t try to move okay, just relax.” The shrill voice sounded again, she hadn’t planned too, she just laid there, shut her eyes and tried to take herself back to you. 

She slept a lot for the first week, only waking slightly when the routine checks were done on her, the morphine kept her lulled and comfortable, but it wasn’t the comfort she felt with you, so it wasn’t right. She stayed unconscious for almost all hours of the day, sometimes she was lucky enough to be graced with dreams of you, but they were never as good as the first time, never as real as the first time. The white of the landscape was never as white, the warmth of your hands was never as warm and the kiss of your lips against hers was never as soul-stirring. Sometimes she’d dream of her dad gifting her the Harley, dreamt of his heartbroken face at the news of it being destroyed. She’d always wake with a sob, a choked cry that constricted her chest and made it hard to breathe over the lump in her throat. She had cried for hours one night, restless from being laid up in bed and the slowly decreasing levels of morphine in her system making it harder for her to sleep, so she just cried softly, letting the tears roll from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. She felt hopeless, completely lost until a soft hand grazed her cheek, a hand radiating so much warmth, a slight glow catching in the corner of her hazy vision. Her head whipped to the side to see you sat on the edge of her bed, cupping her cheek with one hand, the other holding onto her hand that was closest to you, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. She stared, wide-eyed and dazed as you smiled, the golden streaks of your hair and the speckles littering your nose and cheeks sparkled under the harsh beam of the hospital room lighting. 

“It’s- It’s you.” 

“Shh, I don’t have much time, I’m not supposed to be here.” 

“I don’t unders-” 

“Abby, I need you to fight. I know you can, you need to fight to get better or you won’t. I know it seems hopeless, I can hear your thoughts, but it will get better. You’ll get better but you can’t give up. Please don’t give up.” Your voice was soft but firm and still it rang out like a symphony, the more you held her, the less despair ran through her veins. She watched as your hands glowed and tingled against hers, you were doing it again, taking away all her pain and anguish. Tears slipped from her eyes, and you came to ease them away. “Don’t cry now, you’ll be okay, promise me you’ll fight.” She couldn’t deny you, she couldn’t even think to deny you, the only thought bouncing around her sore head was that she’d do it for you, because you had asked her to. You smiled, it was radiant and gleamed like a diamond under sunlight as you leant down and kissed her cheek, leaving a burning spot of heat in your lips’ trail. “I knew you’d understand.” Her thoughts raced around her head at that, you could hear what she was thinking, her cheeks reddened, and she hid from your gaze knowing you knew what she thought of you. “I think you’re perfect too.” You whispered in her ear, your breath tickling her skin and causing goose bumps to raise all over her. With a final firm squeeze of her hand you were gone, she blinked, and she was all alone again, your warmth replaced by a cold that sent a shiver down her spine. You were gone as quickly as you came just like before and it only left her needing more, she craved you, craved your sweet scent, your loving gaze, your consolatory gaze. You were an angel, figuratively and physically, the fluttering wings on your back that were so big she imagined they’d drag on the floor when you walked were a testament to that. 

She felt lighter after your visit, even in your absence, she felt less weighed down by the resurge of grief for her father running through her veins, less panicked about the future and what’s to come, resilience replacing the despair. 

She learned she was hit by a drunk driver, that he got off almost completely unscathed while she was trapped in a hospital bed barely able to sit up on her own. She had extensive internal bleeding, a fracture to her left wrist, three broken ribs and a hefty concussion, he had scrapes and bruises, it boiled her blood until a quiet voice in the back of her mind told her he’d get his comeuppance when he was sentenced in court. It quieted the screaming rage flowing through her, dulled it down to a simmer and silently she thanked you, somehow, she just knew it was you, the voice of reason, of support. The doctors had said she was lucky, that a crash of that magnitude, on a motorbike no less, could’ve killed her, but the more they said she was lucky, the less lucky she felt. She was restless and aching to feel the breeze brush her hair over her skin and tickle her nose, she missed sunlight, natural, warm sunlight, especially now it reminded her of you. When she looked in the mirror for the first time since the accident she was horrified, her skin was pale, green and brown remnants of bruises making her feel like she was mouldy. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken in and the darkness under her eyes spread down to the apples of her cheeks, craters that she felt like she could fall into. Her hair was matted and frizzy, the grease in it making her want to chop it all off, she looked frail and weak and the complete opposite of how she typically looked. She could already feel her muscles decaying away, it was obvious to her when she looked in the mirror. Tears sprouted in her eyes, a choked cry caught in her throat as she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth but as she stared and grew to despise herself more, she remembered your words. I think you’re perfect too. You thought she was perfect, even like this, a fraction of what she used to be, you thought she was perfect. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

When Abby was released from the hospital two weeks later, Manny coming to pick her up, she felt like she had been freed, she stood on the pavement just soaking in the sunlight, letting the breeze force goosebumps onto her skin, she would’ve walked home if it wasn’t for her injuries. Even in the car, she had her head out of the fully opened window like a dog, garnering strange looks that didn’t faze her in the slightest. She watched as people went about their daily lives, milling about, rushing to their destinations, she wondered if any of them realised how quickly life can be taken away, how in the blink of an eye what was once a life, a person, a soul could be shredded into nothing, a memory that would soon be forgotten in history. 

“You okay Abs?” Manny sounded concerned; she had never been this quiet before in the time he had known her. 

“I’m okay, just happy to be out of that prison.” He snorted at her words. 

“You would not survive a day in a real prison.” 

“I’d make prison my bitch.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“Whatever.” She sniped at his sarcastic remark with a small grin. She looked back out the window and her heart hammered in her chest as she thought she saw you standing on the pavement, smiling at her, a quick flash of pure light, she spun in her seat trying to see you again as they whizzed past and groaned at the sudden, foreign movement. 

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“Jeez sorry dad.” He huffed. “Just thought I saw someone.” She muttered almost to herself, Manny blissfully ignorant as he hummed along to the tune playing through the car's speakers, she leaned forward slowly and turned up the music, ‘Heaven’ by Depeche Mode spilling out into the car. She never really listened to the words of a song, mainly liking them for the tune or their beat but as she listened to the lyrics they struck her, resonated with her, settled in her soul and entwined themselves with every part of you, making a home and laying in her to never be forgotten. 

Take comfort in my skin 

Endlessly 

Surrender to my will 

Forever and ever 

She didn’t hear the male voices singing the song, she heard yours, as if you were serenading her. She could picture you, hovering over her, cupping her cheeks and singing to her, the only people in the world were you and her, you had her entranced, trapped in her mind as she surrendered herself to you and all your virtue. 

I dissolve in trust 

I will sing with joy 

I will end up dust 

I’m in heaven 

Now she was singing back to you, a conversation in melodies, devoting herself to you, declaring her undying love and trust to you. The golden specks that dusted your face glistened and seemed to glow brighter, as did the streaks in your hair as your wings enclosed you both, you leaned in, hanging onto her every word, glowing brighter with each one. 

I stand in golden rays 

Radiantly 

I burn a fire of love 

Over and over 

You joined in, a siren song, hypnotising her, the words meant something different to each of you. Abby bathed in your light, igniting her love for you. You, the light, the sun, smiling as you sang about yourself though your face changed when you began the third line, golden tears shimmering over your cheeks. She didn’t understand why you were sad, but she couldn’t bare it, even the way you cried was beautiful, but it still struck her that you were sad. Why did her love make you sad? Was it her love you were singing about?  

Reflecting endless light 

Relentlessly

I have embraced the flame

Forever and ever 

You were quiet now, covering the sadness in your expression with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. She was almost begging you to just sing with her, she just wanted to hear your voice. But you didn’t, you just gazed at her, she needed you to beam that addictive smile as she chanted how she would be yours forever, but it never came, you only cried more, flaxen tears falling onto her face, the shimmering catching in her eyeline. You pursed your lips, and let the tears fall, gently rubbing them into Abby’s cheeks with your thumbs, letting your tears rejuvenate her pale skin and give it a faint shimmer. 

I will scream the word 

Jump into the void 

I will guide the world 

Up to heaven 

Abby’s words had you shaking your head subtly, but enough that her eyebrows furrowed, confusion and fear written all over her face until your hands started to glow. You never let her feel a despondent emotion, always baring the weight of them so she would feel lighter. Her eyes fluttered shut, every muscle in her body relaxed, even when she felt the silky press of your lips against hers, there was no shock, just pure light rushing through her, her hand coming to cup your cheek and swipe at the tears dampening it. Her bottom lip nestled between yours as she gently sucked, colliding over and over again, her hand that was on your cheek coming to gentle brush over the feathers that grew from your back, they twitched under her hand, each one raising to lean into her delicate touch, a small gasp being swallowed by Abby’s lips before you pull away and retract your wings from her touch. You looked culpable as you avoided her starstruck gaze, swallowing a weep despite the tears still flowing down your cheeks. 

