#he learned from evergreen but whatever

[nrmtenjoyer]

I reference this scene all the time when I'm petting my dog, it's so wholesome

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Reckless Driving - Lando Norris

<word count - 1097>

warnings: slight details of a car crash near the end, character death

You and Lando had just gotten out from dinner, and you had had nothing short of a wonderful evening with him. The moon was sitting as a beacon in the sky, the stars twinkling around it like pin pricks in the darkness. 

As you were stood by his car after he offered to drive you home, you suddenly felt the urge to kiss him. It was a very random, spur of the moment thing. It wasn't even that you really meant to kiss him, you just kind of did. 

Well, you did, but you didn't think it would go this far. 

For Lando, however, that was the one thing that cemented something in his brain. He was in love with you. He was completely, undoubtedly, unequivocally in love with you. Head over heels, in too deep, falling too far. 

And that kiss was the thing that proved his suspicions completely right. He held the car door open for you as you clambered in, needing to take a second for himself to breathe. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and he couldn't seem to calm down. 

It felt like electricity was surging through his veins, and he was drunk on the taste of you. He was inebriated, but he never wanted to sober up. 

On the way back to your house, you had to go down a long street, completely lined by by dark fur trees. The evergreens were completely shadowing the world around you, like you were in your own little bubble. Your own microcosm, your own world. 

Lando's glance keeps landing on you, and he can't focus on the road when you're in his car. As he drives, he stares at you like he's not convinced that you are real. It's like he gets distracted, before snapping back to reality momentarily. 

It was just an endless cycle of focusing on the road, then letting his eyes wander back over to you, sat cross legged beside him. You looked so stunning, features highlighted by the moonlight as the stars reflected in your eyes. 

"Keep your eyes on the road, Norris," you chuckled, half as a joke and half as a real command. You had told him a couple of times when you had caught him staring at you, not wanting him to stop concentrating on the more important task at hand - getting the both of you home safe. 

His intentions weren't even to drive you home, he was just going wherever the road took you. All he wanted was to be with you while he figured out how to convey his feelings in a meaningful and sincere way.

He didn't want to bombard you with it out of the blue, but that was seeming like the best option at this point. He wasn't sure how to do romance properly, but he wanted to learn for you. Quite frankly, he'd be whatever you needed him to be. 

On the other hand, you were in limbo. You could tell by the tiny glimmer in his eye that he had feelings for you. That was very much reciprocated, but the level to which he felt for you seemed... greater, than what you initially thought.  

You almost regretted kissing him because that's when you felt things change. You felt something shift in the atmosphere. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't quite what you felt you were ready for. You didn't love him like that, but he loved you like that.  As he sped up, you wished you were driving because you were a more careful driver. Lando was reckless. You were going at one hundred, then one eighty and you could just see it all happen. You could see it all happen in your head as he carried on hurtling down the road. 

He was looking again, his eyes glued onto yours when you turned your head. "You'd rather die than take your eyes off me, huh?" you said, more stern in your tone.  Lando looked like lost puppy as he turned his head away from yours, but you could see his attention wasn't centered on the road. 

He thought your words over in his head, wondering what would happen if you did crash. Would you hold him if you crashed, or would you let him go? He'd hold you, that was for certain. He'd use his last dying breath to hold onto you, keep you grasped in his arms. If you were the last thing he saw, felt, touched, he'd die a very happy man.

"Lando, please can you slow down?" you said, the pine trees on either side blending into a blue of darkness as you could feel the force pushing you back in your weat slightly. Your voice quivered as you talked.

*insert possible dirty innuendo about asking Lando to slow down with a quivering voice good stuff*

"We're fine, Y/N, calm down," he chuckled, not taking your fear seriously. He didn't slow down, instead keeping at the same, fast, dangerous pace.

"I don't want to scrape you off the pavement, and I certainly don't want to be here when you lose control," you carried on, since he wasn't taking the hint. All you wanted was for him to slow down, that was it. 

For a moment, you were transported out of the car and into an outside perspective. You could see the headlines now, F1 talent driver Lando Norris and his supposed girlfriend killed in a freak car accident because he was reckless driving way too fast. How ironic. 

As his heart beat faster, he pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. All of the extra adrenaline he was feeling was put into gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white and the car was nearly going flat out. 

"Look, Y/N, I really need to tell you something, and you'll probably think it's stupid, but I think I-" he rambled, before being cut off by being thrown to the side. He tried to regain control, but all he could hear was your ear-splitting scream of his name that would haunt him through to the afterlife. 

In that split second, he saw his life flash before his eyes. He saw his past and his future, then all he saw was you, flying forward as the seatbelt braced around you. It all felt numb to him as his hand weren't gripping the wheel anymore. 

Time and space moved in solemn harmony before screeching to a complete halt with the remorseful crunch of metal and the crack of wood. 

And it's over in a second, crashed the car into a tree.

A/N - I am steaming through this series I can't lie, I am rather proud of myself. How is everyone's day going? Hope you've had a good one, requests are open, love you lots!

|masterlist|five seconds flat|

[riboism]

man who can’t be moved

》 pairing: j.yh x f!reader

》 genre: angst, smut, some fluff

》 content: college student!reader, college student! yunho, no strings attached, hookups, reader is kind of a player, some mentions of reader’s ex (it didn’t end well),  lots of denial, lots of emotions, big dick yunho, creampie, clit play, angry sex, am i missing anything?

》 wc: 6.4k

》 a/n: thank you to the person who requested this! this got me out of my writers block. I hope you like it :)

♫ playlist: flook- hector gachan, evergreen- omar apollo, frío- omar apollo, broken love- gemini, man who can’t be moved- the script

Yunho stood outside your apartment door, holding onto a box that contained your possessions. He could smell the rosy scent of the shampoo that you left in his shower. He had spent all morning collecting your belongings into this box, proud that he finally made an effort to be rid of you once and for all. But that rosy smell, that same scent that he’d wake up to after you spent the night was making him second guess himself. No, stop it, he said to himself. Just stick to the plan Yunho. 

The plan was simple. Yunho would go to your apartment after work and knock on your door, fully aware that you probably weren’t home. You were most likely at San’s or Yeosang’s place right now, getting shit-faced drunk and having sweaty sex on their beat-up couches, head too fuzzy in bliss to even spare a single thought about him. But he thought he would knock anyway, just as a courtesy. He’d wait for ten seconds, and when you don’t answer, he’d shrug in a “welp, I tried” kind of way before placing the box on your doorstep. He’ll take a deep breath while looking at your door that he knew all too well one last time and then head towards the stairwell exit, with his head held high, showing no intention of turning back.

Yunho was partly to blame for the way things ended, and he knew that. You made yourself very clear in the beginning. “Listen Yunho, you’re really sweet,” You said after he confessed to you all those months ago at the campus library where you two first met, “But I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t really do relationships. You get what I mean?”

He knew exactly what you meant. ‘Dating’ was an ancient term. Nobody ‘dated’ anymore. What replaced this archaic social practice were one-night stands, situation-ships, friends with benefits, hookups, etc. No one wanted a ‘serious’ relationship anymore because that meant having to give your mind, body, and soul to someone, and why bother with all that when you can just give them one of the three? 

Even though most of his peers shared the same sentiment as you when it came to relationships, Yunho didn’t agree with it at all. Maybe he was old-fashioned for wanting something more than a quick fuck. Looking back on it now, he regretted not taking the hint. It was evident that you wanted a guy you could fool around with when you were bored, someone who’s emotionally unavailable so you don’t have to worry about attachments and sudden ‘L’ bombs when you’re just trying to get your fix. But Yunho, who was so pathetically infatuated with you at the time, so much so that it blocked away all rational thinking, decided that he’ll be whatever kind of guy you wanted him to be if it meant that he could be with you. The foolish romantic was now part of a no strings attached relationship. 

He felt incredibly stupid for getting involved with you. What did he expect? That after all the mindless sex, you’d fall as hard for him as he did for you, and finally agree to be his girlfriend? He had so much to learn. No strings attached meant no strings attached. That meant less conversation and more action. Less getting to know each other and more getting to know about what was in between your legs. It meant no longing stares, although he was guilty of watching you sleep in his arms from time to time. It also meant being okay with the fact that he was not the only guy you were seeing. And that’s when the fights would ensue.

“Who was that guy?” Yunho demanded, making sure to use his quiet-yelling voice out of respect for the other patrons of the library. He was referring to the pale, blonde-haired guy from the dining hall earlier. He didn’t like how close he was standing next to you. He especially didn’t like it when he leaned in to whisper in your ear, or how you giggled when he placed his hands over your waist and how you rubbed your hands over his flexed muscles. You chewed on your gum, tracing your fingers over the etched golden text on the book spines on the historical fiction shelf. You almost didn’t hear him at first, too preoccupied with finding your next bedtime read. 

“Hmm? Oh, that guy? Just someone I’ve been seeing. Why, you jealous?” 

It was a joke. There was no such thing as ‘jealousy’ in a no strings attached relationship. You smiled up at him, expecting to see him roll his eyes from your playful jab, but instead, he looked away from you. Even with his side profile facing you, you could read the tinge of irritation on his face. You frowned.

“Oh come on Pookie,” You pouted, squeezing his cheeks and turning his head to face you. You chuckled after seeing his lips puckered up like a fish. “Don’t be like that. Come on, I can’t be the only girl you’re seeing, right?” 

He placed his hand on your wrist and pulled you off him. “Whatever.” He moped. He watched as your eyes widened in sudden realization. 

“No…” You gasped dramatically, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. “I’m the only one you’ve been seeing?” 

He stayed quiet, not understanding why you worded it that way. Was it really a bad thing that you were the only girl on his mind? 

“Oh god, you’re so cute!” You tittered. “I thought with a dick like yours, you’d be very popular. It’s a shame you’re not sharing it. I know a lot of girls who would love to take you out for a spin.” 

“Keep your voice down.” Yunho hissed, looking around to see if anyone heard your distasteful choice of words. Luckily, no one was around at your corner of the library. “And stop talking like that. I don’t like it when you talk about me like that.” 

“It was a compliment!” You defended yourself. Yunho refused to meet your eyes, busying himself with pulling out random books and reading the blurbs on the backside, although he was too upset to even acknowledge what he was reading. You sighed again, feeling a little bad for making him so upset. You’d often forget that Yunho was more sensitive than your other partners and that he needed extra kindness and assurance. You wrapped your arms around his big body and rested your cheek against his back. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you so much.” He stayed quiet, putting back the book and pulling out another. “Please don’t be mad.” You begged. 

“I’m not mad,” He murmured. “I just thought…I don’t know, I thought I was the only guy you were seeing.” 

“Does it bother you that you’re not?” You questioned, letting go of him. Yunho looked back at you, his chest tightening at your furrowed brows. He worried that he said the wrong thing again. He was new to the no strings attached community, and would often let his possessiveness and sensitivity peek through. 

“No,” He lied. “I just…Forget it.” 

You mulled over his response, trying hard to understand why he was so upset, to begin with. Your silence made Yunho nervous. Everything about you made him nervous. 

Then, your eyes sparked when you finally understood. “Ohh…I get it.” You nodded. 

His shoulders tensed up. “You do?” 

“Yes, and you have nothing to worry about. Out of everyone, you’re my favorite.” You stood on your tippy toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, satisfied that you solved the puzzle and were able to calm his nerves. 

Yunho gave you a shy smile. He didn’t want to smile, but he figured it was best to do so, so that you could believe that he was lashing out over the fear of being replaced, and not because he didn’t wish to share you with other guys. 

You continued on. “You worried me for a second. I thought you were one of those guys that don’t like it when a girl has a mind of her own.”

“No,” he chuckled nervously, “No, I don’t mind that at all.” 

“Good,” you chirped, going back to your search. “You wouldn’t believe some of the guys I’ve been with. They get so clingy, and it gets annoying after a while. I’m glad you’re not like that. Other guys…they don’t get it.  We’re young. It’s better we have fun while we can, or else we’ll live to regret it when we’re old and wrinkly and can’t get any.” 

Yunho hummed in agreement, although he didn’t agree with you at all. He thought about his grandparents. They lived in a small apartment just outside of the city. His parents would complain about how small their living space was, and offered to help them move into a more spacious apartment, but his grandparents always refused. “If we move into a bigger apartment, we won’t be able to see each other. This size is perfect,” His grandmother would say, “I turn around and he’s right behind me. It’s how it should be. Anything farther, and we’d miss each other too much.”

It always warmed his heart just how inseparable those two were, even in their old age. He wanted that for himself one day. How wonderful would it be to grow old with the person you love most? 

Later that night, while you were showering, he remained in your bed, thinking about what you said earlier. Was he really your favorite? Did you really like him more than the other guys you were seeing? Or was his dick just bigger than theirs? He tried not to think about that too much and focused on going to sleep.

-

And when it wasn’t him being upset with you, it was you getting annoyed with him. 

“Do you really have to go?” Yunho whined. He was sitting up on his bed, watching you as you shuffled around his room, bending down to pick up the discarded pieces of clothing. 

“I already told San I’d meet up with him later.” You huffed as you shimmied into your jeans. Yunho didn’t like how quickly you were getting dressed. It was as if you were eager to get away from him. 

“San?” He scoffed. “You mean that bartender that kept eye fucking you right in front of me?” 

Yunho remembered San. A lot of the girls from your University frequented that bar on the corner of Main Street, hoping to get served by the handsome devil in all black. He’s seen a lot of the girls write their phone numbers on the twenty-dollar bills they tipped him with. It was ridiculous. Everything about him was ridiculous, from the cheap hair gel he used to slick back his hair, to his sleazy smile, along with his overly tight t-shirts and shiny black leather pants. But he didn’t mind him too much, not until that night when you two went in for a drink, and the so-called ‘handsome devil in all black’ ruthlessly flirted with you when he was clearly sitting right next to you with his hand on your thigh to mark that you were taken. Yunho didn’t know what angered him more. San’s shit-eating grin or the fact that you let him flirt with you in the first place. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that guy.” You really didn’t like it when he got emotional, and Yunho could sense your discomfort. He immediately regretted what he said and grabbed you by your arm before you could leave, pleading to you with his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you. But can’t you just stay a little longer? It’s already so late. I thought you could spend the night. We could rent a movie?” He offered. 

You picked up your jacket and purse, not even bothering to put them on before you left. “Look, I’ll call you okay?” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips and then went out the door before he could protest again. Yunho slumped back against the headboard, the sound of the door slamming behind you echoing in his head. How do you keep letting this happen, Yunho? She comes and goes, that’s what she does. She’s not here to hold hands and watch a fucking movie. She wants to fuck and then move on to the next guy. Seriously, do you have any respect for yourself?

And that’s how the cycle would begin. Yunho would get tired of you and your bullshit, tired of being discarded right after helping you cum, tired of driving himself mad over who you were seeing and what you were doing with him, just tired of being an option. It wasn’t him. He wanted you and your full devotion, and when he finally realized that there was no way you would give that to him, he’d call it off. 

The first few weeks of being free from you would go well. He’d be at peace like he got rid of a bad cold and could finally breathe again. But that small period of relief wouldn’t last very long. Truth was, Yunho wasn’t good at being alone. And soon, he’d miss your touch, your smell, and hearing your laugh. He’d miss the moments he spent with you in the library, like when you two would play footsies under the table during your late-night midterm study sessions, or the times you two would fight for the aux cord in his car, eager to show each other new songs you were obsessing over at the moment. He’d find himself listening to the songs you showed him, but they didn’t sound the same anymore. 

He’d miss hearing you talk about your day or your thoughts about rent control and the current economic crisis. And then he’d miss the nights he spent with you, how your body reacted to his fingertips, the way you’d press your eyes shut when he entered you, and the pretty sounds you let out when you were close to your peak. And then he’d think about that one night you showed up at his apartment, unannounced. You were upset, it was telling from your reddened lips and tear-stained cheeks. You wouldn’t say why you were upset, and after asking a couple of times, Yunho decided to just let leave you be. He then invited you in and let you lead the way to his bed. It started the way any other night started, with you two hungrily ripping each other’s clothing off, but before he could spread your legs, you suddenly pressed your hand to his chest and asked him to stop. “No, not like this…Can we-” You looked away from his piercing gaze, a rush of frustration and confusion coursing through your stomach until you finally spit the words out. “Can we just lay here?”

Yunho looked down at you with sincerity in his eyes, and he wanted to ask you one more time what was wrong. But seeing you so hurt, so tired, so in need of someone to just hold you while you cried, he decided to hold his tongue. He pulled you into his arms without question, letting you wet his chest with your spilled tears. And when he felt goosebumps prickle up on your skin, he covered both your naked bodies with a blanket and held you tighter. You finally fell asleep, your worries being absorbed by Yunho and his warm embrace, and Yunho couldn’t help but feel a little enraptured watching you sleep so peacefully in his arms. He’s had you in every way, in every position, seen every crevice of your beautiful body, but this. This is what he wanted most in the world. This is how he wanted you. And he hoped that by the next morning, that’s how you’d want him too. But when morning came, Yunho woke up alone, with nothing but the faint smell of roses on his pillowcase. When he asked you about it later that day on campus, you suddenly went cold and demanded he never bring it up again.