“What’s wrong-” She tried to ask you, but you weren’t there anymore, she was back in the car driving through Seattle with Manny on her way home. She was clutching at the feeling, the memory but it was slipping through her fingers with every second, confined to only her mind once again as she failed to will herself back to you. 

“Hey, Abby, where’d you go?” Manny’s voice sounds like a screech in her ears and she winced. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve been tryna get your attention and you were just zoned the fuck out. You sure you didn’t fuck up your head?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” She forced a laugh, but it felt so foreign as she was haunted by the sorrow on your face. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It had been three months since Abby’s accident and despite her body slowly recovering, her mental health was dwindling. She hadn’t seen you since the car ride home from the hospital and it was killing her. She dreamt of you every night, but the dreams were never the same as her conscious encounters with you, the dreams were hazy and blurred, your face never fully coming into focus, the glow emanating from you never quite right.  

Abby was walking through the streets of Seattle, a slight drizzle pattering down onto her, she found herself going on walks more and more often, she was on edge not being able to train or work, every day she bared to look in the mirror she swore she was seeing her muscles slowly dissipate, she was shrinking before her very eyes and it scared her, all her hard work over the years being washed away in a matter of months, so she’d walk for as long as she could before her body ached and her lungs burned. Her earphones were blasting ‘Heaven’ on repeat at full volume as they had been ever since the first time she heard it, she prayed it would bring you back to her, but it never did. You had abandoned her and she was spiralling. She walked, her face angled towards the ground, until she noticed the pavement had been closed off ahead of her. She huffed and turned towards the road and as she went to step out, she felt a hand on her arm yanking her back. The second she looked up a large lorry rushed past her, fast enough she would have been flattened in an instant had she taken that step, her heart jumped and when she turned to face the person that had saved her from impending doom, she was greeted by your unimpressed face. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to look both ways before you cross the road?” Her music was still thumping in her ears but she heard you perfectly, your voice cutting through all the background noise. She was awestruck as she stared back at you, she thought you’d never appear before her again, but you were standing right beside her, blurring the bustling city that raged on around you both. “You’re quite a handful you know.” Her cheeks heated under your pointed gaze as she willed her eyes away from you and to the ground. 

“Sorry.” She was ashamed, she had almost forsaken the gift you had given her, the one you specifically said not to waste and she almost squandered it because she was too busy being frustrated at road works and frustrated at you for wrapping her round your pinkie and then disappearing. 

“You’re lucky I like you.” She spared a glance at your face only to see the pearly white smile she had missed, that she had craved to see. “Your song was beautiful. You have a lovely voice.” She hadn’t noticed you sweeping closer to her until your breath hit her ear as you whispered into it before pulling away again to giggle at her stunned expression. 

“That was real?” She breathed out, it felt real, so real, when she had got home that day she noticed a faint shimmer to her skin but she needed to hear it from you regardless. 

“Well as real as it can be. I was there if that’s what you mean.” 

“Are you there in my dreams?” 

“Do you think I am?” Your question gave her the answer she already knew despite praying she was wrong. 

“I don’t understand. Why are my dreams different?” 

“I don’t control your dreams, they’re a product of your mind. There’s no need for me to be in your dreams so I’m not.” That look flashed over your face again, the same look she had seen when you pulled away from kissing her, guilt. She looked around to see if anyone was marvelling at you but no one was, no one batted an eye, so you weren’t really here, you weren’t in reality. If you were the wings that brushed against the pavement would have anyone stopping in their tracks, so only she could see you, part of her revelled in that fact, that you were hers and only hers, but it only reminded her more that you weren’t real, weren’t human.  

“Why did you show up in the car?” 

“I shouldn’t have.” You winced at the memory, the heartache that reverberated through you, it was an unfamiliar feeling, one that swallowed you, drowned you in its embrace. You barely glowed that week, the gold in your hair and splatter across your face was dull and lifeless. Your hands were colder than you ever remembered them being and your wings lost more feathers than you could count, you deteriorated as Abby grew stronger but to Abby you were as radiant as you had ever been. “I can’t stay, I’ve already been here too long. Stop wasting my gift.” 

“Wait, please-” Abby pleaded for you to stay, to make sense of all this for her but you couldn’t, you needed to lay down, you were tired and hearing her thoughts was only worsening your condition. With a blink of her eyes, you were gone and the music in her earphones was suddenly full volume again, her surroundings coming into focus, the constant stream of cars, horns echoing in the distance, the tall buildings that felt like they were caging her in, making her feel claustrophobic and short for breath, people pushing past her and mumbling about the weather, the rain had turned from a. drizzle to a downpour and she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed her clothes clinging to her body as they became heavier with each droplet absorbing into them. She balled up her fists and shoved them into her pockets while storming home. She was tired, she just wanted to sleep, to see you again, even if it wasn’t really you. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby was lying on the ground, the concrete scratching her back, every inch of her throbbing, there were sirens and so many overlapping voices she could barely make out what was going on. She was utterly disoriented, and panic rose within her as she realised the familiarity of the scene, she looked to her side and saw her bike, completely savaged laying on the road in pieces, then a light caught the corner of her eye and she turned to face it with a smile. Your face greeting her, smiling shyly though there was something manic in your nature, the glow around you pulsing. 

“You’re here.” She whispered as a singular tear slipped from her right eye.  

“I’m here.” Your hands cupped her cheeks like they often did and you brushed your nose against hers. You had guarded so many humans in the eternity of your being but there was no one like her, nothing like her, she made you take risks that you knew could lead to your condemnation, just so you could see her, feel her, the light inside you entwining with her soul.  

“But I’m dreaming.” 

“I know but I missed you.” 

“You missed me?” 

“I always do.” 

“Why?” 

“You’re special.” Your voice rang out, a melody perfectly tuned for her ears. Your words sweeter than honey dripping off your lips, it made her crave your lips against hers again, the sweetness, the silky pillows that consumed her every thought. You beamed, her thoughts clear as day in your mind, each one more satisfying to the next, she was a risk, a threat to your existence but she was entirely too good to give up. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, absolving her of the pain she felt the first time, light rushing through her until she opened her eyes and saw the same glow that emanated from you, encompassing her body. You pulled away to observe what she had seen, your eyes widening, the sparkly white of your sclera shimmering in the city lights. You had no words, you had made her glow like you did and it stunned you. “I- I have to go soon.” You squeaked as the glow around her dulled slightly. 

“Why?” 

“You’re going to wake up soon, it’s not safe.” 

“W-what do you mean?” 

“They’ll know I’m here if you wake up.” 

“Who’s they?” 

“Never mind that, stay inside tomorrow, there’s going to be a storm.” 

“H-” You hushed her before you could speak by pressing your lips to hers again, you were insatiable, never able to get enough of her, but never able to take too much, it was torture, a strange feeling blooming inside you that you had never experienced, you could never describe it, it just was, it festered inside you growing worse with every encounter you had with her, desperate for more, desperate for your undoing. Abby melted into you, hands coming around your waist to brush against the feathered appendages that were twitching and fluttering. Her gentle strokes over them only coaxing them closer to her touch, that same breathy whimper left your lips, floating into hers at her touch before you craned your neck inwards, your forehead pressing against her lips that puckered and painted the skin with flaxen prints in the shape of her lips, your skin her canvas and her lips the brush, her fingers came to graze against the skin between the wings, tracing the indent between them eliciting a squeak before you bolted upright, ripping away from her touch. You swiftly rushed a hand over her eyes, and she was trapped into slumber, dragged away from you until her eyes fluttered open and her bedroom came into focus once again. She sat up, noticing the faintest luminescence of her skin and the burning heat pooling in her cheeks. She pressed tentative fingers to her lips and smiled softly, you smiled too as you watched, listening to her thoughts.  

I miss you. Please come back. 