He thought about that night, your body, those Omar Apollo songs you showed him, the library study sessions, just every single moment that he’s ever spent with you, driving himself mad to the point where the desire for you would be overwhelming and too strong to ignore and he’d ultimately give in and crawl back into bed with you, allowing you to use him as you wanted, feeling again like a dog on your leash. It would feel good for a bit, until those same old feelings resurfaced and he’d call it off once again, repeating the never-ending cycle of your no strings attached relationship.

But this time, things were going to be different. He wasn’t going to continue this cycle. You weren’t good for him, and it was time he let go and move on. That’s why he packed all your stuff and came to drop them off. It was official. There was no going back from this. All he had to do now was stick to the plan. 

Yunho shifted the box to his side and used his free hand to knock on the door. He took a deep breath and counted in his head. 

One. 

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five-

The door swung open, interrupting his counting. You stood at the door frame in nothing but your bathrobe, your wet hair dripping puddles around your feet. Yunho was at a loss for words. This wasn’t part of the plan. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t prepare for this. He didn’t, sorry, couldn’t see you, because it would just make things harder. It was like flaunting a cigarette in front of someone who just quit smoking. He wasn’t strong enough to resist you. He was addicted to you and he worried that he would relapse again. 

“Oh, Yunho.” You acknowledged, crossing your arms over your chest. He held onto the box tighter, feeling himself twitch from the sound of you calling his name. You peered into the box, recognizing the articles of clothing and personal hygiene products. “Is that my stuff?” 

Yunho struggled at first, forgetting for a moment how to speak coherently. “Uh- yes, it is. I came to drop them off. Here.” He blubbered, pushing the box towards you. You took it from his hands, not expecting it to be so heavy. You didn’t realize you left so many things at his place. 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

A silence weighed in between you, both of you looking at each other awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. Right, Yunho thought to himself, there’s nothing left to say. You did your part, now walk right out. 

“Well, I should head back. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Yunho turned on his heel and made his way out of the long corridor. Part of him didn’t want to reach the end of the hall, but he pushed himself anyway, reminding himself over and over to not look back. As painful as it was, it needed to happen. It was for the best. 

“Wait,” You called after him. 

And just like that, Yunho immediately stopped in his tracks, not hesitating this time to turn around. It almost brought him some relief, like he had been holding his breath for too long, and now you finally gave him permission to exhale. “Yes?” He beamed.

You stepped out from the door frame and into the hall so you were right across from where Yunho stood. “Do you want to come in?”

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded, almost believing that he must have heard you wrong. 

“I mean, your stuff,” You clarified, “I still have some of your stuff in my apartment if you wanted to come in and grab them.” It was kind of pathetic, the way you tripped over your words, but you couldn’t bare saying goodbye just yet. No, you’re not catching feelings, you assured yourself. You just wanted him around you for a little bit longer. Maybe it was selfish of you to keep pulling on his leash like this, but for the moment, you didn’t care. 

“Oh, right. That would be great, actually.” 

-

Yunho knew he would hate himself for letting this happen. All that progress getting chucked out the window on account of his lack of self-control. But how could you blame him? With the way your damp strands curled around your flushed cheeks, the smell of your rosy shampoo that had been seared into his nostrils by now, and the fact that all he had to do was undue your robe to see your beautiful glistening body that was so ready for him to take. It was all so easy. You handed him the apple and all he had to do was take a bite. 

“Fuck, Yunho!” You cried out, grasping his bare back for dear life as he frantically thrust into you. He was angry, angry at himself that he let this happen again, and angry at you for making him so weak. He only put just the tip in, but you could’ve sworn you were seeing stars from the stretch alone. 

“Unbelievable,” He grunted. “Even after the hundred times we fucked, your little pussy still can’t take my cock?”

You’d never seen this side of Yunho. Usually, he was nice and gentle with you, always studying the arch of your brows to see if he was taking things too far or not. It was sweet at first, but sometimes you’d wish he’d just take you and fuck you like an animal. It seemed your wish was finally granted. “P-Please! All of it, I want all of it Yunho, please!” Was all you could muster out. 

He pulled out of you in an instant, and before you could whine, he forcibly flipped you over and pulled you back by your hips until your ass smacked into his pelvis. Yunho kept you down with his hand pressed against the space between your shoulder blades as he lined himself up with your aching center. 

Yunho rubbed himself against your slick folds, occasionally slapping his tip over your swollen clit, making your hips jolt with anticipation. “You want it all? ‘Guess those other guys don’t fill you up as much as you want, huh? Poor thing.” He continued dragging his cock over your folds, your soft whimpers only feeding into his ego. 

Just when he thought you had enough, he guided his cock into your hole, the stretch forcing you to tear up once again. You grasped at your bed sheets and pressed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the rest of him as your lips coated in salty tears. 

He pushed the rest of him into you with a struggle, his hips stagnant as he waited for you to adjust to his size. “Fuck!” You gasped, your voice cracking as he started up again. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and they didn’t fail to rip a moan out of you. 

His fingers, now coated with your essence, tweaked and twisted at your clit. It was all too much for you, really, the sheer length of him plowing into your walls, the brutal pace he set on account of his anger, along with the way he toyed at your clit. Yunho could sense you were close, having known your body long enough to know when you were about to be sent over the edge. He stopped teasing your bud and instead slipped his fingers past your lips and you readily let him in, swirling your tongue around his digits to clean yourself off him. He grinned to himself, pleased to see that you knew exactly what to do without any instruction. 

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out from you and cupped your jaw with his large hand, pulling you back until your head was against his chest, keeping your face there so you were forced to look up at him. He peered down at you with his full attention, completely engrossed by just how pretty and sinful you looked in this position. “Stay like that,” He breathed “‘wanna see you when you cum all over my cock.” 

He came first, your orgasm approaching soon after. You babbled incoherently as his cum flooded your walls, forcing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Yunho was completely enamored with you like this, your parted and swollen lips and your half-lidded eyelids almost making him shoot a second load into you. He disconnected from you and you fell forward onto the bed, catching your breath as you came down from your high. You felt dizzy and sweaty, and your head was so cloudy that you were unable to form a thought that wasn’t already so scrambled. As you relaxed, you felt Yunho’s breath over your hip right before he planted soft kisses on your lower back all the way up to your shoulder. His kisses were sweet and careful, almost like he was making up for being so rough with you. Soon enough, he retired from your shoulder and moved on to the side of your face, brushing his pillowy lips on your temple, to your wet eyes, to your cheek, until you craned your neck back and allowed him to meet your lips. 

It was almost foreign to you, to have someone care this deeply for you even after the act. None of your other partners behaved this way, and you were lucky if they even remembered to toss you a towel. But Yunho, he was different. He treated you as something more, and maybe it made you feel bad that you didn’t do the same for him. It was overwhelming, his soft kisses, his careful touches, the way he’d beg you to stay over, and the way he almost looked hurt when you say you can’t. Poor Yunho. He was in love with you, and you knew it. You hated yourself for toying with a man with good intentions. But what was the alternative? You couldn’t be his, and he couldn’t be yours. You made a promise to yourself years ago that you’d never be foolish enough to fall in love ever again. This had to stop, you should’ve stopped it months ago, but you were selfish. And lonely. The guilt you’ve been bottling up inside of you was too much to handle, and you knew you had to do something before you exploded.

Feeling disgusted with yourself, you pulled away from his lips. Yunho raised a brow at the sudden gesture. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his slightly concerned tone making your heart shatter into pieces. 

“You should get going. It’s late.” You got up, forcing Yunho to pull off of you. He watched you as you went over to your dresser to pull out a fresh pair of pajamas, completely dumbfounded by your sudden coldness. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He scoffed.

You shook your head, picking up his t-shirt that lay on the floor and tossing it over to him. His eyes flickered in anger and he threw his shirt back on the ground. “I don’t understand, why do you always do this!?” 

You stayed quiet, quickly covering yourself before turning around to face him, keeping your eyes low, feeling too ashamed to meet his. “I’m sorry, but I need you to go.” 

Yunho clenched his jaw. How could you be so cold? How could you invite him in, only to toss him out so abruptly? He thought about how you melted right into his embrace, how you kissed him back with the same amount of passion that he kissed you with. Was any of it real? Or was he too infatuated to notice that you were playing him, again? 

“Why? Is Yeosang coming over? Do you really think that guy cares about you?”

You balled your fists up at the mention of Yeosang. “Stop.” You warned.

“And San? He’d fuck anything with two legs and a heartbeat. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Yunho, that’s exactly what I want!” You snapped. A silence weighed in before Yunho’s lips curled up in an unexpected smile. 

“What?” You teethed. 

He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t know what you want. That’s why you keep coming back to me.” 

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, a crooked smile now spread across your lips. “No, it’s you that keeps coming back to me.” You jeered. 

“And you let me! Why do you let me!? Time after time, you take me back without question, why?”

You crossed your arms and looked away from his direction. You felt hot, like the blood in your veins was boiling. You didn’t want to deal with this. You felt stupid for letting him in. Yunho always had questions, so many questions, and you couldn’t give him any answers. Fed up with your silence, Yunho got up and walked towards you, almost closing the gap between you two. You still didn’t look at him. 

“And that night. Why did you come to me? Why didn’t you go to your other boyfriends? You were so different. Why did you act like it never happened the next day?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your expression softened remembering that night. It was so cold and rainy that night, and Yunho felt so warm. He made you feel so loved, so cared for, and for once you felt like you deserved someone like him. But the morning sun gave you some clarity, and you were reminded once again of what happens when you fully give your heart to someone. Yunho didn’t see it now, but he’ll understand it one day. Love is a wasted emotion. It gives and gives, until one day it takes everything back from you, and more. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed. 

That wasn’t good enough for him. He took another step forward, the tips of your noses now just centimeters away from each other. “I’ll tell you why,” He said, his voice softer than earlier. “It’s because you like me. It’s because I’m the only one who really understands you, the only one who sees more to you than just your body. That’s why you keep taking me back. It’s why you came to me that night. You knew you could be vulnerable with me, and that I wouldn’t turn you away, because-” He paused for a moment to lick his lips. “Because I like you too, y/n.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you tried to ignore the sting so that you wouldn’t blink and force them to run down your cheeks. Your chest felt like it was engulfed in flames, making your breathing unsteady. You were too caught up in your emotions to realize that Yunho closed the gap and pressed his lips onto yours, his hands firmly placed at your waist. 

He always kissed you like he wasn’t going to see you for a while. Maybe it was a force of habit considering all the times Yunho had ended things between you two. Or maybe, as he said, he liked you, and he wanted you to know from his touch if his words didn’t suffice. It felt right kissing him, real. Not like all the other times with your boy toys, who only kissed you because that’s just what came naturally when you're both rolling around naked in bed. Yunho never only kissed you on the lips, but everywhere else as well, your eyes, cheeks, forehead, and just every feature of you that made his heart swell and anywhere he could put his lips on if you let him. 

It was so easy. All you had to do was wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, leave this no strings attached bullshit behind, and let him lead the way. But you were reminded, reminded of him again, the one who took your heart and snapped it into two, the one who lead you to keep people at a distance and hurt them before they hurt you. That’s what you needed to do now, you told yourself. You had to hurt him. It made your heart ache even thinking of hurting Yunho, but you would be doing him a favor, even if he didn’t realize it now. You were damaged goods, not fit for sale. He’d be better off.

You pushed your hands on his chest to get him off you. Yunho, looking at you with such hope and hurt in his eyes, holding onto your hands that you used to keep him at a distance. He didn’t say anything, instead waiting for you to explain. 

Your eyes were down at your feet, too afraid to look him in the eye and say your next words. “I’m sorry Yunho, but I just don’t feel the same.” 

Yunho didn’t speak for a while. You wanted to look up at him, but you knew that seeing his reaction would crush you. You told yourself not to look. It was easier this way. 

“You don’t mean that.” Yunho kept his voice steady, even though he could feel a slight lump forming in his throat. “I know you feel the same, y/n.” 

You shook your head and a few droplets of tears splashed onto the carpet and onto your toes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.” 

His hands let go of yours and he immediately brushed his fingers under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up. “You really don’t feel what I feel? Then why don’t you look at me and say it?” 

He gazed down at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his, getting impatient with you when they didn’t. “Look at me and say you don’t want me.”

Overwhelmed, you moved your head around and pushed him off of you, too consumed in your rage to realize that for once that night, you were finally meeting his eyes. 

“I don’t want you. I never cared for you. You were just a distraction. Whatever you think was going on, it’s not true. You don’t know me, you don’t know what’s going on in my head, so don’t act as you do! For the love of god Yunho, just get the fuck out!” 

You panted after letting your frustrations out, the room now silent again. Nothing could have prepared you for the look on Yunho’s face right now. His sweet face was painted in constraint, his once cheery and sparkling brown eyes now glossy and downcast. You could feel your heart being ripped out of your chest, and for a moment you wanted to rush over to him and tell him you didn’t mean it, that you’ll do whatever he wants, be whatever he wants, as long as he stops making that face, but your legs stayed immobile and the words tangled up in your throat.

Yunho looked at you for a while, waiting to see if you would take those words back, but you never did. Swallowing the painful lump in his throat, he picked up his shirt from the floor and got dressed. You leaned back on your dresser, watching him as he put on his coat and slipped on his shoes. There was so much time to say something, anything, but neither of you uttered a word, and Yunho understood now that he said all that he needed to say, and that he couldn’t change your mind, even if he tried. 

He was now at your entry door, and you followed behind him, staying back a couple of feet as you prepared to watch him leave your life once and for all. As he held onto the knob, he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it, and went on with turning the knob, his tall frame disappearing behind the closing door. 

You wanted to crawl into a ball and cry right there on the floor, but you stayed strong. You’re not crying over a guy again, you promised yourself. Even if it hurts…It’s for the best.

-

Finals were almost over, and the Library was seeing a reduction in visitors. The staff was partly relieved, enjoying the empty space and not having to be bothered to tell students to be quiet, confiscate their Cheeto bags (even though there’s a bold NO EATING sign at almost every table), and wake up tired students from their naps to tell them the library was closing. But there was one visitor who came almost daily and sat at the same exact spot in the same exact section. The Historical Fiction section.

The librarians didn’t know what his deal was. He’d come in with absolutely nothing, no backpack, no laptop, no textbook. They even doubted he brought his phone. Sometimes, he’d take a book off the historical fiction shelf and crack it open, although, unbeknownst to the library staff, he wasn’t actually reading anything. He tried to, but then his head would get fuzzy and he’d get lost in thought, his eyes darting around every time he heard the Library door open or footsteps approach his section, only for it to be another student or a staff member, and when he’d sigh and look back down at his book, he’d forget where he left off and start from the beginning again.

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter to him what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the Library where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would just pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and you’d lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows.

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the place where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would just pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and you’d lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows.

-

Finals were almost over, and the Library was seeing a reduction in visitors. The staff was partly relieved, enjoying the empty space and not having to be bothered to tell students to be quiet, confiscate their Cheeto bags (even though there’s a bold NO EATING sign at almost every table), and wake up tired students from their naps to tell them they were closing. But there was one visitor who came almost daily and sat at the same exact spot in the same exact section like clockwork. The Historical Fiction section. 

The librarians didn’t know what his deal was. He’d come in with absolutely nothing, no backpack, no laptop, and no textbook to indicate if he was taking a summer class at least. Sometimes, he’d take a book off the historical fiction shelf and crack it open, although, unbeknownst to the library staff, he wasn’t actually reading anything. He tried to, but then his head would get fuzzy and he’d get lost in thought, his eyes darting around every time he heard the Library door open or footsteps approach his section, only for it to be another student or a staff member, and when he’d sigh and look back down at his book, he’d forget where he left off and start from the beginning again. 

They didn’t know he was waiting on a girl. If they did, they would probably feel bad for him, and maybe even find his efforts to be a little pathetic. But to Yunho, it didn’t matter what they thought. Being the tortured romantic that he was, he still had hope that you two would be together again. He wasn’t going to crawl back to you like all the other times. Instead, he was going to wait. He believed the day would come where you’d grow sick from your passing relationships and realize your true feelings for him. And when you realize that, you’ll come running to the Library where you two first met, and you would find him there, sitting at your table in your special little corner of the Library. He’d greet you with a friendly smile, and pull out a chair for you, and you two would pick up where you left off as if nothing else ever happened. Maybe then he’d take you out on a real date, maybe to a fancy restaurant which neither of you could pronounce the name of, and afterward, you’d crash at his place and lay in his arms just as you did that night, and he’d whisper corny jokes into your hair, both of you laughing softly until you finally fell asleep. Maybe, after a while of sleeping over, you’d take a liking to his idea of moving into a small and cramped apartment on the outskirts of the city, where there’s no one around to bother you except each other. Maybe. Who knows. 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Feysand x f!reader: All Wrapped in One[*]

A/N: This started as feyre x reader but of course it would end up becoming a poly fic

Warnings: oral (f! Receiving), daemati shenanigans

Word Count: 2,173

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Her hands wrap around your middle, soft lips pressing a greeting kiss to the side of your neck.