Her last sentence saddened you, she had no idea the risk you had taken to see her when she sang to you, you had to be more careful, you had to show restrain though it pained you. You had never felt pain before her, but even the pain you felt for her, it was still overshadowed by the ecstasy that cascaded through you in her presence. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby sat on her sofa reading ‘Oranges are not the only fruit’ by Jeanette Winterson, she had started reading it before her accident but hadn’t the energy or focus to pick it up since, her dream that you had visited her in was the sole catalyst for her return to it, suddenly feeling compelled to lose herself in the story. She only thought of you while reading, the sorrow in your features that day, your cryptic messages speaking of emotions long forbidden, how you kissed her like every kiss would be the last. Faint patters sounded against her window, starting softly, until they were repeatedly hammering against the glass, begging for entry, a storm, as you had said, a storm that made it hard to see in front of you from the torrential downpour and flurrying mist whipping up from the ground, the clouds closing in on the city, creeping further and further down as they blackened. It was five o’clock, it was always around this time when Abby would get restless, would spiral into a downfall of grief and panic, the uncertainty of her future, her lack of control on her life dawning on her, this was always when she’d leave the house in a hurry, desperate to escape the confines of her home that suffocated her, but she hadn’t today because of your warning, your captivating voice sounding in her head on repeat. It only made her crave you more, desperate to feel your touch, gaze upon your angelic face, taste the sweetness of your lips, she was tormented by her memories of you and her lack of control over when you came, though something clicked into place, you came to her the first time to breathe life back into her after her accident, you saved her from the lorry, you guarded her from danger, protected her and nursed her back to health, you were her saviour, she needed to be saved to see you. 

No Abby. 

Your voice, in her head, pleading softly, wrestling with the bellowing voices telling her to walk outside into the storm. She ignored you, she was determined, she slammed the book down and walked to her front door, slipping on her trainers but forgoing a coat, her hand reached for the doorknob as yours appeared, clamping over hers and dragging it away, interlacing your fingers with hers and tempting her back to the warm, safety of her living room. No matter how many times she drank in your features, the shock of your allure always silenced her, even the crease between your eyebrows as you frowned at her was entrancing, every golden speckle scintillating in its own rhythm, each feather quivering independently, your features had a mind of their own, each one alive as the next. Your hair swayed as if there was a gentle breeze as you led her back to her sofa. 

“Why would you do that Abby?” 

“I had to see you.” I needed you. Her thoughts weren’t as jumbled as they often were, the background chatter stifled to a gentle hum, you wished it wasn’t this way, that they were screaming and crashing over one another like waves in a turbulent tide but when you needed to not hear her sweet, painful thoughts, they were clear as day, titillating and tempting in the worst way. 

“You can’t do that, you can’t just conjure me up.” 

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” 

“You’re not being fair, I- We can’t do this, it’s forbidden, you can’t put yourself in danger to bring me to you, they’ll find out eventually, you need to stop Abby.” 

I don’t understand. 

“I know you don’t but you’re playing with forces that you cannot begin to perceive. Please just- you need to stop.” A glimmering tear fell from your left eye as both of your hands wrapped around the one you had been holding and delicately squeezed, the heat radiating from them causing her to look down and see the glow building between your soft flesh and hers. 

“Stop doing that!” She snatched her hand away as more tears built to a crescendo and streamed down your cheeks. “Y-you never let me feel the bad things, maybe if you did, I wouldn’t need you so much.” She snapped. 

“I-it's what I’m supposed to do.” You didn’t look at her, only your glowing palms that were dulling by the second, your voice meek and strangled.  

“And you’re supposed to come into my dreams and kiss me, sing to me, let me touch you?” 

“I shouldn’t have.” You said it so bluntly, it tore through her, caused her more pain than she had felt after her accident, and she knew you felt it too by the way you instinctively reached out for her. Her step away from you causing you to retract more as you silently wept. How could someone make crying such a beautiful action, mesmerising in its own cruel way. You were right, it wasn’t fair, to be faced with such radiant heavenliness and not be able to have it, it made her angry, the rage boiling up inside of her, making her skin tingle as her nostrils flared. 

Go. Her eyes clamped shut as she turned her face to the floor and when they cracked open, she was alone, the hammering of the rain the only sound in the room. She had quietly hoped you’d stay but her blaring begs for you to leave overshadowed that small glimmer of hope and you were gone without a trace, the dull, lifeless room seizing her breath from her lungs and drowning her in the darkness she succumbed to when you weren’t there. 

She yanked the book off her coffee table and hurled it at the wall, a guttural cry escaping her lips as hot, salty tears raced from her eyes. She groaned at the pain in her abdomen as she collapsed to the ground onto her knees, nose brushing against the floor, she wished she had never seen you, never felt your touch, that she had died in that accident because anything would have been better than the agonising torment she felt in this moment, she prayed for the sky to collapse on her, crush her under its thumb into dust, disintegrate her soul into nothing if it meant she never had to feel again. She stayed on the floor all night, curling into herself and passing into slumber that only tormented her still. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

You were so close to her yet so far, just out of arms reach though she could never catch you no matter how she chased. She stumbled and tripped but she never stopped pursuing you. You didn’t run, you weren’t frantic like she was, you sauntered and swayed away from her, your twitching wings dragging behind you leaving a trail of feathers in your wake, more and more detaching and floating to the ground the further you walked until there were no feathers left, only the bare bones of your wings, they curled round you and you stopped, Abby’s feet being glued to the ground despite her futile efforts to free herself and close the distance.  

You let out a bloodcurdling cry, the depths of despair heralding from within you. It couldn’t be described as a cry, you were wailing and shrieking at the sight of your naked wings, your whole body trembling and draining of its iridescent shimmer until it was a pale grey. The sand under Abby’s feet grew cold, froze under her sending excruciatingly bitter chills through her body, her teeth chattered as her body shivered. Her limbs slowly growing numb as a swarming storm gathered above her head and unleashed its wrath upon the beach she found herself on. The waves that were once calmly lapping at the shore lashed at her legs, icy assaults on her that were unwavering and only increasing in their power, she could barely stand against the force of them, fighting to stay upright until she was knocked into the sand that stuck to every inch of skin it found. She called out to you as the water engulfed her, choking her with its fury, her calls to you deafened by the indignation of the landscape. 

“DON’T YOU SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE?” You howled at her, finally facing her and displaying the gushes of thick, red pooling from your eyes and dripping down your neck, painting your figure crimson. You bawled as you collapsed onto your knees and lifted your face to the sky. Your scream thundered, echoed into nothingness as lighting struck down all around you both. Abby coughing and spluttering as the water invaded her lungs and froze her from the inside out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She called between torturous breaths, but her apologies fell on deaf ears, the claret pouring from your eyes harder. The last thing Abby saw was your decaying body stained with blood, your ruined wings curling around yourself as you begged for redemption, your face blurred and distorted before the water pulled her under, her consciousness being ripped away from you and sending her tumbling into the darkness of the never-ending ocean. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby woke with a gasp, clutching at her throat as she desperately tried to force air into her lungs, her body burning from the memories of her dream, the pictures still playing on her mind in a loop. The rain hadn’t cleared, it had only worsened, relentlessly pounding against her window with a might. She groaned and stretched her aching body before standing and rushing to the shower, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind, her skin cold to the touch, she turned the dial to the hottest it would go and waited the interminable minutes for steam to waft into the compact room so she could force herself under the burning waterfall and draw the warmth back to her skin. She let the shower muffle her sobs as she fought the nausea squeezing at her insides until it became too much, and she leaped towards the toilet to violently empty her guts into the bowl. Each hurl racking her body more, her throat stung and clenched causing her to gasp for breaths as tears flowed freely from her eyes. Her head throbbed and her vision was pulsating as she slammed herself against the wall pressing her face into her hands. Every feeling, every emotion, every sound and sight felt so real, she couldn’t shake the pounding of her heart, it was punishment, her punishment for banishing you so harshly that now when she needed you the most you were nowhere to be found, she strained to hear your comforting voice in her head but there was nothing, only your deafening wails. 

Please come back. I need you, I’m sorry. Please come back. 

You didn’t, you stayed hidden from her, hiding in plain sight, observing with matching tears, your hands itched to reach for her but you couldn’t, you kept them wrapped around you tightly, embracing yourself to keep from embracing her, the glow emanating from you barely a shimmer. 

₊.˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It had been three days since Abby had seen you, since she had viciously lashed out at you, every time she pictured it, your downturned face barely hiding the scintillating tears, each time she recalled it she only imagined herself as more and more cruel. Manny picked her up to take her to physiotherapy and failed to hide his shock at her dishevelled state, looking her up and down with wide eyes filled with concern, she noticed a flash of pity though he was better at hiding that. 

He kept sneaking glances at her in the car as she remained quiet and still, never looking away from the window where rain continued to pour as it had for the past three days, tumultuous reminders of that day and the hell that followed her into her dreams. She had had the same nightmare every night, stuck in an endless loop that sent her straight to the bathroom to throw up until her head felt like it would explode. She barely ate anymore knowing it would all come straight back up in the morning, she was deteriorating, and you watched, you always watched.  

The opening notes of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ by Joy Division played, the upbeat tune a sardonic juxtaposition to the words that she found herself relating to in a way that made her so ashamed she wanted to shrivel into nothing. She bit at her cheek and willed the tears to stay in her eyes until the song finally ended after a harrowing three minutes and twenty-six seconds, breathing a sigh of relief as the song faded to quiet. Her muscles relaxed until the opening notes of ‘Heaven’ by Depeche Mode started playing and she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“Hm that’s weird.” Manny’s voice broke through the ringing in Abby’s ears. 

“What?” She questioned, snapping almost. 

“This song isn’t on this playlist.” Her throat closed and her vision blurred, her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white, her lip bitten into so hard she tasted the iron of her blood. She focused on the road ahead, pleading her vision to refocus. The second it did though, she clamped her eyes shut again as she noticed a golden, glimmering hue to the rain, reflecting the minimal light the way your tears did, the sound of your sobs deafening her. She lunged forward and pressed the skip button as the familiar tune only acted as a backdrop to your wails, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. Manny shot her a look at her odd behaviour that made her feel like she was under a microscope. 

“I hate that song.” 

“Damn, it’s so good, you’ve got bad taste.” He quipped with a snort. 

“It’s depressing.” Her voice was gruff and strained, she barely sounded like herself, she just needed you to make everything feel okay again, but you were only sending her reminders that you wouldn’t do that, you couldn’t. 

Please come back. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It was the same every day, wake up with a choked sob, a gut-wrenching despair and panic nesting within her, throw up until she felt like she had purged the memories of her sleep, though they never really went, wallow in her pit of sorrow until the sun went down and sleep would take her again, sometimes she’d force food down her throat when her stomach cramped and she could barely stand without dizzying, the never-ending downpour barely noticeable anymore. Manny called to check in on her, so did Nora but their calls went unanswered as she degenerated into a state of depression that was so deep, she no longer saw an escape, the darkness closing in on her without your light to guide her through. She had been like this when her father passed away but now she realised you were guiding her out of it, slowly baring the weight of her grief, now she was all alone, left to fend for herself against an enemy she cannot fight. 

She sat at her breakfast bar pushing around some food with her fork, failing to force herself to eat. It felt like too much effort, everything felt like too much effort, breathing was too hard, sometimes having to remind herself to, sometimes choosing to hold it until her vision blackened around the edges and she felt lightheaded, her body throbbing. 

You need to eat, Abby. 

Your voice, your perfect but melancholy voice echoing through her head. A tear sprung from her right eye before more fell until there was a waterfall streaming down her cheeks, pure, unfiltered relief washing over her that you had you had come back, even if it was to scold her, it was something. Anything was better than the radio-silence she had been subjected to for the past week. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry.” She whispered, her voice cracking and nasally. She waited for a response, her food went cold waiting, the clock on her kitchen wall counted three hours that she had waited, frozen, for you to say something before she dragged herself back to her room, the small amount of food she had pushed down in the hopes it would bring you back, irritating her stomach and aching inside of her.  

She laid in bed, sleep never taking over her body, still wide awake at three in the morning. The repetitive ticking of her clock driving her further into insanity until she sat up, she felt like she was watching herself from outside of her body as she floated from her bed to the front door of her home, slipping on her trainers and exiting the deafeningly quiet home into the unforgiving storm that had raged for a week without relent. 

She watched herself walk and walk, all the way to Discovery Park on Puget Sound, where she stood at the edge of a cliff as the sun began peaking over the horizon casting everything in a warm, orange hue. The front of her trainers hung over the edge of the cliff, the vertigo-inducing height spiking her heart rate. Heights had always been her main weakness, sending her into a panic attack that had her heart palpitating, but the fear was quelled to a mild discomfort, her only thoughts you and the possibility of her seeing you again. The wind whistled past her ears as her drenched clothes clung to her diminished body. The view was other-worldly, the rain, glowing in the sunlight that barely passed through the dense, almost black clouds, she admired it, took in the view for the last time before she took a step. 

Before she could topple over the edge, a pair of hands wrapped around her torso and yanked her back, landing on top of someone with a force that knocked the wind out of her. 

“What the fuck-” She cursed as she squirmed in their grip to turn, immediately falling quiet at your resentful face glaring back at her. “You’re here.” 

“Of course I’m here-” You were cut off by her lips pressing against yours with a fervour, igniting a fire in her that had long since been extinguished to ash.  

“I’m so sorry, please take it away, please I’m begging you.” She whispered onto your lips, but your hands were already on her cheeks, glowing brighter than they ever had, like there was fire in your palms, embers of flaxen glittering on your skin that was radiating more with each passing second.  

“Thank you.” She breathed out as a single tear fell from her right eye. You didn’t speak, too focused on unburdening her from the darkness that had loomed within her, so she leant forward and kissed you once more, a tender press of her chapped lips against your silky ones that took the last of her sorrow away. “I- Can you lay with me?” She noticed the hesitation painted over your features, panic rising in her. “Just for a little while.” You flashed a tight-lipped smile before nodding curtly, allowing Abby the comfort of resting her head on your chest and sighing as your arms and wings alike wrap round her, cradling her. She listened for your heartbeat, something that had always soothed her when she’d hug her father but there was nothing, dead-silence within until you giggled, the sound louder than thunder.  

“I’m not human Abby, I don’t have a heart.” 

“So what are you then?” You were physically holding onto her, you had physically dragged her back from the ledge, but you didn’t seem to have a body. 

“Pixie magic and fairy dust.” You replied monotonously, a snort erupting from Abby at your sarcasm, it shocked her to hear it, you seemed too pure for sarcasm, it sounded strange coming from your lips. “I learnt it from you.” You answered her thoughts, the sentiment making her beam. 

“Of course you did, but seriously?” She prompted you to give an honest answer to her question, desperate to understand more about you. 

“I’m an amalgamation of light.” 

“That makes sense.” She muttered eliciting a chuckle from you.  

I’ve never met anyone that comes close to your beauty. 

“So do you do what you do for me with other people?” 

“No, you’re my only one. I’ve had other people since I’ve been around since the creation of light, but you only ever guard one at a time. You humans are a handful. Especially you.” Your feathers fluttered against her skin, knowing she was your only person filled her with joy, your feathers responding to that surge.  

“Did you play Heaven in Manny’s car the other day?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the rain?” 

“That was me too.” Your voice had a sadness to it at admitting your part in the rain, if only she knew all the tears you had shed, although part of you knew she did. 

I missed you. 

I missed you too. 

With that, Abby sunk into a slumber that her body desperately needed, sinking into you and the warm embrace you enveloped her in, your wings acting as a blanket as the clouds cleared and the rain slowed to a drizzle until it stopped altogether allowing the sun’s bright glow to cast over the cliffside, illuminating the scenery to its full vibrancy. Nature springing to life and thriving as birds sang and a gentle breeze whistled through the long blades of grass you were situated on, resting both your weary bodies, your souls entwining and patching one another’s up. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Your hand enclosed in hers, sand stretching for miles and enveloping her feet with every step you both took, warm, golden sand that mingles with the crystalline waves at the shore. The beach, but different, calm. She looked behind her to only see one set of footprints, hers but there was no trail of feathers following yours, your wings were plump and teeming with life as they twitched and quivered. You left no trail, weightless. It made her panic that you weren’t actually there and her hand that was wrapped in yours glowed, beamed with heat. She was entranced, just as much as the first time you did it until your free hand came to cup her cheek and pull her face up to meet yours. 

Your incandescent face that was explicit, every flaxen speckle, every lustrous strand of hair in complete clarity, the softness of your lips obvious just from looking at them. 

“I wanted to show you the beach how it’s supposed to be, I thought it might help your nightmares.” Your dulcet voice echoes, hits her ears over and over again. Your eyelashes that had sprouted golden spikes entangled with the others, fluffy and flittering as you beamed at her, the bright, blazing sun reflecting off of you and sending refracted light scattering around you both the way a disco ball would. 

“It’s so beautiful, you’re so beautiful. I was so w-” 

“Shh it’s okay, it wasn’t real, you know that, it wasn’t me there, it never has been. Your subconscious is a mean place, torturing you with things it knew would hurt. But I’m here now and isn’t it breathtaking?” You gestured to the serene landscape around you and she smiled in awe as she nodded. The sky was a pallet of pinks, oranges and purples. Clemetine stretching across the expanse to be occasionally laced with lavender etching itself into the sky with cherry blossom intertwining. Clouds that resembled candy floss few and far between. The breeze was warm, pressing ticklish kisses to Abby’s nose, caressing her face and running its fingers through her hair. The water that lapped at their feet completely translucent, the foam accumulating from the gush of waves the only colour that wasn’t. The water was cool but in a way that provides respite from the heat enveloping itself around you both. “Do you want to go in?” Your voice drew her out of her spell that the beach had casted to nod apprehensively at you, haunted by the memories of her previous encounters with the water. You released her hand to walk into the water, the creamy white gown that always cloaked your body dropping to your feet and laying abandoned as you saunter to the sea. Your form hidden by the cover of your wings.  