The scent of warm spices fill the cozy space, wreaths of evergreen stitched through with sequinned pine cones and glittering red baubles, lines of sparkling tinsel and tinted, warm fae lights glowing about the ceiling’s edge. Mince pies that had been dropped off a day prior by your mate’s sister sit concealed beneath a glass dome, crystallised to look like frost at the base, to keep them fresh as the day they were baked.

“Morning,” she murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin, pressing a small trail of nips and licks gradually edging toward the neckline of one of her paint-flecked shirts. A thrill tingles down your spine, softening into her arms, quickly forgetting whatever task you had been preoccupying yourself with. “Morning,” you reply, tilting your head slightly to one side, allowing her more access to the pleasurable area.

“You’re up early,” you mumble, shifting to turn in her arms, wanting to see her in that soft sleepy state she’s often wrapped in during the initial hour of waking. She allows it, elegant hands remaining comfortably on your wait, keeping your chest flush to her own, adorned in a deep blue woollen piece, some tiny snowflakes stitched in beautiful silver thread with tiny beads at their centre to appear more festive.

Rosy lips pull into a smile, nose bumping your own, eyes warm with tender adoration. “The bed was cold,” she murmurs, “was wondering where you were.” Her hands pull you a little tighter, and you catch a hint of her scent, warmth fluttering between your thighs. You avert your eyes, hands settling on her shoulders, trying to distract her as a flush begins to rise across your skin. “We should wait until Rhys gets home,” you reason, back curving a little with need, the simple hint of her desire for you enough to have your body reacting with equal want.

She hums absently, eyes dipping to your mouth with interest, clearly not having heard you. Lightly calloused fingertips swipe experimentally across the plushness of your lower lip, eyes flicking to her blue-grey set that are slightly glazed. “Feyre…” you mumble, muffled from her playing with your mouth. “Did you hear me?” You ask, an embarrassed flush settling beneath your skin.

Her eyes clear, sparking with a wicked gleam that has your legs feeling like custard. The edges of her rosy lips quirk, and you feel yourself melting, heat liquefying between your thighs. “Rhys says it’s fine,” she murmurs over your mouth, hands sneaking down over the curve of your hind, cupping and squeezing with appreciation before dropping a little lower. “So long as he gets his share this evening and all tomorrow,” she finishes, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, a flick of magic clearing the surface so she can perch you atop it, settling between your thighs. A soft sound of surprise spills from your mouth, fingers pressing into the plush wool over her shoulders as she gently pushes your thighs apart.

Of course, Rhys had decided to take a day off from his business as the High Lord, putting aside the work Feyre’s still in the process of learning how to do. Teeth push to the inside of your lip at the thought of having them both around for an entire day—and hopefully more since the festivities have already commenced.

Her mouth settles over yours eagerly, and a quiet moan escapes your chest, her hands now freely roaming across your body, dipping beneath the hem of the paint-splattered shirt. Goosebumps prickle your skin with sensitivity, keyed to her touch as she explores the soft curve of your stomach, slowly making her way higher. When she dips to your neck, you melt like a marshmallow in a hot mug of cocoa, dissolving beneath the tender touch of your mate.

“Feyre…” you moan softly, hands pawing at the thick wool keeping her concealed from you. “Shouldn’t we… We should go somewhere else for this,” you manage to get out between the pleasure of the hot kisses she’s splaying across your throat. She seems intent on taking you right there though, despite being atop a counter in the snugly lit kitchen. “Feyre…” you repeat, hands threading in her hair, legs spreading wider despite trying to pull her away.

“What’s wrong with here?” She asks, encouraging your legs to squeeze her tight, wanting to feel how much you want her. “It’s the kitchen,” you reason quietly, unable to quite look away from her heated blue-grey eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this in here.” Her gaze pins you with desire, keeping you still as she slowly pushes the hem of her shirt up over your thighs, practically tempting you to try denying her. You tighten around nothing at the actions, feeling how arousal has no doubt begun seeping through your underwear already.

“I think this is the perfect place,” she murmurs, leaning closer, rosy lips brushing your own teasingly, and you’re struck by the desire to have them playing with your breasts, skilful tongue flicking over the peaks of your nipples. “The kitchen is where food gets prepared isn’t it?” She asks lowly, fingers dipping into the band of your underthings, snapping it against your hip, pulling lightly on the string so it drags against your needy clit, lips parting on a silent breath. “And I’m going to spend the day getting you all nice and ready for us to enjoy tonight,” she drawls softly, pushing you back onto the counter, so your spine is laying flat against the cool marble.

It knocks any and all remaining fight from your body, content to let her use and explore to her pleasure. You swallow heavily as she smiles from between your legs, eyes glinting with heat as she slowly drags the cotton up over your stomach to reveal your soaking underwear. The smile widens with hunger, her fingers settling at the apex of your thighs before lightly trailing down, until she reaches the soft dip. Applies a slight pressure, watching as your back arches from the surface, hips shifting as you attempt to squirm lower, to have her fingers inside of you, pulling the sweet, sugar-dusted noises from your lips.

“Do you want me?” She asks teasingly, playing idly with the band of your underwear, dragging the tips of her fingers over your sensitive skin. “Feyre…” you groan, need building to the point of aches between your legs. You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s set her mind on edging you all day. If she decides to keep you from cumming until Rhys gets home… You had been the one to insist on trying to wait.

“Please,” you whine, pushing your legs wider in desperate invitation, nails biting into the softness of your palms. “Want you so badly, please.” Her lips part in a smile, hunger gleaming in blue-grey eyes, lowering between your legs as she takes the band of your underwear in her teeth, fingers hooking over the strings at your hips to help as she drags them down. Starving hunger intensifies in her gaze when she lays sights on your dripping wet heat, tongue swiping out to soothe the sudden dryness of her mouth.

A low curse rasps from her chest before she’s leaning forward, dragging her tongue up your centre, relishing in your taste, memorising the arch of your spine, how happily you put your legs over her shoulders, pressing the cotton-socked soles of your feet lightly against her back, raising your hips. Moans start spilling freely from your lips, enjoying the wet heat of her mouth once it’s sealed over your cunt, tongue swirling and suckling at your aching clit, giving you the attention you’ve been craving ever since she put her hands on you earlier.

A quiet laugh flutters from her lips, and you manage enough strength to push up onto your forearms, weakly peering down at her. “Rhys told you to open wider,” she drawls, and wild heat bursts across your skin. Look away shyly as you push your thighs to settle further apart on your mate’s shoulders, dipping your head at the thought of him watching through feyre’s eyes. What an intimate view he has.

Talons gently graze down your flimsy mental walls, and your back arches as Rhys slips inside your head, able to watch from whichever perspective he’d like.

You’re making concentration rather difficult over here.

A pleasurable shiver spider-walks up your spine at his deep, honeyed voice, roughened with arousal. Teeth push into your lip, desperate to have them both with you.

Feyre said you told it was fine… You send back softly—a little shakily, not entirely used to speaking like this. A low laugh drags through your sensitive shields, talons leisurely gazing inside your mind.

She told me she’d be having you on the kitchen countertop, and to get done with work if I wanted a taste before she tires you out.

Between your thighs, Feyre shoots you a grin, seemingly aware of the conversation going on, and a small moan flutters from your chest. Heat flushes your skin, but you make your reply anyway.

I can’t say I disagree with her…

Within your mind, you feel something shift, as if able to feel the build of his own arousal, awareness spearing directly to you to provide more stimulation.

I really have my hands full between the two of you.

I bet you do, High Lord, Feyre drawls, having joined without you noticing. Her tongue presses at your entrance, and you tighten eagerly, urging her for more.

Rhys groans lowly, and you feel your vision going in and out of focus as his arousal becomes more intense in your mind, the two of them curling together with you, making you dizzy with pleasure. An image appears in your mind, Feyre’s fingers slipping inside you in the same moment and you feel yourself reaching the curve of your high, where you’ll soar a little higher before making the pleasurable free-fall.

The High Lord does indeed have his hands full, one steadily holding the arm of his chair, the other stroking himself firmly, a pearly bead of precum nestled at his tip.

What you wouldn’t give to be on your knees before him—flick your tongue over the moisture there.

Your lips part, back arching as he takes a little of your control, moving your hand to graze across the softness of your stomach, hundreds of tiny muscles fluttering beneath the feather-light touch. His name moans from your lips as he makes you move higher, slipping beneath the hem of the shirt, reaching up to palm your breast, and you know he’s taking in every sensation.

Breaths turn shallow, wild heat bursting through your lower abdomen as Feyre’s fingers touch a spot inside of you, seemingly having been searching for it. Lips part in sheer pleasure as you reach that peak, tipping over the edge while she suckles at your sensitive clit, Rhys directing both your hands to palm your breasts, playing with your nipples as he floods your mind with filthy memories, filling you with touches, and scents, and tastes, utterly overwhelming as you babble.

Toes curl at her back, helping press her deeper to your heat as she continues working you within an inch of your life, fingers grazing those spots teasingly, mouth sealed over your heat so she can focus on your clit, easing you down from the high.

You pant heavily, needing to recover from the sheer intensity they’d put you through, muscles beginning to relax after being pulled taut with pleasure.

There you go. So good for us, aren’t you?

Your back arches at the rough drag of Rhys’ voice within your sensitive mind, tongue swiping over your lower lip. Blue-grey eyes latch on your own as she rises from between your legs, and your mouth has already opened by the time she lays her own atop it. Arousal mixes between you, one of her hands sliding beneath your shirt to graze across your nipple, playing with the sensitive peak.

Better get home soon Rhys, Feyre drawls across the bond, lifting herself up onto the counter in a single swift movement, and you hear him sigh with what you can only imagine is exasperation. A smile spreads across your features at the intimate sound, more than happy to shuffle further up the counter to give her space to move. Licking your lips eagerly as she crawls to settle her thighs either side your head, pulling her underwear to the side.

You two really are something, aren’t you?

As if to prove him right, you hook your arms over her hips, pulling her down onto your mouth while still feeling him in your mind, his arousal already building despite just having been relieved.

Hurry back, you send across softly, lapping at her entrance.

Then you can deal with us.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

feysand taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza08

[endthedream]

5 1/2 coffees to love

pairing: barista!jungwon x customer!reader (she/her)

summary: When Jungwon finds out you hate coffee, he makes a bet with you that he will be able to make you fall in love with coffee. But what if you fall in love with him instead?

words: 15.3k

story colour: yellow

notes: This is for my fellow coffee haters and probably the fluffiest fluff I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy this story and always remember to spread kindness!🪽

masterlist of enhypen as jobs

Coffee.  A beverage brewed from the roasted and ground seeds of the tropical evergreen coffee plant. One of the top three beverages in the whole world.

And you hate it. You absolutely despise it. The bitter taste, the obnoxious smell. Everything about it makes you want to take whatever plant it comes from and destroy it forever.

Okay, maybe you’re just being a bit dramatic. But still, you don’t get how people actually enjoy that drink.

When you first tried coffee, you were 5 years old. You saw your mom drink it every day and as a curious child, you wanted to try it too. So, when your mom wasn’t watching, you grabbed her cup and drank a sip. Almost immediately your face scrunched up in disgust and you let out a small yelp.

“Oh sweetheart.”, your mom cooed, taking the cup from you. “You’re too young to like coffee. But believe me when you’re older you will like it just as much a mommy does.”

The second time was when you got into high school. The sudden pressure and the amount of homework kept you up a lot, so you thought that coffee might help you with the tiredness. You even went as far as to go all the way to a coffee shop to get professionally made coffee. And still the moment you got back home, ready to take a sip and stay up all night to study, you learned yet again that coffee isn’t something for you.

The third and until now last time, was when you met your best friend. Sunoo and you met up in your first year of college. The two of you immediately got along and now you’re not only best friends, but also roommates. The only problem is, Sunoo is a vivid coffee lover. He claims to not be able to get through the day without coffee. You heard him praise the beverage every day and since you were older and more mature, you thought that maybe now you will like it. But once again you were wrong. Not even Sunoo’s special preparation could change your opinion on coffee.

So, now you’re here. In your second year of college, sitting at the kitchen table, trying to study, and having to endure the obnoxious smell that lingers around the apartment.

“I swear, if you make that face again while I enjoy my coffee, I will pour it on you.”, your best friend speaks up from his seat on the couch.

“I just don’t get how you can drink that, Sunoo. What is there to enjoy about?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes and walks over to where you sit at the kitchen table. He puts his cup down in front of you, on purpose, and takes a place on the other chair.

“You just haven’t had good coffee before.”, he states with an innocent smile on his face.

Good coffee? Does good coffee even exist? You doubt it.

“Honestly, I gave up on liking coffee and so should you. I mean, not on liking coffee, but on forcing it upon me. There are other things I can drink. Like a good hot chocolate or Red Bull if I need some caffein. And see it as something positive. It just means more coffee for you.”

Your best friend shrugs at your answer, already used to your stubborn side and knowing that it has no use trying to start a discussion with you about that subject. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There is nothing you hate more than exam week. Not only is your head exploding from all the knowledge you have to force into it, but the lack of sleep you’re getting is making you look and also act like a zombie.

But it’s over. Well, at least until the next exam week starts, but that’s for your future you to worry about. All you want to do is go home, change into comfortable clothes, and spend the whole weekend sleeping.

„Let’s go into a café.”, your best friend says the moment you get into your shared apartment.

“What?”

“Let’s go into a café.”, he repeats himself, taking your bag from you and tossing it on the couch. “Come on, it’s fun. A friend of mine is working there, and I always wanted to check it out. He’s working today and I just know the two of you will get along.”

“You have friends?”, you ask amused, throwing yourself on the couch with a groan. “Besides that, I just had the worst week of my life and all I want to do is sleep.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes, before sitting down beside you, taking your arms and making you sit up, which you did but not without letting out some protesting whines. “First of all, I do have friends, thank you very much. And second, that’s exactly why we should go out. You need some distraction and I’ve heard that the café makes the best hot chocolate and strawberry cake.”

You can’t deny that that offer sounds good. So, with a few mumbles of complaint, you stand up and walk towards your room.

“What are you doing?”, Sunoo asks, watching you leave.

“Changing. Which you should too, so we can leave soon.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

The moment you step into the café, you are thankful that Sunoo made you come here. The smell of fresh baked goods overpowers all the sleepiness in your body. You can almost ignore the smell of coffee. But just almost.

The café itself is rather small, but one of the prettiest things you’ve ever seen. The place is filled with a lot of green plants, fairy lights on the yellow walls and couches on the side. The tables are decorated with cute yellow napkins and behind the counter where the machines and the display window with the cakes in it are, hangs a little sign reading ‘today is your day’. It has you smiling a bit, loving the positive and comfortable atmosphere in this little space.

The yellow theme makes it even better. While yellow isn’t particularly your favorite color, it works as a little happy.

“Wow, Sunoo, this is the coolest place I’ve ever seen. Why didn’t you bring me here earlier?”

Your best friend admires your beaming face, having been worried the whole week about your wellbeing. Sunoo knows that once you want something, you do everything possible to achieve it. In this case it’s good grades. He knows how hard you study to be on top of your class and how you will neglect every important thing in your life to get this achievement. Important things like sleeping, eating and your social contacts.

“I’m glad you like it, Y/n. Oh look, there is Jungwon.” You follow the eyes of Sunoo to spot a young boy talking to an elderly woman. He is leaning down, intensively listening to what the woman is saying and smiling politely at her. You immediately notice the dimples that form on his cheeks. Cute.

“Let’s sit down and wait until Jungwon can take our order.” The café is mostly empty, aside for the older woman. And you’re thankful for that. Crowded spaces aren’t exactly your preferred type of place to hang out.

Sitting down with Sunoo at a nice table gives you some time to look around the café yet again. Somehow with every time you look around, you see something new appearing in the small space. A new detail that makes this café even more adorable. Like the small sundae formed out of clay that sits on top of the counter. Or the picture of a croissant sitting in front of the Eiffel Tour while drinking a coffee hanging on the wall. You also notice the way all the plants are in perfect order, not one stands out of line or is overgrown. They are perfectly trimmed and look like they get watered regularly. The yellow napkins are formed into little butterflies with a small chocolate treat on them. They too are perfect. Folded so precisely, you swear that if you just had to make one, you would have lost your nerves. But what is yet the sweetest and also most considered thing, is the little mental health cards all over the room. Small cards with different quotes, positive affirmations and motivations on them. You swear that you just walked into heaven. How can this place be so perfect and yet not overfilled with people?

“I’m sorry for the wait.”, a voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Oh! Hey, Sunoo! You really came.” Looking up, you see Jungwon smiling at your friend.

“Of course! I could not miss out on this place. And you didn’t lie, it’s amazing. Right Y/n?” Suddenly the attention of both men is on you.

All you can do is nod, giving a quick thumbs up.

“Y/n? You must be Sunoo’s best friend. He talks a lot about you.”, Jungwon exclaims, giving you a sweet smile. Damn, that really is his charm.

“You talk about me?”, you ask your friend with raised eyebrows. “I knew it. You are obsessed with me.”

Sunoo lets out a scoff. “Don’t let it get to your head. I’m just mentioning the person I’m literally living with.”

Before the two of you can continue to argue, Jungwon gets in between. “What can I get for you? Have you decided on something to order?”

“I want a mint chocolate mocha and chocolate cake.”, Sunoo says, beaming up at Jungwon.

“Well, for me a hot chocolate and a strawberry cake.”

Jungwon writes your orders down on a little notebook that he carries around in his apron. “Your order will be here soon.”

You watch as he leaves, truly captivated by him. That doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. “What’s got you so kept up?”

“Hm?”

Your friend can’t help but chuckle as he looks at your confused face. “Oh, someone has a little crush on Jungwon.”

“What? No. I just met him five minutes ago.”, you exclaim, shaking your head.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t find him cute.”

Well, maybe you do think he is cute. How can you not? The small dimples that appear whenever he smiles, the cute cat-like features he has and the kindness he carried the moment you stepped into the café. Maybe it does sound like you do have a crush on him, but that’s not the case. You could never catch feelings for someone this fast. You were never a believer of love at first sight, even if you call yourself a hopeless romantic. For you love is something that blossoms over time. It’s built up from trust and trust can only be formed with a lot of time passing by. It’s built on respect from both sides. Without that love is simply not possible, so you won’t even consider it. Not with someone you met a few minutes ago.

“A mocha and chocolate cake for you, Sunoo and hot chocolate and a strawberry cake for you, Y/N. I hope you enjoy it.”, Jungwon speaks in a gentle voice as he puts your orders on the small table in front of you.

“Do you have a few minutes to spare?”, Sunoo asks Jungwon, already taking a bite of his cake.

“Yeah, there isn’t a lot going on at the moment, so I think I have a few minutes. Why?”

“I thought maybe you can join me and Y/n, so we can talk and catch up a bit. And you two can get to know each other a bit more.”

“Sure, why not.”, Jungwon agrees, sitting down on the empty chair between you and Sunoo.

“How’s English Lit going?”, he asks Sunoo who in return lets out a deep sigh.

“Same old. Mr Walker is still as mean as ever.”

Now it’s your turn to let out a sigh. “God, don’t even let me get started.”

“Why?”, Jungwon asks. “You’re in the class too?”

“In the class? No, I’m suffering through it.”, you frustratingly munch on your cake before continuing. “I cannot stress enough how this man should not be a teacher. Don’t get me wrong, he can explain good and has so much knowledge, but when it comes to human interactions or empathy, this man is lost. You know how in English Lit we are supposed to discuss English literature and also express criticism towards it, which leads to discuss and so on. Whenever someone criticizes something or even just expresses their opinions, he declines it and continues his lesson. He gives us no room to voice our thoughts. He just does his thing and goes.

“And the assignments. They are longer than my will to live, I can tell you that much. I spent so many sleepless nights writing and doing research and what do I get? Nothing. He just grades it and sends it back, no comments, no helpful tips, just the grade and that’s it. I’m honestly so sick of it. I want all my hours of sleep back.” Dramatically you let your head fall on your arms, realizing a little whine.

“Sorry.”, Sunoo says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We just had exam week and she is exhausted. And well, since she doesn’t drink coffee to keep her awake, she pretty much could fall asleep anywhere at this rate.”

“You don’t drink coffee?”, Jungwon asks, his voice laces with a bit of shock.

“Nope.”, you state, lifting your head up again. “Hate it. Worst drink in the whole wide world. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Infuriating.”

Jungwon lays a hand on his heart, gasping loudly. “How can you say that to a Barista? Coffee is the best thing this world has ever experienced.”

You just roll your eyes, taking a huge sip of your hot chocolate out of spite. “I highly doubt that. But I can’t argue with coffee lovers. You guys are strangely stubborn.” You give Sunoo a pointed look to which he just sticks his tongue.

“Believe me. Try one of my coffee’s and you will change your mind.”

“Don’t even try.”, Sunoo intervenes. “I’ve been trying for over a year to get her to like coffee, but she just won’t. You will just waste your time.”

“Oh no, believe me. I can make her like coffee.”

You let out a laugh, which sounds more like a scoff. “Nice try, but I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, then let’s make a bet. If I can make you fall in love with coffee, you will have to do something for me.”

“And if you don’t?”, you ask.

“Then I will have to do something for you. Anything you want.”

“Anything I want?” It’s a good deal, you think, but is it worth it having to drink a lot of coffee?

“I don’t have the time to come to your café every day.”

“Well, then how about once a week? It gives me time to perfect my coffee creations and give you the best versions of it.”, Jungwon grins, holding his hand out for you. “Do we have a deal?”

You sigh, taking his hand in yours and giving it a firm shake. You would do anything to prove to a coffee lover that coffee isn’t that great. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t! Just see, you will become a coffee lover!”

☕1: Mocha

Rain. There is something so comforting about rain. The way it feels when soft, cold droplets of it fall on your heated skin. Relaxing your muscles and making you feel like you’re floating on top of a cloud into paradise where all your worries in life disappear and you can just exist. The smell, how it creeps up your whole body and makes you want to stop and take it in until even the dwell of it disappears. And you don’t mind that you come home with soaked clothes and wet hair. You don’t mind the coldness that lingers on your skin. Because the moment you dried your hair, changed your clothes, and got yourself a cup of tea, you can sit in front of your window and watch how the streets get washed up from the rain. You observe the cars driving into puddles and splashing the water in every direction. You watch as a couple, sharing an umbrella, walks past your apartment building, arms wrapped around each other to keep the other one warm from the coldness of the rain. And you look at the rain drops on your window, betting in your head on which one will win the race, happy when yours won and disappointed, when you focused on the wrong one.

You wrap your blanket around you tighter, as you hear the door to your apartment open. Knowing it’s Sunoo, you stand up, tiptoeing out of your bedroom.

“It really had to rain today.”, you hear him complain. “Out of all days.”

You snicker a bit, watching how he tries to fix his wet hair in the mirror of your hallway. “Don’t laugh at me.”, he speaks up, pouting in your direction. “Not all of us are rain lovers.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Rain is awesome.”

Sunoo walks into the kitchen, taking out the rest of the Chinese food the two of you ordered yesterday. “Yeah, when you sit at home and don’t get wet.” He puts it on a plate and into the microwave. “Want some too?”

“No, I will pass.”, you say, heaving yourself on top of the kitchen counter. “I will save my hunger for later. I want to eat another strawberry cake when I go to the café.”

“Oh right.”, the boy exclaims, taking out the plate and digging into his food. “You’re meeting up with Jungwon today. Excited? Nervous? Giddy?”

You pull your eyebrows into a frown. “Why should I? I’m just fulfilling my side of the bet.”

“Yeah, and also meeting up with a super cute boy. I saw you looking at him. You definitely find him cute.”

You roll your eyes, jumping down from the kitchen counter and walking back into your room. “Cute or not, I’m just there to proof him wrong.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Entering the café, you are immediately overcome with the same tranquility as last week. Insane how one place can make you feel so at ease.

“You made it!”, you hear a familiar voice exclaim. You look up to see Jungwon behind the counter. He’s dressed in a white shirt with blue pants and his apron on. You notice the little print lingering on the left side of his chest. ‘Café Sunshine’. Last week you didn’t look at the café’s name, just amazed by the unique furniture, but it definitely makes sense why the café is named that way. Despite the rain you feel like you have stepped into the definition of sunshine.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. My bus driver thought it was necessary to talk to another bus driver for 5 minutes.”, you roll your eyes, sitting down at the same table you sat at last week.

“Don’t worry. Because of the rain no one came in today, so I had a lot of time to perfect your drink.”

You nod at him, showing him a slight unsure smile. Being honest with yourself, you have to admit that you’re a bit scared. It’s been a long time since you last tried coffee and trying it in front of someone who makes coffee as a living is intimidating you. You don’t want to be rude if you don’t like it. Despite loving to prove coffee lovers wrong, Jungwon is still mostly a stranger to you. A really friendly one as well.

“Okay, but please don’t be too disappointed. I really don’t want you to put so much time in it just for me to hate it.”

He just smiles at you, his dimples on full display. “Y/n, don’t worry, okay? I love making coffee and you just give me a reason to practice more, that’s all. And if you don’t like it, I will just finish your drink.”

You let out a deep breath, that you weren’t aware you were holding, clearly relieved at Jungwon’s reassurance.

“So,”, he says, putting the coffee down in front of you. “this is a Mocha. It’s a variation made from espresso, hot milk, and liquid chocolate. I even put a little cream topping on it to make it look cuter. And the same chocolate and high milk content makes the Mocha taste very mild and sweet. I gathered that you might dislike coffee because of the bitterness, so this is a great start.”

You listen to everything Jungwon tells you and you have to admit, it makes you smile a bit. He really put a lot of thought into making a coffee that might match your taste.

“Thank you, Jungwon.”, you say, grabbing the cup with one hand. You can’t lie, it looks pretty good, and the chocolate almost covers the smell of coffee. But just almost.

“Y/n.”, Jungwon calls out your name, making you look right into his worried eyes. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. You know that, right? I know we have a bet, but I would never force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You show Jungwon a smile, appreciating his kindness. You swear this boy couldn’t get even more perfect.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, I’m just scared of the taste. Last time I drank coffee I had a full on fit and had to drink a liter of milk to make the taste go away.” That earns you a little chuckle from the boy sitting in front of you.

“I have an idea.”, he says, standing up and walking back to the counter. He grabs a plate and puts a piece of the strawberry cake you ate last week on it. Walking back to you, Jungwon puts the plate down in front of you and takes a seat again.

“Here.”, he says showing you his dimpled smile. “I saw you enjoying this cake last week. If you don’t like the coffee and need to get the taste away, just eat the cake.”

“I like your way of thinking.”, you state in a teasing voice.

You grab the mug once again, this time taking a small sip. The first thing you taste is the strong flavor of chocolate, but sadly that isn’t lasting long. Because two seconds later the espresso makes itself present on the flavor buds in your mouth. And while it’s not strong, you still shudder slightly at the bitterness.

Jungwon watches the whole scene, amusement clearly written all over his face. “That bad?”

“No, it’s not bad. I mean, it’s not good either. It’s just the bitterness.”, you answer, already shoving a spoon of cake into your mouth.

“You’re really a tough case, huh?”, Jungwon remarks, leaning his head on one hand, watching you with his cat-like eyes.

“Warned you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”, you shrug, sighing at the welcoming sweetness of the strawberries. “Want to just call it quits and admit that you won’t get me to like coffee?”

“What?”, Jungwon exclaims, eyes wide and mouth agape in fake shock. “Calling it quits? Never. Darling, this is just the beginning of this journey.”

☕2: Cappuccino

Jungwon wasn’t kidding when he told you that this was just the beginning. For the whole week he kept on texting you, sending you different designs of coffee and hyping up his recipes. He told you he is trying even harder to make you like the next one but when you tried to get some hints regarding the next coffee, he declined immediately, telling you to be patient.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you are actually looking forward to meeting him again.

Other than last week, the sun is out. Shining down on earth and painting it in a soft glow. That doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the people living in your town. The once empty café is now filled with people to brim and instead of calmness washing over you when you enter, you feel a wave of stress overcoming you.

You’ve never been a people person, preferring staying at home in the comfort of your room where no one can disturb you. The only person you really tolerate is Sunoo and that also took a while until it got to that point, even if he is the complete opposite of you. Sunoo is a social butterfly, making friends wherever he goes. And while that sometimes annoys you, you’re happy your friend has that ability.

“Hey, sorry Y/n. I will be with you in a second. Sit down and I will bring you your coffee.”, Jungwon says as he passes you by, already hurrying to the next table he has to serve at.

You look around the room, recognizing some familiar faces from your college. It was bound to happen that this place wouldn’t stay hidden for a long time, but you’re kind of sad that so many people discovered this place and disturb your peace and quiet now.

Instead of following Jungwon’s instruction, you stay standing at the entrance. You don’t see a free table anyway. Every table is occupied by students who are loudly talking to each other. You see how Jungwon easily makes conversation, laughing at the things the students say and in return making them laugh at whatever he remarks.

Envy is what’s filling you. You wish you could have this ease while talking to people. You wish you could just get over yourself, sit down and drink that damn coffe so you can go back home. But not only envy is filling you, disappointment as well. You were really looking forward to this. To spend time with Jungwon and trying something new. The whole weeklong you texted each other, not only about the coffee, but about random events in your life.

He told you how his cat at home only cuddles with him whenever she’s sleepy and how when she’s awake, she is a little diva. He also told you that that’s probably the case because he treats her like a queen, giving her everything she wants and almost never being able to say no. You told him how you miss home sometimes. How you miss your weekly family night game evenings where you would destroy your brother at Uno and how all of you would lose your nerves over board games.

You shared a lot with each other and for some reason it wasn’t even hard. It felt so easy talking to him, opening up and sharing stuff that took you a while to tell Sunoo. It’s like you’ve known each other for years already. So, it’s understandable why you notice the slight feeling of disappointment coursing through your veins.

Jungwon notices you not moving away from the entrance and while he gets a few seconds to spare, he looks at your face. And what he’s greeted with worries him. You’re pale. Your face shows clear signs of unease. And he feels stupid. He feels stupid because you told him how you don’t like crowded spaces and he forgot. He should have cancelled today and made you come back on a less crowded day, but he forgot. He was simply so excited to see you again and show you the coffee he’s been working on, that he just forgot. But you’re here now anyway and he would regret it if he just sent you away.

So instead, he ignores the call for his name from one of the tables and makes his way over to you. He gently takes your hand and guides you behind the counter where the register stands. “Wait here.”, he tells you in a gentle voice before walking back and grabbing a chair. He takes it behind the counter and places it down in front of you. “Just sit here, it’s the furthest away from all the people.”

You show him a small appreciative smile before whispering a quiet thanks.

“I’m going to serve one of the tables and then I’m right back with you, okay? We can try the new coffee then. Is that okay with you or do you rather want to go home?”

Going home sounds tempting, but you’re already here and while you still feel a bit of panic in you, you actually really want to stay. For the bet, of course.

“No.”, you croak out. “I want to stay. I will wait here.”

Almost immediately, his face breaks into a wide grin. “Okay, great. Give me a few seconds and I’m right back.” And with a bit more speed in his walk, he goes to serve the customers. From your position you have a good view of the table Jungwon is standing at. You recognize the girls sitting there from your math class. You see how they twist their hair as they talk to Jungwon, giving him flirty looks with their eyes and a small laugh escapes your mouth. Because while they’re obviously flirting, Jungwon seems to be oblivious to it. He notes down their orders, giving them polite smiles and keeping the conversation light. It’s cute.

When he returns a few minutes later he smiles, a bit relieved you’re still sitting in the same position as before. “I’m making your coffee now and believe me when I say I perfected this one.”

You watch as he walks over to the machine, only three steps away from you and starts his work. He looks like he’s been doing this for years by how professionally he handles everything.

“You know the girls were trying to flirt with you?”, you say, giving him an amused smile.

“What?”, he asks, thinking he heard you wrong over the loud noise of the coffee machine.

“The girls at table 3, they were flirting with you.”

“Really?”, he questions, looking back just to see them smile and wave at him. “I didn’t notice.”

“I know.”, another laugh escapes your mouth. “You’re so oblivious to it, it’s honestly funny.”

“So, you find it funny, huh?”, he asks teasingly, raising his eyebrows. “Not so funny if I would put a lot of salt into your coffee.”

You gasp. “You would never.”

“Oh, watch me.”, he says but before any of you can continue, a voice interrupts you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be a bother.”, the elderly woman that you saw here two weeks ago states. “I just wanted to pay, it’s a little too crowded in here for me today.”

Jungwon gives her a gentle smile before putting down your half-made coffee and walking to the register. “You would never be a bother, Mrs. Sim. Okay, you had your usual so that makes 8.99.”

The lady takes out her purse and lays the money on the table. “That your girlfriend?”, she asks, a sly smile on her face.

“Oh, no.”, Jungwon stutters out, cheeks turning into a slight shade of red. “She’s my friend.” You give the lady a shy smile, trying not to let your heated cheeks show.

“What a bummer. She’s pretty.”, she takes the change out of Jungwons hands and gives you two a last smile. “See you tomorrow, Jungwon. Have a great day, you two.”

Jungwon returns back to the coffee, a slight tension of embarrassment lingering in the air. “You know this lady well?”, you ask, trying to break the tension.

“Oh yeah.”, he clears his throat, trying to hide his cracking voice. “She’s my friend Jake’s grandma and was really close friends with my grandma. I look up to her because she’s been huge part of my life for as long as I can remember.”

You watch him as he purrs milk into the coffee, creating some kind of pattern. “That’s so sweet. She seems really nice.”

“She is.”, he remarks, walking over to you and handing you the cup of coffee. “Tadaaaa. I even made coffee art for you.”

As you look down at the hot liquid in your hands, you can’t help but smile. With the milk foam he created a little heart on top of the coffee.

“Aw.”, you coo at the boy in front of you. “This looks so pretty.”

“Now you only have to like it. It’s a cappuccino. Pretty much everyone that has stepped foot into a café has heard of it. Cappuccino is an Italian coffee drink made from an espresso and hot milk froth. I put a gentle sprinkle of cocoa powder on top to make it sweeter, but not too much because I didn’t want it to distract too much from the original taste.”