Abby rushed to the button on her jeans but when she looked down she was already bare, exposed to your eyes that flashed over your shoulder with a small wink full of mischief. She followed after you, desperate to feel your skin on hers again but when your wings flapped, each feather rippling in sync before the wings rose to the sky, unfolding like delicate gossamer, your feathers catching the light as they stretch toward the heavens revealing the silky smoothness of the sparkling skin that encases the curve of your back, the plump roundness of your behind, sculpted by the heavens themselves. Your leg stretched and crossed over one another as you swayed to the water until it concealed you from the waist down where you turned back to her, beckoning her in with you with a wave of your hand. 

She rushed towards you until she was stood inches away from your naked form, both drinking each other in, every curve, every line, every crease. Abby’s cheeks heated at the gesture until you slipped your hand in hers and walked her further in until she could no longer touch the floor of the ocean. You wrapped your legs around her waist and she felt entirely weightless, your wings that were held high above the water and flapping gently in the wind letting her float effortlessly.  

Her hands brushed up and down the expanse of your back, tracing every inch, committing it to her memory until they landed on your waist running up the smooth skin of your stomach, stopping just under the supple flesh of your bosom. You gently guided her hand upwards to palm them, nodded at her to say it was okay and gasping at the subtle squeeze of her fingers moulding the soft flesh like clay. Her thumbs dragged over your perky nipples and sent shockwaves through you, your wings mimicking the excitement evident in your features, the quiet huffs that escaped your perfect lips drawing her in to press against them. The kiss was heavy with need, your lips parting to let her tongue collide with yours, to savour the saccharine honey that invited her in more. Your chest arched into her touch, pushing closer together as a hand came to your back, right between where your wings grew to push you in closer to her. It was tender, unexplored territory being tread lightly, your bodies floating on the same rhythm, each lap of your tongues painting a song made only for your ears. Your hands found purchase round her neck and brushed through her braid until her hair was freed for you to weave your fingers through and scratch at her scalp. Her lips left yours to litter your neck with kisses to your collarbones. Golden prints of her kisses etching themselves into your skin. 

You hummed, the vibrations rippling the water and flowing through Abby causing a shiver to run down her spine. “Come here we don’t have long.” Your voice guiding her back to your lips, relishing in their warmth. 

“I never wanna leave. Can’t we just stay here?” She whispered already knowing the answer. 

“I wish it were that easy. You make me feel something I’ve never felt before, so many things. Thank you, Abby. You’ve shown me what it feels like to truly exist.” Your captivating voice murmured before pressing her cheek to your chest and smoothing down her hair, subduing her to silence as her breaths became deep and rhythmic. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

The sun poured into Abby’s bedroom, beckoning her eyes to flutter open, a smile plastered onto her face as she revelled in the comfort of her sheets. She didn’t remember getting home, falling asleep on the cliffside and finding herself back in the safety of her home that was brighter than it had been in the days prior. It was the first time she hadn’t woken up sick to her stomach in fits of hysterics. She pressed two fingers to her lips before licking at them slightly, your saccharine taste still lingering. Her hair was flowing freely over her pillows, and it shimmered slightly in the sun.  

She stretched within the comfort of her bed before walking to her kitchen to make some breakfast, the emptiness in her stomach twisting slightly and causing rumbles to echo around her quiet home.  

The sound of bacon cracking and sizzling interrupted the quiet, the smell wafting through the house and intensifying the rumbling of her stomach. She scrambled eggs and roasted some tomatoes util everything was ready for her to inhale, this meal being the first she had eaten to completion in a week.  

She hummed with contentment as the aching in her stomach subdued and the tremoring of her body that had become natural to her subsided. She brushed a hand through her hair and noted the almost-crunchy waves lacing through it, she wanted to leave it, as a reminder but it felt knotted from her sleep and dried as saltwater had always made her hair feel so she took to the shower to restore it to its silky condition. As she waited for the water to heat, she messaged back Nora and Manny, each message full of apologies for her disappearance and assuring them that she was okay before she clicked on ‘Heaven’ on apple music and jumped into the warm embrace of the shower. 

Memories of when she had sung to you interlaced with memories of the beach, every picture of your face deepening the smile lines around her lips. She could still feel your touch all over her like you had burned your fingerprints into her, she wished her skin showed your touch the way yours did, the outlines of her lips pressed into your skin, gold remnants shimmering under the sun. You were light, pure light and you exuded it in every sense of the word. She rubbed shampoo through her scalp until the salt was gone leaving only delicate, downy locks splaying over the expanse of her back. She treated the ends with conditioner and wove them into a bun at the base of her head while she rubbed her pine and cinnamon scented bodywash over her body, the pink under skin returning like it had never left. 

Her phone rang as she finished washing the conditioner out of her hair, so she reluctantly turned the shower off, scared to miss any more concerned phone calls. 

“Abby! You’re alive, I have some news.” Manny’s voice crackled on the other end of the line. 

“You got a girl pregnant?” She quipped. 

“Do you think I would sound so happy if I had? No, I’ve been talking to different mechanics about your bike and I’ve found someone who thinks they can fix it. She said it’s going to be a big job but she’s willing to try, she specialises in Harley’s. Want me to give her the go ahead?” A tear fell from her right eye as her body relaxed. 

“Yes, yes oh my god. I’ll pay whatever I have to if she can fix my bike.” 

“Okay chica, I’ll let her know and I’ll send you her number. You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry for disappearing, you know how it is.” 

“That I do, I’ll swing by yours later with takeout, Nora’s dying to see you too so expect some company.” 

“Okay, thanks, I’ll see you later.” She hung up the phone as she laughed with relief, unable to comprehend that she might get her bike back, one of the last things her father had left her with before his passing.  

Thank you. 

She was sure, without a doubt, this was a gift from you, a promise that everything would be okay. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

“Hi Alice! Oh, I missed you baby!” Abby cooed at the German Shepherd that was leaping at her, Manny and Nora standing behind smiling with takeout bags in their hands. 

“Nice to know you’re more excited to see Alice than us.” Manny accused with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“I dunno why you’re surprised, you know she’s my favourite.” Abby quipped as she stepped aside to let them both in. Nora hugged her before squeezing her shoulders and taking in Abby’s features with an obvious look of pity despite today being the best Abby had looked. Her hair was down, partly hanging over her shoulders, the majority of it sweeping down her back, the left side tucked behind her ear. She wore a grey sweatshirt that hung off of her slightly now as her muscle mass had decreased since the accident with black baggy jeans that sat low on her hips. She looked well, just as buff as she typically did and she had come to terms with that fact until she could rebuild herself back to what she once was.  

“I missed you girl.” Nora’s voice was soft as she smiled. 

“Yeah I missed you too.” 

“We couldn’t decide on what to get for food, so we got chinese and thai.” 

“Even better.” Abby led them to the living room where they all settled on the sofa and began laying out the various dishes that had their mouths watering, the different aromas each complimenting each other and making Abby’s head spin with excitement. Alice crept into the room before pausing and growling at the corner where Abby’s TV wasn’t causing them all to chuckle in confusion. Alice remained planted in her place, her growls unwavering until she whined slightly and moved closer where she barked and her tail began to wag furiously. She nuzzled into the air, her tail wagging so fast she could’ve taken off into the air before curling up and dozing in the corner, her tail still wagging gently.  

“Did you put some treats over there what the fuck? She’s always glued to our side even if we don’t have food.” Abby didn’t reply, instead staring at the corner in awe, she noticed the slightest shimmer in the air, almost completely invisible, and smiled knowing you were watching, soothing Alice the way you did her. She could picture you scratching behind the dog’s ears and humming serenely.  

“Maybe she’s just tired of being around you fuck face.” Abby chuckled as she replied to Manny, the pink muscle of her tongue poking from between her teeth in a cheeky grin. 

“Whatever, I bring you food and this is what I get.” He reaches forward and turns on the TV to find something to watch as Nora and Abby caught up. 

“Oh my god I almost forgot to tell you. Mel’s pregnant.” 

“No fucking way, has Owen ran for the hills?” Abby laughed, the sound music to your ears as you observed her enjoying her friends’ company, it warmed you to see her embracing life again, going back to how she had been before the accident, before your entanglement with her, eased the ache within you, an emotion that you couldn’t describe subsiding slightly from the powerful blaze that had roared through you throughout the week. 

“No actually, he’s kinda stepped up, we were as shocked as you are.” 

“Wow I’m really happy for them.” She genuinely beamed at the news, excitement flooding through her for them until something ugly picked its way through the glow of her joy, jealousy. Jealous that she could never have that with you, that she could never grow old with you, that your paths were not fated to cross like two humans were. She waited for your hands to take the suffocating feeling away but you didn’t, you let her seethe and wallow as Manny and Nora laughed at the TV only interrupted by a quiet whine from Alice that had her head snapping in your direction and glaring. The room felt colder all of a sudden, emptier, Alice moving from her corner to sit by Abby’s feet and that was an answer enough, you weren’t there anymore, you had left her with these vindictive feelings gnarling at her heart. 

Abby stayed quiet for the rest of the night, speaking when she was spoken too but nothing more and nothing less, eager to keep her friends’ worried eyes off of her, to stop them from prying away at the walls she so painstakingly guarded. She eventually claimed tiredness and politely ushered them out the door with hugs goodbye and kisses to Alice’s nose so she could sleep in the hopes you’d visit her and tell her everything would be okay. 

But she didn’t dream that night. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Weeks went by without another dream, without even a nightmare, sometimes she found herself wishing for the nightmares to return just to get a taste of you, even the tiniest part of you, but nothing came, you never appeared to her, and her subconscious never conjured you.  

She checked in on her bike regularly with the mechanic, Ruby. She was beautiful, dark blue hair that turned electric in the sun, tight ringlets bouncing over her shoulders and framing her face. Her ebony skin was pristine and decorated with tattoos that sprawled over every inch that could be seen under her clothes. There were smudges of black over her grey tank top and overalls that folded over at the hip. There was no denying she was beautiful, but she wasn’t you. 

“Abby! Hey, thanks for coming, I’ve got exciting news follow me!” She hurried off to the back of the shop leaving Abby to follow with her heart in her throat at the thought of being able to ride her bike again soon. “I have worked day and night on this bike, she has been my baby.” Ruby squealed as she circled round the Harley standing in all its glory. “Come, hop on!” Abby hesitantly walks over to the bike and swings her leg over to seat herself, it almost felt foreign, she used to ride every day and she hadn’t in well over a four months now, almost two. “What? You forgotten how to ride?” Ruby giggled at Abby’s perplexion. 

“No.” Abby huffed before turning the key in the ignition and holding the start button with her thumb, the engine roared to life and her eyes widened until they couldn’t anymore before flicking to Ruby’s ecstatic face. “No fucking way! Oh my god, you fixed her!” 

“Oh yeah she’s running even better than she did before.” 

“Holy fuck, thank you so much, oh my fuck how much do I owe you?” Abby’s smile was hurting her cheeks as she turned the bike off and clambered off. 

Abby paid Ruby, a discounted price that ‘only the pretty girls get’ according to Ruby and hugged her for the magic she had so clearly worked. Abby was too excited about her beloved Harley being fully functioning again to notice Ruby’s obvious flirtation, though if she had noticed, she still would’ve shied away due to the mere fact that she wasn’t you. She was forgoing a beautiful human for an angel that she could never truly have, her heart clung to you even in your absence. 

She rushed back to the bike and let its powerful engine hum underneath her before she realised she hadn’t brought her helmet, half-expecting Ruby to tell her there was nothing she could do to save the bike when she had called this morning. Your face popped into her mind, the perfect scrunch between your eyebrows when you’d scold her for her recklessness, it was like everything became clear, you’d show up if she was in danger, so she’d put herself in danger. 

“Thanks again Ruby!” With that she was flying out of the garage and onto the streets, weaving in and out of cars leaving a cacophony of horns from disgruntled drivers in her wake. The engine revved and vibrated underneath her but it wasn’t enough, she couldn’t feel your soft guiding hand or see the subtle shimmer anywhere hinting that you were with her. You had still abandoned her. She revved the engine more and the wind whipped past her even harsher as she leant forward and took the bike as fast as it would go. Everything around her was a blur until she saw the blaring red light telling her she was about to smash straight into passing traffic. Her hand immediately slammed down on the brake lever, squeezing with all her might as she came to a squealing stop just ahead of the stop line. “Fuck that was close.” It was close and you still were nowhere to be seen, she had never felt so alone, the feeling ripping through her and tearing her heart to shreds. Her skin burned and her vision pulsed as the light flicked from red, to amber and then to green letting her speed off again with a different motive this time. She released all of her heartache, all of her rage into the bike, speeding through the smudged city until she arrived back at her home, seething that she was still in one piece, she wished she had been torn to shreds on that bike just to punish you for your silence. 

As she entered her home, rain began to trickle outside, then pouring and then hammering, it was a stark contrast from the bright sun that had illuminated her journey and Abby closed every curtain, shut every blind to shield herself from the sight of it. She clamped her headphones onto her ears and pressed play on her playlist setting it to the loudest volume to drown out the bombardment of the rain. She threw herself onto her bed and clamped her eyes shut, wrapping herself in the blankets to combat the eery coldness of her once toasty room.  

You could feel the resentment in her, the sorrow, the unfiltered anger, you could feel everything, she was tied to you, a spiritual tether that you couldn’t rip no matter how much you tried. You were stuck an endless lop of longing and distancing, a fight between selfishness and selflessness, a never-ending battle that you would never win. You felt her tears falling, your own cascading in tandem, your wings drooped and dragged, aching your back with an intolerable pain, whelping and wincing at their strain. They had never felt heavy like this before, always perched on your back weightlessly but now they were fighting against you, desperately trying to force you to the ground. 

You felt her drift into unconsciousness, felt the empty black void of her mind tormenting her, her subconscious laughing at her as her dreams lay dormant, never revealing you or the beach. 

You felt her pry herself awake, the nothingness becoming too much, felt the restless paces all over the house, the stomping steps reverberating through you. You felt her growl and shriek at the loneliness, a feeling you had come to understand in getting entangled with Abby, you had never felt lonely before, never craved what you didn’t already have, your role contented you but then she gave you a taste of something different, something human and now you felt lonely, drowning in your solitude. Selfishness or selflessness, a right and a wrong answer that got jumbled in your mind when you contemplated their meanings too much. 

You felt the hot water hit her skin, the bath full, almost overflowing as she lowered herself into it. The hiss of shock to her system that provided her the only comfort that even brushed what she felt with you. You felt her hold her breath, the water engulfing her as she anchored herself under it. You felt the miniscule air bubbles tickling her nose and eyes, her lips parting and letting the water invade her entirety. You felt her lungs constrict, deprived of oxygen, her heart quickening its pace desperately trying to keep her body alive. You felt the sting encompassing her organs as they functioned without their life source, the emptiness of her blood with only carbon dioxide to carry around in its stream. You felt everything, the fight between her body and mind, breathe, don’t breathe, let go, let the pain float away. You felt the determination, the decision that had been made the second she ran the bath. You waited and waited for her to relent, to emerge from the depths of despair but it never came, you waited for her head to spin and the light inside her to fade until there was no fight anymore because her mind had won. 

You moved quickly, dragging her body out of the water with inhumane ease and skill. You pressed your lips to hers, breathing light and life back into her before you compressed her chest in one powerful push that took every ounce of your strength. You felt the water rush out of her lungs, expel itself from her body, you spluttered as she did, water spilling out of your mouth the way it did hers, it burned your throat and it burned hers, but she wasn’t conscious enough to feel it. You felt everything for her.  

You waited for her eyes to crack open and the second they did you disappeared from her plane to hide in yours, still collapsed on the ground fighting for breath.  

She sat up, confused at first until she felt the hard, dry surface beneath her and noticed the bath next to her, water still rippling from the hasty movements.  

“I know you’re here! Stop fucking hiding from me!” She screeched, her throat swollen and voice croaky, a cough following her words as she struggled to her feet. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just let me die, you’re cruel for doing this to me and then stopping me from ending it. You’re cruel and vindictive, you’re a selfish bitch and I hate you! I wish I had died in that fucking accident so I never had to meet you!” She screamed. You felt it, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, of rejection. You felt your own desolation, she was right, you had been selfish, what good did it do for you to be selfless now when you had already ruined her with your immorality.  

I hate you. 

I love you. 

She wailed, she screamed and cried because she didn’t hate you, she never could, she loved you just like you loved her but she had no control over the situation, she was a passive object of your love. She was your undoing and you were hers. 

Abby couldn’t breathe, she choked and hyperventilated over her tears until her cheeks felt bruised from the onslaught and her throat was raw. Something so perfect, so pure had bid its evil on her, dragging her into its arms and trapping her in a pit, strangled her with its love wrapping its claws around her neck and squeezing until it drew blood.  

The beach, it was a goodbye. 

It was a goodbye. 

It was a goodbye. 

Her thoughts swarmed and festered, repeating the same four words over and over, your voice merely echoing the thoughts.  

You can’t leave me, this is you’re fucking fault. 

She was right, you were to blame for her destruction, a being whose sole purpose was protection and you had destroyed the very person you had sworn to protect, demolished her heart, ripped her soul to shreds and then watched the aftermath burn and disintegrate.  