A call of Jungwon’s name interrupts the small moment between the two of you.

“I will be there in a second.”, he replies to the customer, still looking at you. “We have to hurry up a bit today.”

You nod, slowly guiding the cup to your lips and taking a little sip. Jungwon watches you intensively and you try your hardest not to show your dislike for the coffee he made.

“You don’t like it.”, he states.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s coffee, but it’s fine.”, you try to convince him.

“Y/n, don’t lie. I can clearly see how you don’t like it.”, you can see the flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he quickly tries to play it off and shows you a bright smile. “Third times a charm, right? Next time you will love the coffee.”

And for some reason you really hope you will. Even if that means you lose the bet.

☕3. Bómbon

“How do you even know Jungwon? I mean it’s not like he goes to our college.”, you ask Sunoo who lays beside you on the couch, watching an episode of a k-drama you found a few days ago.

“He did.”, Sunoo answers, eyes focused on the tv. “We met at the history course first year of college and just sat beside each other for a while. Before he dropped out of college.”

“Why did he drop out?”, you ask, turning your body so you can look at your best friend better.

“I don’t know.”, he mumbles. “Never told me. Every time I saw him, I forgot to ask and now it would be too weird to bring it up now.”

It’s a shame, you think. You didn’t know that Jungwon was at your college, if you had, maybe you could have been friends earlier. Or you would have never talked to him. That’s the most likely scenario. If it weren’t for Sunoo bumping into you and spilling coffee on your favorite shirt, you would have never talked to him. Sunoo felt so bad that he searched online where your shirt was from and bought you two new ones. He gave those to you the next day and told you he bought an extra one in case someone else bumps into you and ruins the shirt again. After that, Sunoo decided to spend everyday with you. He walked with you to class, accompanied you to the library to study and trusted you enough to tell you his whole life story. And almost a year later, the two of you are roommates. Walking around each other with unbrushed teeth and bed hair, crying your eyes out after watching a sad k-drama and caring for each other whenever the other person lays in bed with a cold.

To sum it up, you have seen each other at your worst and that all wouldn’t have happened if Sunoo wasn’t so determined to be your friend. Without that happening, you probably would sit in a tiny apartment, watching tv all by yourself and wondering where the hell you went wrong with your life.

“Sunoo?”

“Yeah.”, the questioned man hums, still trying to focus on the drama that’s playing.

“Why did you decide to be my friend?”, you ask him. Noticing that you have the urge to talk, Sunoo grabs the remote control and stops the k-drama. Moments like that happen rarely, where you start a conversation leading to a deeper and more emotional topic. That’s why he faces his body to you, giving you his full attention before he says his next words.

“Well, if I spilled my coffee on any other person’s favorite shirt, they would have lost their minds. They would have either cried or started screaming at me. But you just smiled at me. You told me that’s it okay and that you get that my mind was somewhere else.”, he smiles at the memory of the day you two met. “You even went as far as telling me that the life of a college student is stressful enough than to worry about a shirt getting ruined. But even through your kind words and your bright smile, I could see some sadness in your eyes. I could tell you really liked the shirt, but instead of making me feel bad, you tried to comfort me.”

Sunoo leans forward, taking one of your hands in his. “And from that moment on, I knew that I had to have someone like you in my life. And as cheesy as it sounds, but everyday that I get to spent with you as my best friend, I’m glad that I spilled my coffee all over you.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

A frown appears on your face as you read the ‘closed’ sign that’s hanging on the door of the café. Looking through the window, you see no one inside, not even Jungwon. Did you mess up the day? But you clearly remember Jungwon telling you to meet him here on Saturday. Maybe he forgot. Or maybe you did read the message wrong. Unsure, you take out your phone, checking your messages.

Jungwon: Let’s meet up on Saturday. It’s less crowded then. Does 2 pm sound good to you?

It is Saturday and while you’re here 10 minutes earlier, you don’t see how it can be closed. The café normally opens at 8 am and closes at 5 pm.

You sigh, putting your phone back into your pocket, taking one last look into the café. You get ready to just go home and spend the day either doing left up work for some assignments or just get into the bathtub with the book you’ve been wanting to read. But before you can even turn around to walk back to your apartment, you hear a familiar voice calling for your name.

“Y/n”, Jungwon calls out. “Wait up.” He jogs over to you, keys jiggling in his hand.

“I’m so sorry. I wanted to be here earlier, but my mom had a problem with her phone, and I had to fix it for her.”, he explains as he opens the door to the café, holding it open so you can be the first one to enter.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologies, Jungwon.”, you say, as you sit down at your usual table which thankfully wasn’t filled with students this time. Jungwon tosses his jacket on the chair next to yours, walking behind the registers and getting his machines started.  

“Why aren’t you taking the ‘closed’ sign away?”, you ask him, watching how he ties his apron.

“Because we are closed today.” His answer is kept short as he’s already focusing on making your coffee.

“What do you mean closed?” You walk over to him, hating the distance between the two of you. You hate to admit it, but you like looking at him when you talk. For some reason, you find the small facial expressions he does whenever you talk to each other adorable. And those dimples. Yeah, can’t get enough of them as well.

“I closed the café today, because I wanted you to feel comfortable while trying the coffee I make. And well, last week I could see how the only thing you wanted to do was go home, so I made sure today that won’t cross your mind even once.”

You feel heat crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in a red color, as you listen to Jungwon’s words. He closed the café just to make you feel more comfortable.

“Jungwon, you really didn’t have to.”, you say, but as soon as those words leave your mouth, he dismisses them.

“Y/n, it’s important to me that you feel comfortable. I know that this is all a bet we try to win, but over the last three weeks you became a dear person to me, and I will do anything to try to make you as happy as you can be while spending time with me.”

Butterflies fly wildly through your stomach, and you think you might have to throw up. What is happening to you?

Before you can answer him, which you weren’t even sure if you can, he takes the cup of coffee and walks back to your table. You trail behind him like a puppy and take a seat, looking down at the two layered coffee.

“This one is called a Bómbon. It’s originally from Spain. It’s just two ingredients, espresso and sweetened condensed milk. It has two layers, because the condensed milk holds the espresso up without mixing it like milk would do. It’s perfect for someone with a sweet tooth.”

If you had to decide between the two coffees you’ve seen and this one, you would choose the Bómbon based on its looks.

“Well, it already won, because it looks good.”, you remark, making Jungwon let out a small laugh. Another wave of butterflies’ courses through your belly as you hear the gentle sound. Maybe you’re getting sick.

“Give it a try.” And like routine, you take a small sip, ignoring the waiting eyes of Jungwon.

But this time is different. While you can still taste the lingering bitterness of the espresso, the sweetness of the condensed milk is almost completely washing it away. You know, you will still not order this for yourself next time you go to a café, but you can admit that it’s not bad.

“I actually kind of like this one.” Jungwon’s eyes widen at your statement, making him look like a little child on Christmas.

“Wait really?”, he asks, not believing what you just said.

“Yeah. I mean, I will probably not order it again, but for coffee it’s good.”

Jungwon could just accept that, say the bet is over, get his side of the prize and move on with his life. But for some reason that still isn’t enough for him. Three weeks ago, he told you he would make you fall in love with coffee, the same way he fell in love with it. You, telling him the coffee he made is good, but you won’t drink it again, isn’t what he meant when he was proposing the bet.

When he heard you admitting to hating coffee, he felt a crack in his heart. Jungwon was surrounded by coffee his whole life, his grandmother introducing him to the wonders and varieties of it. He learned to love coffee at a young age. When he was ten, he could do better coffee art than most of the big café owners in the city. And while he accepts that every person has different tastes and opinions, something in the way you were so sure of yourself made him want to challenge you. Because who could change your mind if not him? Even his grandmother would have tried to do the same.

So, he can’t give up on the bet. Not when he is that close to making you like coffee. He just has to find the right one for you.

And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want the time with you to be over yet and searches for an excuse to see you again. Even if it’s just once a week.  

“Jungwon?”, you gently call for his name. “Are you okay? Did I upset you?”

“No!”, he croaks out, clearing his throat before continuing. “You could never, Y/n. Especially not with expressing your honest opinion.”

He shows you another smile. “I think I already know what coffee to do next.”

“Next? Didn’t you win the bet. I mean I liked this coffee.”, you tilt your head to the side, giving him a confused look. And he thinks that this might be the cutest thing you’ve ever done.

“The bet was to make you fall in love with coffee, not to make you like a drink that you won’t ever touch again in your life. I want to make a drink that you can’t get enough of.”

You look at him, out of words. “The determination you have.”, you say, shaking your head. “But this can’t go on forever. We have to set some kind of limit or else I won’t even have the possibility to win this bet.”

“Okay, how about two more coffees. If I can’t make you fall in love with any of those, you won.” Once more, Jungwon holds out his hand for you. You take it, giving it another firm shake, sealing the new deal.

“To whoever wins the bet and has to fulfill the wish of the other person.”, you cheer on, holding the coffee up in the air.

And while Jungwon is watching you, he isn’t sure who he wants to win the bet anymore.

☕4: Frappuccino

The sun is shining brightly, laying warm on your skin, and filling you with happiness. Maybe that’s why Jungwon decided to close the store again and have the two of you meet up at the local park. On any other occasion you would have thought it was date, but since you know this is all just for the bet, you quickly dismiss that thought.

Instead, you sit on the small park bench with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips as you enjoy the warmth of the sun. Considering it just being the beginning of spring, the sun hasn’t shown its face in its glory a lot. So, you take in every ray of sunshine you can before it decides to go away again.

As you sit on the park bench, waiting for Jungwon, you take in your surroundings. You listen to the soft chirping of the birds that fly over your head, searching for things to build their nest with. A little squirrel, happy about a nut he found, quickly making its way across the wide meadow of the park to the tree it houses in. Kids are playing on the small playground, running around, and laughing until their stomach hurts. You see the parents, watching their children with fondness in their eyes, wishing to be a kid again and having back this ease in life. An older lady sits at the small pond, throwing bread into it for the ducks to eat. Which they do, giving their approvement of the bread in the form of loud croaks. A blue butterfly makes its way over the meadow, flying gracefully and settling down on a flower not far away from you.

While you watch all of that unfold, your thoughts keep on drifting away to one specific person. Jungwon.

The two of you spend the whole week on the phone together, calling each other after every hard day and talking until late in the night. Just for the two of you to wake up the next day tired, but with fond memories.

The more you talk to him, the more you realize the constant feelings you have when you’re around him. While you do have butterflies swirling around your belly whenever his name is just mentioned, you don’t feel nervous around him. Of course, your cheeks turn into a soft shade of marron when he compliments you and your breath sometimes stocks for a moment, when he gets closer, but you still feel comfortable around him. Completely at ease. Like you do when you step foot into the café. Jungwon makes you feel like you could conquer the world if you wanted to. Encouraging your every dream and never failing to make a miserable day better.

You realize how you suddenly don’t want the bet to end. You don’t want to not see him every week anymore.

All you want is to spend everyday with him. Listen to him ramble about the customers that visit Café Sunshine, hear him laugh at a bad joke you tell and look at you with his wide eyes and dimpled smile.

But the more time you spent thinking, the more anxious you got. You two never met up outside of the café. It was always at the same location, the same comfort zone. What happens if you two realize that outside of the café you might not get along that well? What if he was so dazed by work all the time, that he never actually took a good look at you. And now out in the open with the sun shining so bright, he might change his mind about you. While you don’t think Jungwon is shallow, a part of you still makes you want to cancel the meet up.

You are so kept up by your thoughts that you don’t even notice someone sitting down beside you. Jungwon watches you with an amused smile, seeing that you’re deeply lost in your own thoughts.

But that gives him some time to take you in.

Because of the sunny and warm weather, you opted to wear a yellow summer dress that makes you look like you’re out of a Disney movie. There is some part of him that hopes that you put this dress on for him. That you put this dress on thinking about the theme of his café and him and wanted him to notice that. But he ignores that thought and instead decides to just keep on watching you. As creepy as it may look like, Jungwon finds it really comforting. Sitting in silence with someone, appreciating nature and just living in the moment. These are moments Jungwon doesn’t get often since he works at the café all day long. And when he gets home, he is too tired to do anything except for laying in his bed and sleep. It’s no surprise Jungwon barely has any friends. There are regulars that come to the café, but most of them are elderly people. Sometimes, like two weeks ago, there are people his age at the café, but college life is hard. The constant study and the lack of money is keeping most of the students away from his café. He understands that, of course he does, but part of him is disappointed. Jungwon wished he could make more friends, have people to talk to everyday about the things that are going on in his life. Have people to go on trips with, making late night drives to McDonalds and laughing at the lamest jokes together. Have karaoke nights, get completely wasted together and have one of those 3 am deep talks. That’s all Jungwon wants. And while he does have Jake in his life, he doesn’t get to have those things. Jake moved to Australia two years ago to study. So Jungwon really has no one. No one but you.

And for once in his life, he thinks he can really have all the things he has ever wished for with you. He sees this kind of person in you that he doesn’t want to lose, that he can’t lose. It’s been 4 weeks of texting, calling, and meeting up once a week and he already can’t imagine a life without you. It’s weird. It’s weird how you can meet a person and from one to another day that person is one of the most important people in his life.

Jungwon also can’t deny the underlying feelings he’s evolving for you. He isn’t stupid. Of course, he notices the way his body reacts whenever you step into the room or when he hears your voice over the phone. It also doesn’t help that he thinks about you everywhere he goes. Somehow, he sees you in everything. When he goes grocery shopping and he sees hot chocolate, he thinks about you and the first time you met. When he walks past a book shop, he thinks about you and your constant complains about your stupid English Lit teacher. And only yesterday when half the city was covered in rain and the other blessed by the light of the sun, he thought about you. He wanted to send you a picture of the rainbow that was forming in the sky, telling you how beautiful it is. And if you agreed, he would have told you that it’s not half as beautiful as you. But of course, he can’t do that. He can’t do it because you would think he is weird to tell you such things. And he can’t do it because there is no way you could ever reciprocate his feelings.

Jungwon notices that quite some time passed by, so he decides to gently tap your shoulder. You wipe your head around, looking right into his eyes. By the sight of his face, you let out a sigh of relief.

“You scared the shit out of me, Jungwon.”, you say, a small laugh escaping your lips.

“Sorry, I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, but you were so deeply in your thoughts, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Blush creeps up your neck. Have you really been that kept up in your mind that you didn’t even notice Jungwon’s presence right beside you?

“Penny for your thoughts?”, he asks, scooting a bit closer to you.

“Oh.”, you stutter a bit. “Uhm, just college stuff. Assignments, exams, deadlines, you know the drill.”

Jungwon nods and you can see something changing in his face. Did you say something wrong?

“Let’s pick out a place to sit, I brought a blanket and some things from the café.” You nod at his words, standing up and following him as he walks through the meadow. He finds a place where the grass isn’t high and no flowers bloom, so you two don’t destroy anything. You help Jungwon lay out the blanket and together you plop down on it.

“Want to know what special drink I prepared for you today?”, Jungwon asks, already opening the small basket he took with him.

“What a stupid question, of course I want to see it.”

He laughs at your choice of words and gets out a plastic cup, putting it down in front of you. “I have to say, I went against all my barista morals with this one.” You take the cup in your hand, gasping slightly as you feel the coldness in your hands. “This is a Frappuccino as Starbucks likes to call it. It’s basically espresso, milk, ice cups and whatever sweet thing you want to have in there. Normally I don’t make stuff like that. I like to stick to the classics, but since it’s really hot today I thought that it would be nice for you. And I heard a lot of people say that this is a great starter drink for people who don’t like coffee. I never made it before, so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. Blame the Starbucks recipe I followed, not me.”

You listen to his ramble with a small smile on your lips. It’s cute how much thought he puts into your weekly coffee meet up. You just wished he would do it for you and not for the bet.

“Well thank you, Jungwon. It looks pretty tasty. What sweet thing did you put it?”

“I put in caramel, since it’s one of the sweetest things I found in the café. I hope you don’t mind.” You shake your head, finding his constant appeasement adorable.

“I don’t mind at all.” The cold drink in your hands feels refreshing compared to the hot weather. You’re not used to these temperatures, having lived in cold winter for a few months. But you can’t complain, you love that the sun finally shows its face again.

Without thinking much, you raise the cup to your mouth, placing the straw between your lips and taking a small sip. All while Jungwon watches you with an expecting look on his face. This is the second to last coffee he made for you. Of course, he still has one more chance to prove to you the wonders of coffee, but the hopes that this one will be the mind changer for you are high. After all he has to remind himself that this is a bet. A silly little bet the two of you agreed on, nothing more.

“You’re torturing me with your poker face. What do you think?”

“If I’m being honest with you,”, you start your sentence looking down at the drink. “I like the ice in it since it’s really cooling down my body, but the drink itself is okay, I guess.” You shrug your shoulders but keep your gaze down, so you don’t have to see the flash of disappointment on Jungwon’s face. “I liked the drink last week better. It tasted more real, you know. I could taste how much love you put into the coffee and this one tastes really artificial.”