“I-I can’t do this anymore, I need it to stop. I need to make this feeling go away.” 

I need you. I need you. I need you. 

She crawled from the floor of her ensuite to her wardrobe, ripping open the doors and rooting around until her hands felt the solid, square shape of the shoebox she had shoved to the back and forgotten about. She dragged it out letting it clatter to the floor and tore open the lid, the way you had her heart. Her hands enclosed round the cool metal of the handle, and she relinquished the pistol that had been her father’s, the only one he had ever had. It had never been used, just sat collecting dust but it would get its debut now, its first and last shot fired.  

She checked the barrel and sighed when there were bullets in each slot of the chamber of the revolver, you shrieked at the sight of it until she placed it down again. She slipped on a tracksuit and ran downstairs to find some paper to write a note for Manny and Nora, it felt wrong to leave without even a poor explanation of why. She scribbled their names on the folded over bit of paper before walking upstairs and leaving it on the bed. She wasn’t frantic, her steps were calm and calculated. You watched her adjust her grip on the revolver and let out a sigh as she raised it to her head. 

“NO ABBY!” You let yourself be seen as you rushed towards her and knocked the gun from her hand. She grunted and shoved you away from her to scramble for the gun. “NO PLEASE DON’T!” 

“WHY? WHY DO YOU CARE?” 

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.” 

“NO YOU DON’T.” 

“I DO ABBY! I didn’t understand at first because I’d never felt it before but I know now, I love you, you made me understand what love is.” 

“I can’t keep living like this, I need to be with you.” 

“Doing this, killing yourself won’t let us be together Abby, it will only split us apart for eternity.” 

“WHY?” 

“If I fail to stop you from ending your own life I’ll be banished to live immortally on Earth. You’ll be dead and I’ll never be able to die. Please put the gun down.” Tears gushed down her face as she dropped the gun and collapsed to her knees, burying her face into her hands and wailing. You crept over to her and kneeled before her, cupping her face in your hands and looking directly into her eyes, a stare so strong she felt like she was being sucked into you. Your hands glowed but now so did your eyes as hers were transfixed. You felt the force of a thousand knives stabbing into you but you kept you gaze fixed on hers as you absorbed all of her turmoil, took everything away until it was a dull ache, she sat, completely numb until the glow of your hands and eyes, the glow radiating all around you flickered violently before dissipating completely. Your hands went cold and the colour in your skin drained. The golden strands of your hair turned black, and the flaxen speckles vanished as if they were never there. 

You felt weak, brittle and dark, the room blackening until only shadows could be made out. 

A sudden crackling sounded, a harsh, continuous crackling sounded until the room was lit up by the fire that had ignited at the end of your wings. Abby noticed it as you bellowed and bawled. You grabbed onto Abby’s shoulders with enough force to leave bruises in the wake of your fingers, curling into her, your body racking with indescribable pain.  

“What’s happening? I-I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.” Your tears no longer shimmered, they glowed red, deep, thick red as you screamed and wailed from the pain. It felt like millions of tiny explosions were being set off inside you, it felt like the end.  

“I-I think this is my punishment.” You whispered before meeting her eyes, the fear, the guilt, the inexplicable pain all shining through them, burying themselves into your soul, it hurt too much. You lurched forward and pressed your lips to hers harshly, rushed and passionate as you savoured it letting it coax you through the pain. You pulled away with a groan and pressed your forehead to hers.  

“I’m scared Abby.”  

“I love you. I’ll always love you, I’m so sorry, I love you.” 

“Don’t apologise, you made me feel alive. I’ll love you for as long as there are stars in the sky.” She pressed her lips to yours again, her salty tears settling themselves on your tongue as you licked at her lips begging to taste her one more time. Your souls collided as your lips did and as quickly as she felt you in her arms, on her tongue, in her head, you were gone. A pile of ash that faded before she could realise what it was. 

You were gone. 

[cantwritethetword]

(2023) TickleTober Day 8: Alien - More Human Than You Think

Fic Descript - The Doctor maintains that being tickling is a strictly human thing. While Rory is quick to accept it, Amy knows him too well.

~A/N  - BLAME @carrie-tate FOR THIS HER 11TH DOCTOR ART HAS REIGNITED MY LOVE OF THIS TRIO AND INSPIRED ME TO WRITE THIS FIC (ngl heavily based on this art)

These guys were my first introduction to doctor who when I was like 8 so they are very very important to me I love them, so hopefully I write this well ^^

(also feel it's important for everyone to know that I watched this wonderful montage the whole time I was writing it lmao)

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @fullsongphilosopher

Masterpost Link 

TickleTober Masterpost

"I keep thinking I'm used to you." Rory said with a light chuckle.

The Doctor popped up from where he was working. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with a scrunched face, wielding a modified hair dryer and what looked like washing machine tablets.

Clearly the irony was lost on him.

The TARDIS needed a little TLC (in the Doctor's words), and so the team had taken the rare opportunity of peacefully floating through space to get some adjustments done. The Doctor was banging and tinkering at the console, Rory was watching, and Amy had gone to take a shower (because apparently she had no desire to listen to the Doctor's consistent yapping as he worked).

"Well, I've been here for long enough to feel like I know you." Rory explained. "But then you go do something... odd... And it's like the first day I met you all over again."

"Are you forgetting Rory," The Doctor half-shouted over the whirring of the hair dryer. "I'm an over 900 year old Time Lord from another planet, of course I'm odd. The best people are."

Rory softly tilted his head, taking a moment to fully appreciate that perhaps it was the overall circumstance that was weird rather than the person in front of him, before circling around the console closer to his friend.

"That looks better." The Doctor sat upright and clicked off his tool, turning to face Rory. "What do you think? After this I've just got a few more tweaks and we can be off again."

"You look human though." Rory continued from his previous train of thought. "You eat human food, you dress in human clothes, surely you aren't completely Alien."

"I'm just as Alien to you as you are to me." The Doctor chirped, scurrying over to the next stage in his TARDIS-repair plan.

As he moved, however, he failed to realise the space (or lack thereof) between his head and the edge of the console. He let out a tight-lipped groan as he rubbed the impact site on the top of his forehead.

"And you feel pain like us." Rory added, jumping to add the spontaneous example that would back up his point to the list.

The Doctor shot him an agitated look. "Don't they teach you bedside manner at your nursing job? I near enough break my skull and all you do is point out that we both feel pain? Most beings do!"

Rory, ignoring the Doctor's initial complaining and instead focusing on his last statement, nodded in contemplation. "I suppose they do..."

"I sUpPoSe tHeY- ugh..." The Doctor rolled his eyes, accepting that he wasn't getting any sympathy from the usually most sympathetic person on the TARDIS. "Any other questions? Or can I get back to doing something important."

"Hmm..." Rory scratched the back of his head. "Are you ticklish or anything?"

The Doctor froze momentarily, before jumping to his feet with a spin and a smile. "Nope, that's unique to you humans."

Rory gave him a doubtful but unsure look.

"Honestly, if anything you lot are the weird ones with your... hyperactive nervous systems... and... involuntary laughter responses..." The Doctor rambled, but his flow was a little more disjointed than usual.

"I guess so..." Rory nodded, but he still couldn't shake the memory of the Doctor's odd reaction.

But, there was little time to think about it.

"Has he bored you to death yet?" Amy said with a grin from the stairway.

"Hey!" The Doctor complained as Rory laughed. "I'm the most quality entertainment out there."

Rory opened his arm for Amy to tuck herself under it. "The Doctor was just telling me how weird we humans are."

Amy gave him a look. "You're one to talk Mr Bow-Tie."

The Doctor tugged on the aforementioned accessory. "Bow ties are-."

"Bow ties are cool, right." She finished for him, rolling her eyes. "My point still stands, how exactly are we the weird ones?"

As Rory opened his mouth, the Doctor jumped in first. "Well, weird might be a strong word. Humanity is wonderful and beautiful and terrible and strange and-"

"We're ticklish." Rory interrupted. "But that was the only example he could give me so I'm not sure I-"

"Oh you're not ticklish, Doctor?" Amy asked halfway through Rory's statement, but something in her grin made The Doctor suspect she knew the answer already.

"Uh..." The Doctor rubbed his neck. "Well I... Well..."

"He said it was just a human thing." Rory offered a response, oblivious to the rising tension surrounding the Doctor.

"Is it now?" Amy took a few steps closer to the Time Lord, her face trying to seem innocent and confused. "Just humans?"

The Doctor stumbled backwards, his hands fumbling over themselves. "Well, perhaps sometimes... some Time Lords may... may be a little more uh... susceptible to uh... to things like that."

Amy continued her devastatingly slow pursuit around the console of the TARDIS, leaving Rory on the opposite side. "And would you be one of them?"