Even though Jungwon feels a bit sad that you don’t like the coffee he made today, a part of him feels proud on how you can taste the differences in the coffee he made. Last week as the weeks before, he made the coffees with a lot of time and love, not thinking much of it and just following his passion. With this one he tried too hard. He tried too hard to find something you could like and forgot what this is actually about. He made something that he would never sell in his own café, and it felt  so wrong, but he was so desperate to find something you will like, that he went against his own comfort.

“Thank you for noticing that, Y/N. I promise you that next week I will make something I stand behind again, instead of trying to copy coffee from Starbucks.”

You smile at his words, putting the drink down again. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you some iced tea in case you don’t like the coffee.” Jungwon grabs the basket and takes out the drinks he brought, along with all the snacks he made himself.

“Jungwon, you didn’t have to.”, you coo, looking at the delicious treats. You can feel your belly grumbling, remembering that the only thing you ate today was a bowl of cornflakes.

As the two of you munch on the snacks in silence, you remember the conversation you had with Sunoo not so long ago.

“Can I ask you something?”, you speak up after a while, making Jungwon look up from the cake in his hands. He nods softly, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it’s just something that’s been on my mind.”

You clear your throat, moving on the blanket so that you sit facing him more. “Sunoo told me that the two of you went to the same class for a while last year, but suddenly you stopped going. When I asked him why, he said he didn’t know. Why did you quit college and started working at the cafè?”

Jungwon knew this question would come sooner or later, but the timing of it still catches him off guard. He thinks for a few moments, not sure how he should answer you.

“Well, I started going to college because I wanted to get a higher education. I always loved going to school and if you believe it or now, but I never missed a day of school when I was still in high school. I didn’t quit because college got too much for me, I loved going there. I loved the stress of the deadlines. I loved spending nights studying and I loved attending all the classes and gathering new knowledge.”

“Then why did you quit?”, you ask.

“Because my grandma died.”, he says, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence. “It was all so sudden. She was fine before and then suddenly I got a call in the middle of class telling me she was at the hospital.”

You scoot forwards, taking his hands into yours and giving them a soft squeeze. “My grandma spent her teenage years dreaming about owning a café. It’s all she ever wanted. Back then she didn’t have a phone where she could google recipes for coffee. She had to teach it to herself and that’s exactly what she did. My grandma sat in the garage with a coffee machine she got from an old store and coffee beans she stole from her parents and worked on the perfect coffee recipes. While other teenagers her age had lemonade stands, my grandma had a coffee stand. She sold the coffee she made and saved the money.”

You can see the fondness in his eyes as he tells the story. “One day as she walked through the city, she saw a for sale sign in front of a small building and when she looked inside through the window, she knew that this was it. This was the place she wanted to build her café in. And against her parents’ will, she did. She bought all the furniture and put months into making it look the way it is. My grandma was the one who painted the walls yellow, who created a save space for people and made everything that’s on the menu herself. She created a place where everyone can be themselves, where no one is excluded, bullied, or shamed in any way. She chose yellow because it symbolizes optimism, energy, joy, happiness, and friendship.”

“From the second I was able to walk I learned all about coffee. How to make it, how to serve it and how to create my own recipes. She taught me the knowledge I have today.” You get lost in his words, the story playing in your head. And you are thankful. Thankful to a woman you’ve never met for not only giving Jungwon something he talks about with so much passion, but for also being such a huge positive part in his life.

“She also named the café after me.”, he adds, a shy smile forming on his lips. “When I was a child, I would always smile. At stranger in the supermarket. At the waitress in restaurants. I was a happy child and so she gave me the nickname sunshine. She would always call me by that name. And one day when we walked into the café together something clicked inside of her. She made this place to bring joy into people’s life and no word describes it better than sunshine.”

You grin at that yourself, finding the little nickname fitting. From the moment you met him, you noticed the positive energy about him, like he baths in sunshine every day. Something about just being in his presence makes all your worries melt away.

“So, when I heard the news, I knew I couldn’t give the café up. My parents are busy at their own workplaces. And no one could have continued my grandma’s dream better than me. I mean, she taught me everything she knew, everything she put into the café. The only logical thing was to drop out of school and continue what my grandma couldn’t finish. It’s what she would have wanted.”

You nod at his words, taking a few seconds to process all the information you just got. Jungwon gives you that time, looking down at your hands which are still holding his.

“I’m sorry for what happened with your grandmother. I’m really sorry you had to go through that.”, you start, squeezing his hands softly again. “And I love how passionate your grandma was about her dream. I admire her for building up something and putting so much time and energy into it. I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been. But I have one question.”

Jungwon’s head lifts, gently tipping to the side, signaling you to continue. “You said that your grandma would have wanted for you to run the café. But do you want it?”

Jungwon is taken back by your question, his face forming into a frown. If he wants this? He never thought about it. For him it was a no brainer. He loves making coffee and talking to people, hearing new stories and making their days better, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Jungwon knew no one could do the job better than him and that his grandmother would have never trusted anyone else with the café. But does he actually want it? He never thought he would be at this place. He thought he would finish college and get a high paid job his parents chose for him. Jungwon never thought he would drop out of college to become a Barista.

He looks into your eyes, uncertainty still lingering in them. “It’s not what I planned for myself, if I am being honest with you, but it is what I want. I love doing it and I can’t imagine my life without going into this little café every single day.”

You smile at him, pleased with his answer. “Are you happy? Happy with the decisions you made so far?”

“Yes.”, he answers. This time without a hint of hesitation. “Yes, I am happy.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” You let go of his hands, grabbing your iced tea again. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

And in that moment as Jungwon hears the words that leave your mouth, he knows that there is no way out anymore.

He has fallen for you, way too hard and way too deep.

☕ 5: Vanilla Latte

Over the whole week Jungwon barely texted you.

He wished you good luck on one exam you had and texted you the details of the next time you meet up, but other than that, he stayed silent.

And while you could have just texted him, part of you was holding you back. You never talked about what the two of you are. Friends? Acquaintances? Or more? Is this going to end after the next time you meet up? Or have the two of you become so close that you will still want to see each other afterwards?

Mulling over those questions, you didn’t want to text Jungwon, thinking that it will just confuse you even more.

Jungwon on the other hand waited for you to text him. While this sounds super childish, he just wanted to see if you reach out to him yourself. Maybe he just thought you missed him as much as he missed you this week.

As Jungwon stands in front of the milk counter in the grocery store, he doesn’t notice a figure approaching him.

“Jungwon?”, he turns around, being faced by a bright smile.

“Sunoo, hey. It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other. How have you been?”

Sunoo sets down his grocery bag that’s already filled with plenty of things. Jungwon assumes you send Sunoo to shop for the items you need, since you told him once how much you hate going grocery shopping and how time consuming and energy draining it is. “I’ve been great. College life is stressing me out, but it’s nothing I can’t manage. What about you?”

“That’s great to hear, Sunoo.”, he sends Sunoo a soft smile. Even though he barely sees Sunoo anymore, he was an important person in Jungwons life for a few weeks. He was the only friend Jungwon had in class, a person he could talk to in his breaks and someone he could exchange notes with. It also helped that Sunoo always knew how to make Jungwons day a bit better. “I’ve also been good. The café is getting more popular, which means more work for me, but I enjoy it. The people are all so kind and I’ve never had this many good conversations with strangers before.”

“That’s amazing, Jungwon. I’m so proud of your accomplishments.” Sincerity laces Sunoo’s voice, clearly happy for his friend. “I would love to continue talking to you, but I have a hangry girl in the apartment and if I take any longer, she will be even more obnoxious than she already his.”

He can tell Sunoo is being sarcastic, but he can’t help to be jealous about it. Sunoo gets to see you every day. He comes home everyday to you.

Jungwon envies him for that. Not only does he want to see you every day, but he also wants a great relationship with you. He wants to be able to tease you and make jokes until your belly hurts from laughing. He wants to come home to you and watch as you study, listening to your complaints about the work and lending you a helping hand. He wants to be the person you put your trust in, the person you rely on when things get tough. But he can’t have that and it’s tearing him apart.

“How is Y/N?”, he asks before Sunoo can leave. “We haven’t texted much this week.”

“Oh, she’s good, I guess. Stressed out and sleep deprived, but other than that fine.” Jungwon just nods, sending Sunoo an appreciative smile before turning back to the milk. Sunoo notices the change in his behavior, seeing right through him. Everyone with a working pair of eyes can clearly see what is going on between the two of you. “But she misses you.”

Jungwon wipes around at those words, eyes wide and mouth agape. “What?”

“She misses you. She talks about you everyday and how she can’t wait to see you again on Saturday.”, Sunoo smiles widely, grabbing his bag again and throwing it over his shoulder. “She seems to really like you, because I never heard her talk about someone as much as she talks about you.”

Jungwon doesn’t know what to answer. A million thoughts swirling around his brain.

“I really got to go now. Have a great day, Jungwon. We will hopefully see each other soon.” With that Sunoo turns around, disappearing in the big store and leaving Jungwon to stand there alone with his thoughts.

What is he supposed to do now?

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

There are signs of nervousness seen in your steps as you walk to the café. Everyone that’s passing you by can notice that. The way you pick the skin on your fingers, how your tongue darts out every five seconds to wet your lips and the obvious shaking of your limps. People could also think you are on hard drugs, but you quickly dismiss that thought.

You don’t even know what exactly makes you so nervous about today. Maybe it is because you haven’t heard from Jungwon and you’re scared that you did something wrong. Or maybe it is because you know this day will end your bet and you have no idea what will happen after it.

The uncertainty is really driving you insane.

You tried talking to Sunoo about it, explaining him your situation and having him understand you. But you quickly noticed how that did not work out, because all your best friend said was ‘Just confess to him. Tell him how you feel and how you don’t want to stop seeing him. What’s the worst that could happen?’

The worst is that you will end up making a fool out of yourself. You still hope that the least Jungwon wants is to stay friends with you and continue your weekly meetups. You don’t want to ruin that just because you feel nervous about him. It’s not like you do have feelings for him. It’s probably just a stupid little crush that will go away as soon as the two of you leave the getting to know phase.

Still, you stand in front of the café, a place you feel comfort and happiness in, and you can’t get yourself to actually open the door.

Seeing you through the window, Jungwon walks up to open the door for you. “Hey Y/N, come in.”

With hesitant steps you walk past him and almost immediately, the familiar feeling of tranquility washes over you. You take in the scent of fresh baked cake and newly brewed coffee, thinking that this could possibly be the last time you stand in here. And you notice the slight scent of Jungwon.

Every time you walked into the café you noticed a scent that you couldn’t recognize. Not a bad smell, just something that mingles with the normal scent of the café. Only last week when the two of you sat in the park together, you noticed that that scent belonged to him. And weirdly enough, it brought you comfort. Maybe it is because you associate it with the Jungwons’ workplace or maybe it is just Jungwon himself that makes you feel that way.

“Are you okay?”, he asks as he pulls out the chair - of the table you always sit at – for you to sit down.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? Did you have a stressful week?” As you watch how Jungwon makes his way to the counter to prepare your coffee, you notice how you could never get sick of looking at him. Everyone with eyes sees Jungwon’s obvious attractiveness. His sharp features, the cat-like eyes, his silky brown hair, the wide shoulders, and the dimples. God, those dimples will kill you some day. You could look at him all day long and not get tired of seeing his face, of seeing his smile or the concentrated look on his face whenever he makes coffee. But not only does his appearance allure you, but his personality as well. The witty comments, the way his voice changes whoever he is talking to, his friendliness as he talks to customers. The way he leans down to talk to the children who come to the café, showing them a warm smile as he gifts them a free cupcake. The care he shows for the people he loves, even if it’s sometimes not as noticeable. The passion he carries for his job and the things he loves. And his mind. The thoughts and opinions he carries with him. The way he voices his feelings and tries to never hurt anyone with the things he says.

You could never get tired of that. You could never get tired of him.

“My week was good. The café is booming with new customers, so I have a lot to do. But I’m not complaining. I love how this place gets more and more recognition the more time passes by.” He walks back to you with a see-through cup in his hand that he puts down on the table in front of you.

“This is a Vanilla Latte. It’s not been on the menu for so long, I just added it a few weeks back. It is made of espresso, steamed milk, a little bit of fine foam and lastly vanilla syrup. It’s sweet, maybe he even a bit too sweet. But I thought since you kind of liked the Bómbon, this will be a good choice for you.”, he smiles, sitting down on the chair beside yours.

“What will happen if I don’t like it?”, you ask him, eyeing the coffee in front of you.

“Then you won the bet.”, he answers you, stating the obvious.

“No, I mean what will happen to you? Will you be disappointed?”

“Yeah.”, he says. “I think so, but there is nothing I can do to change that. Even though I put a lot of effort into making those coffees for you every week, it was still fun for me. And a way to practice my abilities. So yeah, I will be disappointed, but I will also be happy that you at least tried to understand me and my love for coffee.”

You nod at his words, taking them in. Part of you was afraid of taking a sip, just like the first week of your bet, but this time for a complete different reason. This time you aren’t afraid of trying something new. This time you are scared that whatever will happen after you take a sip, will change the relationship between you and Jungwon. Now you really want to like the coffee.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the cup, but the warmth of it eases your nerves, even if it is just a little bit. You lift it to your lips and before thinking too much you take a sip, already used to this routine. Jungwon, as perse, watches you with wide, curious eyes. The hope of turning you into a coffee lover still lingers inside him.

“So, what are your final words?”, he asks after a few seconds.

“It’s definitely the best one you made so far. I really like how strong the vanilla flavor is.”, you answer, trying to end it on that.

“But?” He hears it in your voice and sees it in your face.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. I just really don’t think coffee is for me. I am so thankful how hard you tried, and I could really see and taste the love and time you put into this. And I’m so proud of you and you should be too, because you have a real talent and make a lot of people happy with what you do.” You smile at him, putting the coffee down in front of him. “But I guess I will just stay with hot chocolate.”

A shy smile forms on Jungwons lips as he hears your kind words, and he can feel the heat crawling up his neck. “Thank you, Y/N. You don’t know how much your words mean to me. And don’t worry about not liking coffee. As you said, it’s just not for you. Even someone like me has to accept that there are actually people out there who don’t like coffee.”

There is something lingering in the air. Like the two of you desperately want to say something, but the words don’t want to come out. You feel the mood visibly shift into awkwardness, uncertainty, and maybe even longing. You can’t handle it. You can’t handle the mess of the feelings inside of you and the way Jungwon looks at you right now. His eyes shimmering with a feeling you can’t describe. He is looking at you like he can read you. Like you are open book to him, and he knows all the answers to the questions that circle around your mind.

It’s getting unbearable. You think you might break under his gaze and spill out every question that you don’t even have an answer for. And that’s not what you want. As long as you aren’t sure about things, you won’t talk to him about it.

So, instead you get up from your seat, earning a confused look from the brown-haired boy. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, sorry. I promised Sunoo to be home early so we can have a movie night.” You put on your jacket, grabbing your bag. “Thank you for everything Jungwon.” You send him a wave and a small smile before heading to the door.

“Wait!”, he calls out for you, making you turn around. “You won the bet. What about your prize?”

“I will get back to you for that one. See you, Jungwon.”

And before he can say anything else you are out the door, leaving him and taking half his heart with you.

☕ 5 ½ Affogato

In fact you did not get back to Jungwon. He can’t lie and say that he hasn’t been waiting every day, checking his phone regularly to see if you texted him. Even when he hears the door open, his head whips up just to be disappointed that it’s not you coming to the café.

When the first Saturday came around, Junwon felt weird seeing other customers in the café and not just you. He felt as if a part of him was missing. Somehow, he couldn’t get himself to stop thinking about you wherever he went.

You on the other hand spent most of the last days in your room. Except for the times you had to go to class. You keep on mulling over the things in your head, trying to figure out your feelings. It doesn’t make sense to you that you have feelings so strongly for someone you just met. You thought that the feelings would go away as soon as you didn’t see Jungwon anymore. Thinking that it was just a small crush. But the more time passes and the longer you go without seeing him, the more you long for him, the more you miss him and the more you have this wrenching feeling inside of your chest. When Saturday came along, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You wanted to go to the café, surprise Jungwon and tell him all the thoughts which have been plaguing your mind. But you couldn’t. There is a part of you that still isn’t sure if what you feel is genuine and a part of you is afraid of rejection. Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean he will. You yourself have doubts on how fast those feelings blossomed. There is a huge possibility that he just did all that for the bet. For the sheer satisfaction of being right. Of proving a point.

All of this didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Sunoo has been worried about you ever since you came back from the last time you met Jungwon. He noticed that something went wrong and as he tried to talk to you about it, all you did was dismiss him, telling him you didn’t want to talk about it.

But Sunoo is sick of it. Sick of seeing you so sad and he decides that something has to change.

He ignores your sounds of complaint as he enters your room, muttering for him to leave as you hide yourself under your blanket. “Get up.” His tone is stern, the complete opposite from his normal sweet and friendly voice. It makes you peak your head out of your blanket to look at him.

“Why?”, you ask, making him sigh. Sunoo sits down at the edge of your bed, pulling your blanket down.

“I want you to stop drowning yourself in self-pity and instead get up and do something against whatever it is your feeling.” You sit up, knees against your chest, wrapping your arms securely around them. “Stop being so oblivious and open your eyes. I don’t know what exactly you’re going through, since you won’t tell me, so I’m just going to assume. You are in love with Jungwon, but you are scared. Not only that he won’t like you back, but you are scared of love itself. You fear the potential heart break that it can leave. You think that if you feel this worse already even though you are not even dating, you don’t want to know what it feels when you actually get your heart broken.”

Sunoo takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and thinking carefully about his next words. “But that is not how life works, Y/N. If you go through life, afraid of everything that might hurt you, you won’t live. You will hold yourself back from opportunities, from new doors opening. You will stay where you are right now, not moving an inch forward. And believe me that’s not how you want to live your life. So please, for the love of God, go to the poor boy and confess your feelings. I met him at the store the other day and when I told him that you miss him, you should have seen the way his face lit up. He is head over heels for you. He closed his god damn store on Saturdays for you just so that you could feel comfortable while meeting him. He researched coffee and spent a lot of his time making them just to find something that you will like. And when you had a bad day because of the college stress he spent the whole night on the phone with you, making jokes and trying to get you to laugh. That’s not something someone does just because. Jungwon does those things because he likes you.”

“You really think so?”, you ask, your voice small and showing all the doubts that gathered over the days.

“I know so.”, Sunoo answers, squeezing one of your knees softly. “Go get your man.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You never thought you would be in a situation like this. It almost feels like you’re in a movie.

The way you run to the café, 5 minutes before it closes, just so you could catch Jungwon before he leaves. The wind blowing your hair through the air and the flowers of the cherry blossom trees, swirling around, painting the scene even more dramatic than it already is.

By the time you arrive at the café, you are out of breath and covered by the pink flowers. But you don’t care, you storm into the small building with determination.

Jungwon stands with his back turned behind the counter, washing the dishes since there is no one in the café anymore. “I’m sorry.”, he says, back still turned to you. “I’m closing now. You can comeback tomorrow and I can make you some delicious coffee.”

You smile at his words, walking up to him. “You can’t even make an exception for me?” At the sound of your voice, Jungwon turns around. Forgetting that his hands are still wet and drenching his apron and the floor with it. But that is not important. What is important is that you actually stand in front of him.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I won the bet. I came to claim my prize.” A smile graces your lips, but Jungwon doesn’t know what he means. He doesn’t know anything. It’s like his brain stopped working the moment he heard your voice.

“Yeah, right.”, voice breaking in nervosity. “What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to go on a date with me.”

“What?” Jungwon can’t believe his own ears. Did you really just say that?

“I want you to go on a date with me.”, you repeat. “Over the past few weeks, I noticed myself slowly falling for you. I didn’t tell you because I was scared. I was terrified of getting hurt, to the point where I thought that shutting you out and denying my feelings for you was the best way to deal with this situation. But I quickly got to see that it only caused the exact opposite to happen. I started missing you so much that I felt like a piece of me was not with me anymore. I realized that I can’t live like this. I can’t keep running away from things the moment I get scared and finally face my fears.” You smile at him, tears forming in your eyes.

“I like you, Jungwon. I like you so much, it’s scary. But even considering all this, I want you in my life. No, I need you in my life. And you may not feel the same thing, but I can’t go on knowing I never tried.”

Junwon doesn’t know what to say. No words want to leave his mouth. So instead of saying anything, he walks around the counter and stops right in front of you. He pulls you closer to him and the next thing you know you feel his lips softly pressing against your own.

You melt into him, gripping his shoulders tightly as you kiss him back. You get lost in his scent, in the softness of his lips and the warmth inside of your heart. And you know that this is something you could get used to.

“How about we have it now?”, he asks you after breaking the kiss. His hand tugging a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Start what now?”

“Our date.”, he states, letting go of you and walking back behind the counter. “I have the perfect idea. Sit down please.”

You do as he says, watching him work on something. Jungwon joins you not long after, placing a big bowl of ice cream in front of you.

“This is an Affogato. It’s not really coffee, more of a dessert. But it is vanilla ice cream with espresso shots. I got this idea last week and thought you might want to try it out.” Jungwon grabs a spoon himself and together you take a bite of the dessert he prepared.

“Thoughts?”, he asks, the situation way too familiar to the both of you.

“Meh, it’s fine. But I think I will just stick to normal ice cream.” He laughs at your words, a bright cheerful laugh, that fills your whole body with joy.

“I really thought that could be the last thing to change your mind and make you fall in love with coffee anyway.”, he says, a small pout adoring his lips.

You can’t help it but lean over and place a gentle peck on his lips. “Well, I didn’t fall in love with coffee, but I sure as hell fell for someone else.”

You watch as his cheeks turn into a soft shade of red, adoring the way he looks when he’s shy.

“And I sure as hell fell for you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine.”

Bonus

☕4 years later

“I’m sorry, we’re closed.”, you say as you hear the door of the café open. Busy washing the dishes, you didn’t even look over your shoulder.

“You can’t even make an exception for me?”, you hear a familiar voice say. Turning around you are met with the face of your boyfriend, flowers in his hands. This scene seeming way too familiar to you.

“Jungwon!”, you exclaim, drying your hands and walking over to him. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be resting. I thought you were sick.”

Jungwon shows you a sheepish grin. One of hands reaching up to rub his neck nervously. “Well, about that. I may or may not have lied to you about being sick.”

“What?”, you say, a frown forming on your face. “Why would you lie to me about that?”

Jungwon lays the flowers down on the counter before reaching one of his hands into his pocket. “I had to get something.”

Looking down at his hands, you see him pull out a small velvet box. And before you know, Jungwon is already kneeling down on one knee.

“Y/n, we’ve known each other for the past 4 years and those have been the best years of my life. Before I met you, I felt alone, completely distant from the world. But when you came into my life, suddenly everything made sense. You accepted my love for coffee and even tried to love it as well, which we know didn’t quite work out as planned. You gave me the life I always wanted and now it’s my turn to give you something in return. So, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

Tears stream down your face as you look at the man before you. The man that has done nothing but give you all his love for the past four years. The man you would do anything for. And the man you want to the spend the rest of your life with.

So, there is really no other answer to his question, but…

“Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you.”

[thesirencult]

WHY INVESTING IN YOURSELF WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

"The best thing you can do is to be exceptionally good at something," said Buffett. He added, "Whatever abilities you have can't be taken away from you. They can't actually be inflated away from you. ... So the best investment by far is anything that develops yourself, and it's not taxed at all."

- Warren Buffet

There is a reason people call Mr. Buffet the "Oracle/Sage Of Omaha".

Not only he is great at asset management and making the right predictions when it comes to the financial markets, but he is also very wise and offers great advice.

Investing in your own self is the only type of investment you can make that is absolutely safe and guaranteed to give you a return on investment that would satisfy you.

Knowledge is fuel. You are the vehicle.

We are living in times of abundance. Knowledge and data curation is the hottest skill someone can learn right now. That's what AI models like ChatGPT do. They curate useful data from trash. That's what you should also do with your mind. Throw out what's hindering your growth and feed your brain with nutritious food for thought.

We are nearing the "Age Of Abundance", the Golden Saturnian Age of our times. Don't fall into oblivion.

The resources are within a finger's reach. You are actually holding the most precious asset in your hands right now, that's how I reached you.

Whoever takes advantage of this situation will succeed.

Read books, articles, essays. Watch videos and documentaries. Educate yourself for free. If you have the ability to get a university degree for free, do it ! Don't fall in the trap of "degrees are useless". Instead choose to educate yourself in subjects that interest you and make you even more savvy. Invest in evergreen skills. Learn content creation, marketing and money management. Study philosophy to learn the art of critical thinking.

In the next 10 years we will all transform from 9 to 5 slaves to freelancers and one-person businesses. This is where we are headed. Notice all the lay-offs and how artificial intelligence has taken the world by storm.

Be proactive.

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Wednesday, OC NSFW Sheet & OC SMASH or PASS Poll

Tagged by @imogenkol

Tagging @direwombat @spookyrares @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai + anyone else who want to join.

WIP Wednesday for my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore and an NSFW sheet + an OC SMASH or PASS poll for Silva's half-sister Elsa Omar from The Silver Chronicles. Read and decide under the cut:

Got a snippet from my Fallout series A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, specifically my FO3 WIP. Amata awakes from a nightmare, and unfortunately Alph isn't present to comfort her. Although things are tense between her and her fellow travel companion Ress, things are surprisingly undisturbed between them. Read below:

Amata awoke with a startle, chest heaving as she looked around the trailer for her tormentors. She expected the cold, disappointed gaze of her father glaring down at her, or perhaps Stevie Mack sadistic grin, or feel the hungry, prying hands of the Andale families that he dropped her into.

Finding neither men nor the vile family, she flopped back onto the dirty mattress as she covered her face, trying to take calming breaths as the terror regressed from the corners of her mind.

She felt hot, hair and forehead damp with sweat, shirt clinging to her body like wet toilet paper.

She glanced at the trailer's square windows, only seeing the dark sky, no sun in sight.

She frowned and brought her pip-boy to her face. The faded green light of the screen was enough to make her tired eyes squint as they adjusted. She noted that it was early in the morning, early enough that the sun wouldn't be up for another five or so hours.

Amata huffed as she brought the screen away from her face. She glanced to the exposed doorway to see Ress laying on top of the picnic table she dragged over. Amata noted the shades the Bishop woman adorned to her face, and shoved away the thought questioning why she'd where them in the dark.

The woman hardly made much sense to Amata; from her unnatural platinum blonde hair to her arrogant, apathetic attitude to the incredulous impossibility of her abilities of unknown origin. Amata learned radiation could do many things, and she knew manipulating energy could not be one of them.

And yet, she's helping me look for Alph, Amata reminded herself. She still couldn't figure out why Ress would go out of her way of helping her, considering her previous words some time after she held them hostage as her guides.

She shook her head, clearing those thoughts. Regardless of whatever reason Ress possessed to aid her, Amata was glad that she had some powerful protection against the hostility of the Capital Wasteland.

The shootout between the raiders and super mutants from yesterday being the most fresh example on her mind.

Amata debated on whether she should return to sleep or not. Usually she'd seek out Alph whenever she had a nightmare, dating back to when they were kids inside the Vault. Simpler days... easier days.

But Alph isn't here right now, she grimly remembered, He's in a hub full of those fucking slavers. All because he put my safety above his own.

That was quite a pattern Amata seemed to be repeating; finding herself in some trouble and then needing to be protected and saved. Like with Springvale, like with Andale, and recently Evergreen Mill.

This time, neither her nor Alph had Ress to bail them out at the time. And now Alph was suffering the consequences of her inadequacy.

Knowing she'd find no peace in her slumber, she instead decided to get up to get some fresh air.

Ress' resting spot just happened to be where she needed to get said fresh air.

Ress didn't immediately acknowledge Amata, though the younger of the two wasn't foolish to believe she just didn't hear the vaultie.

Amata exhaled into the cold air as she pretended to admire the morning sky, although a morning sky was better than no sky in her opinion.

"Rough sleep?" Ress inquired from where she laid on the table, head tilted towards Amata's direction.

A breeze brushed past, the chill causing a shiver to wash over Amata's body. Regretting leaving her jacket in the trailer, she answers Ress with a nod and murmur.

Amata saw that Ress nodded slowly, one expensive slacks tapping against the other. "Bad dreams?" She guessed, though not unsurprising to Amata.

"Yeah," Amata said lowly, rubbing her hands together as she tried to generate enough heat to support her entire body. She didn't exactly want to talk to Ress about it, even if she was seeking at least another's presence.

Ress leaned up, left fingers suavely taking her shades off. Her piercing blue eyes focused on Amata, before breaking the focus to brush her hand over her long hair.

Tapping the hilt of her slacks against the table leg, and smacked her lips together. Amata had noted that Ress was taking time in piecing her words together this time.

"The Capital Wasteland sure is something," Ress began, wringing her wrists, "Chaotic and hostile and full of conflict."

Amata only nodded along, both out of habit and having learned from experience the Wasteland's environment.

"Though this place is only a corner of the world," Ress stated, "My brother's been all over the states. Contrary to what you vaulties may believe, the country isn't actually like this."

She gestured to west, a twinkle in those blue eyes, "California's developed a new republic that's been around as long as Ore has been."

She gestured north, Amata followed the direction obediently, "Boston's apparently doing quite well compared to the likes of Orleans and Oklahoma. Not thriving like California but certainly not a dead zone like our neighbor West Virginia."

Amata listened closely, absorbing what little information she could infer from Ress' words, "This may be one of the less appealing areas, I know, but once you find your way to other states, it'll be like this place to be another passing memory."

Amata scrunched her face, though she wasn't entirely discomforted by Ress words.

"Whether my word means anything or not, I just want to make sure you know one thing right here, right now," Ress says as she stares into Amata's caught gaze, "I won't let you down. I'll get Alph back for you, alive and in one piece."

Here's my Captain of Security Ezekiel's NSFW Chart that no one asked for. Be sure to see the information of his mutual lover in the SMASH OR PASS section too:

SMASH OR PASS

RULES: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

ELSA OMAR (THE SILVER CHRONICLES)

[NOTE: Elsa is supposed to have natural blonde hair, something she inherited from her father, Adam Omar (for better or worse considering how shitty of a person he is)]

QUICK FACTS:

HEIGHT: Around 5'5.

Age: 25 (if she was alive in 2018)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Polyamorous Bisexual

PROS:

Elsa's got a successful business in floristry and is very well-off (which may or may not involve her less-talked about methods of attaining finance).

Dominant Feminine Aura radiates from her.

You want affection? Don't bother saying what type she'll give you it all.

She's a flirt, a wooer, a love-bomber and just about knows all the ways to court you like a gentlewoman (and get you hot and bothered... as well as wrap you around her finger).

Actual comedian (potentially learned from one of her financial gigs?).

Knows all the dirt on everyone and the hottest gossip (hot out of the oven kind of gossip).

You want to try scary new things? She also wants to try scary new things.

Quite an intelligent, cunning adapter.

Social etiquette and fashion queen and occasional rule-breaker (but no one can prove it).

Bisexual goddess honestly.

Very experienced in the bedroom, so rest assured you're in good hands if you've got none. She'll be gentle, don't worry. (And if you like rough, rest assured, in spite of her medical condition with her bones, Elsa HAS creatively found many ways around that which can satisfy both of your wants for a little roughness).

She's got connections. Legal trouble? She's got her godsend lawyer pal Gavin Turquoise to bust you out of court swiftly and cleanly. Social reputation under fire? She'll endorse you and shame the non-believers. Being messed around with by some punks? Ningún problema, she's got her older hermana Silva who'd do anything for her litter sister.

Fun aunt so if you have any nephews/nieces she can give you a hand.

Wine aunt (also knows all the good alcohol).

PDA and compliment dependent.

If you're wanting to go up and talk to her but are intimidated by the sheer elegance and divinity of this walking goddess, no need to worry, you've got the ultimate encouraging wingman who's got your back... her boyfriend! (Ezekiel, if he's around, who've you recently read some intimate info above. His kinks can be a window to what she's also into).

"They ordered no pickles!" kind of girlfriend.

Will punch a jerk for you (avoidance of this is highly recommended though).

She'll accept you as you are, and will accept whatever changes you go through too.

Expect to be roped in some prank wars with her and Ezekiel.

100% okay with being friends with benefits or a one-night stand. You don't have to pursue a romantic relationship.

CONS:

Okay now time for the tough to swallow shit.

Dating Elsa is asking for a lot of trust issues, questions over the genuineness of her love towards you and her manipulative, multi-masked, self-centered selfishness, and egotistical bullshit.

Elsa is someone who pretends to be one way with you and another with others.

It may not be obvious, but Elsa craves attention, and wants to fuel more of her inflated ego, and will use you as a way to get that (okay, but that is legitimately Adam's fault right there, with his parental favoritism of Elsa over Silva. Yeah she knew he was a dangerous monster of a man and the shittiest person alive, but spending almost two decades with the man, Silva's presence and absence notwithstanding, will have affects especially when her strongest moral compass wasn't present to protect and nurture her, albeit not by choice).

Just because you may be amongst her lovers, does not mean your value goes above her family (Silva and Persephone), but if you're lucky enough you may end up amongst Ezekiel's level of importance to Elsa.

Elsa may be doing illegal shit and there is a chance she might frame you for it (if only to avoid being scolded by a disappointed Silva. Like if she went to prison, she'd be fine, it's just Silva's approval and her dependence on Elsa is not something Elsa is willing to compromise). But she generally doesn't do that with people she likes (those she dislikes on the other hand...)

Elsa's impulsive daredevil shenanigans are extremely stressful to deal with considering the severity of her physical condition.

Much like her older sister, Elsa will not talk about her past, and will outright fabricate a non-existent one without hesitation.

Probably knows therapy exists but chooses not to go because she doesn't believe she needs it.

Knowing Elsa may put a target on your back (whether it be the Congregation of Adam's Guard or whoever she's pissed off now).