Rory finally caught on as the Doctor backed up towards him. "Wait you lied to me?!"

"Rory it was nothing personal I just-" The Doctor babbled nervously, his hands now forming a semi-protective barrier between him and his pursuer.

Amy made eye contact with her husband, that evil grin still plastered on her face. "Rory, how do we feel about liars?"

Without a word, Rory stepped behind the Doctor and hooked his arms under the Doctor's shoulders.

"Waitwaitwaitwait no!" The Doctor shrieked, wriggling in Rory's hold. "Plehease!"

"Huh..." Amy paused, an inquisitive look on her face. "Humans normally wait for the tickling to start before we start laughing... Is that a Time Lord thing too?"

The Doctor whined. "Yohou know that's not truhue!"

Rory chuckled from behind. "You're not really in a position to talk about truth right now."

The Doctor was about to argue when Amy lunged, lightly scribbling her fingernails all over the poor Doctor's torso. He inhaled sharply, the effort of containing his reactions forcing out squeaking noises.

"Seems pretty ticklish to me." Rory commented, struggling with the sudden responsibility of keeping the Doctor upright.

Amy smirked, pausing her attack. "Oh, I don't know... He's not laughing anymore, maybe he was right..."

"I'm-" The Doctor panted out. "Always... right-"

Before he even had the chance to finish there were ten fingers digging under his armpits.

His eagerness to jump at the opportunity to talk after being unable to for the last ten seconds was exactly what Amy was counting on, and the sudden unexpected attack brought out a shriek of helpless cackles from the poor Doctor.

With a grin, Amy looked up at her husband. "Now this is what I'd call ticklish."

"OHOKAY FINE FINE FIHIHINE!" The Doctor yelped in between giggles. "I'M TICKLIHISH! JUST LET ME GOHOHO!"

Rory and Amy locked eyes, smirking.

"What do you think Rory?" Amy asked, letting her fingers skitter up and down the Doctor's bony ribcage. "Have we proved our point?"

Rory hummed in thought, drawing out his response to mess with the Time Lord as long as humanly possible. "I might be convinced, but he still hasn't apologised for lying..."

"I DIHIDN'T HAVE A CHOHOHOICE!!!"

Switching to drilling her thumbs into the Doctor's hip bones in response to his claim, Amy gave him a fake-confused look. "That doesn't sound like an apology."

Rory laughed, while the Doctor scrambled to put together something that sounded like speech through his laughter. "FIHIHINE OKAHAY I'M SOHOHORRY!"

Amy withdrew her fingers as Rory guided the Doctor to the floor, letting him rest his head on Rory's leg.

"I think you're more human than you think." Rory chuckled, patting the Doctor's shoulder.

"Right." The Doctor glared up at him, but there was a hint of softness behind his eyes. "Can we go now?"

[seeingivy]

milestones 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

megumi thanks you and satoru for everything you’ve done 

content: megumi + oc child, FLUFF, just sweet little wholesome family moment at graduation, lil family dynamics 

an: based on a very cute family I saw while working graduation a few weeks ago. realized ive been giving no attention to my man gojo while I draft the longer fic so I will revive an unfinished draft. not proofread. 

- 

“Asami, stop ringing the cowbell. Your Megumi-nii is going to be here any second.” 

You feel her tug on the end of your skirt and you look down to meet her crystal blue eyes, no cowbell in sight. 

“That’s not me, Mama.” 

You turn your neck to find Satoru standing on the platform, shaking the cowbell over his head. Megumi’s going to kill him. If you don’t get to him first. You grab his arm and yank him down, pinching the end of his ears in your fingers. 

“Ow ow ow. Quit it.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Trying to find Megumi, love! I would have used the air horn but Asami lost it.” 

He reaches down, tickling her by the sides as she laughs out in protest. You pull them both in front of you, scolding the two of them under their breaths as you fix their outfits. Satoru’s tie was off center, Asami’s skirt was riding up, their matching white hair unruly. Before you can fix it, Satoru grabs your hand in the air, locking his fingers with yours. 

“This is worse than when he was in the school play. You’d think he was getting married by the way you were acting.” 

“Shut up. This is a big deal for him, I don’t want him to think we’re not taking it seriously.” 

“You printed out minute by minute itineraries on how we were all going to get here. I think he knows you take this seriously, my sweet.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he fixes your hair, pushing it behind your ears. You give him one last eye roll, before standing on the tips of your toes to find Megumi in the crowd. The graduates had started coming out, other families wrapping their arms around each other. 

“Megumi-nii!” 

Asami spots him first, her tiny little legs running up to where Megumi was standing. She wraps her legs around his knees, catching him off guard as he breaks out of the conversation he was having. You watch him crouch down and pick up Asami, as you and Satoru excitedly walk up and crush him in a hug. 

“Alright, alright. Calm down.” 

Satoru reaches forward and ruffles his hair, the same way he had been doing since the two of you first got Megumi, all but knocking the cap off of his head. 

“Congratulations Doctor Megumi. Don’t kill anyone, okay? Y/N and I love you very much but we have no interest in helping you hide bodies anymore.” 

The couple standing to your side give you a weird look before walking across the courtyard. You reach forward, pushing Satoru out of the way as you readjust Megumi’s dark green hood, his cords, and his cap. He gives you a thankful smile - one that you’ve seen hundreds of times over the years, whenever you save him from Satoru’s pestering. Which was often. 

“This is a…big deal. Satoru’s just being silly.” 

You give him a smile before taking the flowery lei out of the plastic box and handing it to Satoru. You watch Satoru jokingly smack Megumi with the flowers, before placing them around his neck and ruffling his hair, nicely this time. 

“You guys didn’t have to.” 

You crush his hand in yours, squeezing twice as Asami runs in little circles around your legs. 

“Of course, we did. I know we joke about it, but you really are our first kid. We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

He gives the two of you a smile, reaching to pick up Asami, who had been pulling on the end of his gown for the past five minutes. Satoru wraps his arm around you, leaning his head against yours as the two of you try your best not to cry at the sight of your two kids, smiling at each other. 

“We’re really proud of you, Megumi.” 

Satoru’s words make the tears well in your eyes and you crush him into a hug again. Asami’s still crushed in between the two of you, her tiny voice muffled by your arms. He pulls back, putting Asami on the ground as he nervously runs his hand through his hair. 

“Ah, right. Um.” 

“Something wrong, Megs?” 

“No Y/N. It’s just- I wanted to thank you guys. I really couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Megumi pulls the graduation cap off of his head and secures it on top of Asami’s little ponytails, poking the side of her cheek before standing up to face the two of you. Your face hurts from smiling, seeing your two favorite people being sweet together. 

“Megumi.” 

“You guys did so much for me when I was younger, and I never really made it easy for you. This is my achievement just as much as it is yours.” 

Megumi swipes the cords off his neck and swings them around your neck. He does the same with his gown, zipping it off and holding it out for Satoru to stick his arms in. By the way he’s looking at you, you know that you and Satoru are a mess. Cheeks pink, makeup smudged, tears running down your cheeks. 

“You guys are corny. Stop crying.” 

You take his face in his hands, squishing his cheeks. 

“When did you become so grown? You literally slept in my bed till you were fourteen and now you’re acting so mature and grown up and-” 

You feel Satoru’s hands curl around your wrist, pulling your hands off of his face. He lets go, lifting his hands to your face to swipe the tears off your cheeks. He gives Megumi a smile, beckoning for him to go talk to his friends who were waiting at the side. He takes Asami by the hand, introducing them to Nobara and Itadori as they all walk down the courtyard. He turns his head back to you, the tears still pouring out of your eyes. 

“Are you done yet crybaby?” 

“How are you not crying? Megumi grew up.” 

He wraps his arms around you, pressing soft kisses to your hair as you watch Itadori and Asami play a very intense game of rock paper scissors a few feet away from you. 

“Asami’s not going to stay a baby, you know. And when you’re the one crying about it, I’ll be the one laughing at you.” 

“That won’t be a problem. We can just make another one!” 

 You smack him as Asami runs back over, followed closely by Megumi. “Ready to go, Mama?” 

Satoru nods, picking her up and dragging her back to your car as you link your arms with Megumi and follow the two of them. 

“You know, Satoru’s just as sentimental about this as I am. He’s just trying to act cool.” 

“He’s worse than you. I asked him to fix my tie this morning and he had a whole meltdown.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yeah. Went on and on about how I made you two parents, about how I’m Asami’s big brother so I have to come back and take care of her, how I can’t forget you guys.” 

You look up to find Satoru hanging Asami in the air by her ankles, the two of them laughing as he swings her in the air. You shove your head against Megumi’s shoulder, linking your arm through his. 

“What a sap.”