Girl will gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss her way out of the "be a nicer and more considerate person" even if it's to you. You cannot “fix her”, she’s happy as is.

Toxic. Silva is 100% unaware of this fact (as far as she knows her little sister is just a little troublesome at times) and Elsa intends on keeping it that way.

If you're rich or influential (like say... Joseph Seed), she will one-hundred percent scheme a way to either steal the inheritance (which may or may not involve murder) or take your power for herself, all through the art of seduction, deception and backstabbing.

Either-Either

She doesn't want kids. Or to raise one either. She helps Silva with Persephone because that's how much they mean to her. Though she can tolerate being a babysitter and aunt-figure, actual motherhood is a no-go, not just because she can't have kids herself (a personal choice of hers), but because she's generally disinterested in the idea of raising children. Motherhood, or parenthood in general, is something she mostly doesn't want to be associated with, which is perfectly fine (unless you want kids and have managed to achieve a long-lasting relationship with Elsa).

She's not interested in marriage either. The idea of, in her own eyes, being tied down in any shape or form is something she deeply resents, especially if it's overlooked by an authoritative force that declares it official (either it be lawful or religion). Perhaps that's one of the reasons she has an affinity towards Ezekiel, as they share similar ideals with one another. He's just more chill and down-to-Earth.

Open Relationship; she's not tied down with you and you're not tied down with her. Cool for those who don't want to be restricted to just a relationship with her but not so much for those seeking a closed relationship.

Blank template for NSFW Chart:

[astrangetorpedo]

Julien Baker on learning to articulate joy

by t. cole rachel 2/3/17

“I’m always afraid that the public will scorn songs about happiness out of a disbelief that it is genuine.”

Are you working on a record now? What’s happening?

I am, but I’m always working on songs no matter what. You can’t not be working on a project if writing is how you go about compartmentalizing your life. Everything that happens, every feeling that you have, becomes work. Since the end of 2015—and keeping in mind all the life changes that year occasioned—I was writing quite a bit. I saw a latent theme start to develop, and then I was like, “Oh, well let’s pursue this.” I now have a really good idea of what I want the next record to be conceptually. I think I can be more intentional with it in presentation, if not necessarily in construction. It’ll probably be sonically similar, because that’s the style in which I write.

The stillness of songwriting—knowing when to stop and just be still—is often the most difficult part of songwriting for me. Knowing when it’s enough. Sometimes I think, “Wow, wouldn’t it be cool if we had, like, a full string quartet and a horn section here, making this into an opera?” but then that doesn’t serve the song. You know? Lyrically, I think, it’s better to be thoughtful instead of just vomiting it out.

I’m about to do something dorky, so I apologize. One of my favorite quotes about creativity is from Wordsworth who says something like, “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of emotions reflected upon in tranquility.” I think that really accurately represents the dichotomy of writing songs for me, especially with my particular writing style. It’s like, “All right, I have an emotion.” I’ll then go out to my garage and vomit out a song that’s essentially just me singing my feelings out loud. This time around I’m doing a lot more refining. Sprained Ankle was really, really raw. Which isn’t to say that’s always a bad thing—it suited that record and those songs—but this time around I’m happy to have more time with it.

That record seemed to come out of the blue and catch people by surprise. How does it feel to be making music with the knowledge that there is an audience now that is anticipating it? Does that change things?

I’ve heard myself say something in the past that isn’t totally precise, suggesting that I made Sprained Ankle only for me. Admittedly, it’s a very self-involved record that’s specific to my own experiences that I wrote as a tool, as a coping mechanism primarily, for what was happening in my life at that point. That’s how I’ve always used music. I grew up writing songs in punk bands and we would have the same conversation regularly, “Oh, this is going to be rad when we play it at a show!” You would imagine people singing along and yelling out the chorus. So you have something that you’re not only trying to say for yourself because you need to say it, but also that you’re saying to the world, even if the world in your schema is this small community... even if your audience is just a basement.

Now that I know the audience is a bit broader, I can’t help but think about that sometimes. Still, the best songs are the ones I just let happen. What is that Rilke quote? That he’s not a creator of art, he’s just a midwife to it? That’s how I like to feel. How I approach making songs isn’t totally different. Often it’s just when something difficult happens to me or I’m stressed out, I’ll just sit down and say whatever my fears are. I’ve been perpetually trying to come to terms with doing Sprained Ankle live for a year, because I’ve moved on from those specific experiences. The emotions, maybe, are evergreen in a sense because you’re always going to have fresh heartbreak at some point in your life. You’re going to have self-doubt, but it feels weird to still be singing about them years after the fact. One of the challenges about playing live has been finding new ways to apply old sentiments.

I always talk about the song “Good News.” I started to get really bothered that I was having conversations with people who listen to my music who said, “That song made me feel better!” but then I’m sitting up there screaming, “I ruin everything I do.” That’s not the kind of self-deprecating rhetoric or mentality that I want to promote. However, it’s also false to pretend like no one ever has these feelings, because people have those feelings all the time and that’s a very real thing. There’s a balance of not having an artifice of hope, but still writing songs that are honest about how I feel inside, which isn’t always great. I finally made a sort of concession with myself about it, so now before I play that song I’ll say, “This song is about when I thought I ruined everything, and now I’m trying to learn that that’s not true.”

It is cheesy and nine times out of ten I wince at myself on stage when I do it, but it’s like I have to do it in order to prove that it’s true, that I mean it. So, with these new songs—particularly the ones that were written about a relationship ending a year ago and I wrote over a year ago—I had to think about what it will mean to play them live and how that might feel. They are thematically appropriate for the record, which will be released in 2017, and obviously I’ve moved on and that’s an amicable situation right now, but it’s still a funny thing. I think I’ve been exploring the stigmatization around mental health and being open and honest about feelings, because that’s basically been my job. Everybody in this music scene is a little bit, I don’t want say “messed up” because that implies there’s something wrong with you, but we all feel a little messed up and maybe that’s why we do art.

I recently read this Alain de Botton book and it changed my life. He said that “Art is there for you when love stops being there for you.” I was like, “Oh my gosh, true.” Yeah, so being honest about those really dark things, like saying, “I feel disappointing, I feel like I’m nothing,” is important. I think about that when I start to censor myself. That was why I ended up leaving “Rejoice” on my previous record. Sometimes you need to inhabit an idea or a feeling in order to transcend it. The thing that you’re most afraid is the very thing you have to be bravest about divulging.

It seems like a more more popular human compulsion, particularly among songwriters, to document our own darkness than it is to articulate happiness. As someone who is known for writing beautifully sad songs, what do you make of that?

I remember a comment someone made about Ben Gibbard from Death Cab for Cutie: “Oh, he got happier and stopped writing good songs.” I was like, “What a grotesque thing to say.” How awful is it that our culture is geared in such a way. I think there’s inherent worth in all art and I never criticize the formal quality of art as long as there is genuine emotion there, but we’ll tolerate all kinds of cheesy heartbreak-related art just because of the subject matter. It’s much more difficult to pull off a joyful song. I’m always afraid that the public will scorn songs about happiness out of a disbelief that it is genuine. I’m interested in talking about joy, but it’s difficult and you don’t want to be clumsy with it. I think of it more as, “I have joy.” That’s a really complex thing to unpack. But I think articulating joy is important. I’m thinking of songs by people like the B-52s. There is this Australian artist called Alex Lahey who was a song where the chorus is just, “Let’s go out and have fun tonight.” It’s almost like you can hear the tongue-in-cheek irony of there’s mundanity in the grind of life and then this person is writing a song that’s just parodying a go-out-party song. It’s really cool.

It’s like it’s somehow less embarrassing to have an emotional meltdown in public than it is to be really honest about your happiness in a non-ironic way.

I think what’s so crazy is that for so many people I know—myself included—it’s this thing of when you’re acutely aware of the suffering of everything around you, it seems like happiness is a lack of decorum. Does that make sense?

For me, 2016 was a lot about learning, both good things and bad. I’m learning a lot about joy—joy as something different from happiness. Because happiness is a temporary space, an emotion, but joy, I think, is something different. It’s like a disposition that you choose to adopt. It’s all right to allow yourself that. I read a lot of philosophy, so I’m always thinking things like, “I want to be the platonic ideal of a human and do what is ethically asked of me by my existence.” Maybe that means not only writing sad songs. Maybe that means expressing joy. I’m still learning how to do that.

We went on a tour and I was reading Ethics by Bonhoeffer because I am a huge nerd and I was just like, “I’ll never be a good person.” Then one of my good friends was like, “Do you think God hates joy?” I was like, “No I don’t, I don’t think God hates joy.” She said, “So, if you have everything to be happy about, why won’t you display that as an image of hope instead of a depiction of suffering, because you can’t get on stage and talk about hope if you have no hope. You can’t go on stage and talk about joy as a destination—not just an unachievable goal—if you have no joy, so let yourself have joy.” You know how sometimes people say a simple explanation to you for something and you feel like a total idiot? I was just like, “I guess you’re right.”

I still struggle with anxiety. For the longest time on tour I would have panic attacks before almost every show. Performing is scary, and there’s a lot going on in there—”in there” being my brain. So while we were on tour in Australia it felt like I was always waiting for another shoe to drop, and when it didn’t I felt like I could just cherish the fact that I’m legitimately enjoying what is happening in my life and I’m excited to talk to people.

I can be a positive force. I can interact with people and I don’t look like a brooding crazy person. I’m smiling, I’m happy, and I’m getting to hug them. There was one show in particular where I was starting a song that there was a girl in the front of the stage who yelled out, “This is my song!” I thought it was funny because I’d only ever heard someone say that when they were at a bar and a song came on the jukebox, but I loved that she said that. I had this really cheesy thought like, “You know what? It is.” It’s not mine anymore. I was like, “It is your song, girl. This is for you. I hope you enjoy it.” She was stoked. Instead of feeling guilty that people like my music or feeling like I don’t deserve it or I haven’t earned it, I’m just happy that my job is that I stand on a stage and I look out on a whole bunch of eyeballs and we get to share this thing.

After the whirlwind success of Sprained Ankle, was it weird to finally be home again and working on music? My biggest fear is that anyone thinks that I’m anything other than amazed and grateful that I get to be a musician. Like, every day I wake up astonished by that. I think generally the amount of reward you get in your occupation mirrors the amount of sacrifice it requires. I needed to take some time to not be a ghost in my real life, to see my family and visit my partner, and just be radio silent for a while.

I write a lot on tour, which is weird because I used to think I couldn’t get into the right head space on tour to write songs, but then eventually touring just becomes your norm and I really have to be writing, so you just adapt. I’ll make little voice memos in the car and listen to them and write lyrics while I’m walking around. Once I got back home I rented this studio space and did a whole bunch of demos. We spent almost 12 hours in the studio every day. Hearing the demos outside of my head was really good for me. I’d been worrying myself by thinking, what if the new songs are too different? What if they are too much the same? What if everyone is disappointed? I felt the weight of expectation start to make me afraid that I couldn’t do it. I was, “It’s all going to be crap, everyone’s going to hate it.” Then once I got into the recording process things changed.

I was recording with my friend Calvin Lauber, who is in a band from Memphis called Pillow Talk. He’s in the scene and I’ve known him since I was 13 years old, and he happens to do recording and engineering as well as just play around in bands. It felt just so comfortable that I lost track of the hours and it was kind of like one of those moments, “Oh yeah, I love just the process of making art and I could stay here for another 12 hours just experimenting and, like, shaping this thing.” It brought me back to the reason why I ever did this in the first place. You have to be able to reconnect to the joy of making the thing that you make. It’s easy to get distracted from that.

I was so grateful that I felt comfortable enough to come back and make my music in Memphis. I moved back here at the beginning of the year to be closer to my family. I love my city. I have, like, Drake levels of love for my city. It felt good to be here. Once the demos were done and I was listening back to some of it, I had this weird feeling. I’m hyper-critical of my own work, which most artists probably are, but I had the strange sensation of thinking,“This is how it feels to be proud of something that I made.” I realized that as long as I am proud and I feel like I say what I want to with the narrative of this record, I am able to separate myself from being so concerned with, “What if people hate it?” Even if they hate it, I’ll still know that I’ve done my best. It’s all such a fifth grade classroom poster—Just Do Your Best!—but that’s truly the best and most profound advice.

Given the nature of your music, do people project a kind of “tortured artist” thing onto you? And how do you circumvent that?

When I’m on stage I try to think about things before I just rush in and say something silly... but I’m also quite silly. That being said, I’m not a Lorde or a Taylor Swift. I’m not someone who is playing stadiums and who has all these eyeballs on them. I don’t think I’m expected to be a role model. I’m not at that level. Still, people often take the slices of life represented in the songs and expand that to represent my total personhood. I think another task of mine is unifying Julien of life with Julien of the record, which often entails saying dorky, cheesy, positive things and making bad jokes on stage. Sometimes it goes over well, sometimes it’s like crickets in the audience and people are like, “What’s going on? This is too much of an emotional pendulum!” and they look freaked out. Then I just play my songs instead of making more lame jokes. I think merely by existing and refusing to give in to the persona of brooding tortured artist, you prove the point of you do not have to be sad all the time. You do not have to be defined by your sadness. I think about these things when I write songs and when I play live shows. I am trying to break the spell, in some way, that when you see someone up on stage singing sad songs that there is more to them than that. Sometimes you can’t help but be perceived as a kind of persona, but why not be a persona that’s actually realistic? I’d rather do that, instead of just posing over here in the window sill with my copy of Rilke and looking really bummed out. That isn’t me.

Recommended by Julien Baker:

Things that are inspiring to me right now...

The novel Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (a recommendation from the ever-wise Lucy Dacus)

The poetry of Beyza Ozer, a poet recommended by Morgan Martinez, editor of Hooligan Mag (an inspiring person in her own right)

The art of Kazuo Shiraga

The bands PWR BTTM and Camp Cope; their music, their social commentary, their unapologetic commitment to change through art, honestly just them as people, all of it

The paintings and zines of Ariel Baldwin, great pal/Memphis-native/Chicago-resident, makes some really provocative and powerful art about healing.

(x)

[tieronecrush]

the lakes

joel miller x reader

rating: M

word count: 1.9k

summary:

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die / i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you / those windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry / i'm setting off, but not without my muse

warnings: nudity, skinny dipping, talk about grief, death, family tension, self-doubt, self-deprecation, idk man it’s just sad

a/n: my first song for the folklore anthology!! can’t wait to share others & read all the other great works from my pals <3

The sounds of birds chirping surround you in echoes across the valley, mountainous hills convexing in front of you and dotted with evergreens. Underneath you is sun-warmed sand, interspersed with smoothed rocks from rushing water shaping them over hundreds or thousands of years. The fresh, gentle waves of the lake lick against your bare feet, knees bent up as you sit at the shore, eyes trained ahead on the glassy surface reflecting the late summer sky above. Joel is sitting next to you in the same position, his hands joined together in a circle and forearms resting on his kneecaps.

It’d been a quiet hike to the spot you discovered while on patrol. Lately, Joel has been his own worst enemy — closed off to you, stewing in his thoughts about his strained relationship with Ellie and continuing to adjust to life in Jackson, a world so slow and still that he can’t seem to find a place he fits in after moving for so long. His inertia hasn’t caught up to his lifestyle change; he is constantly picking up patrol shifts, and volunteering to oversee new construction and renovations across the town, but even through his go go go, he can’t find a place to land.

This place was the perfect spot to take him; to abate the anxious energy that vibrates throughout him every day with the halcyon elements of nature. Animals that live their lives with no concept of time, a lesson in living in the present, trees that have been around for hundreds of years, solid and strong like the man himself, and the lake. The lake that provides for everything growing around it, that reflects beauty in sunrises and sunsets, that finds itself full no matter any barriers built in its feeding river, replenished by other means from rain to groundwater.

The silence between the two of you breaks for the first time in hours.

“You know what I first thought of you when I met you?” you question him, eyes trained forward on the view. Joel offers a soft grunt in response, hinting for you to continue.

“I thought: Wow, this guy is an asshole,” he scoffs with the hint of a smirk, shaking his head while your own grin plays at your lips, “But then, I got to know you. Forced proximity really tells you a lot about a person. And I very quickly learned how much you care. This world should have jaded you, should have broken you to the bone with what you have been through, but yet, you still find means to nurture. You protect, and you provide. You love so deeply, so incredibly much. Every day I wake up next to you, I thank the lucky stars that I have Joel Miller in my corner. By my side. Watching my back.”

“I know you are feeling something, thinking about something in that head of yours all the time. And I want you to know that I love you as deeply, that I care as much for you as you do for everyone in your life. You can share with me, whatever you feel like sharing.”

Joel is quiet, squinting in the sun as he tosses a round pebble from the sand between his legs into the shallow waters. The ripple appears and dissipates before he speaks.

“That sounded like a eulogy, darlin’.”

You scoff now, that same type of soft smirk that he held minutes before pulling the corners of your mouth up.

“Is that all you took from all of what I said?”

“No, ‘course not. Just, I don’t know, felt like I was listening to what you would say about me after I’m gone.” At that you turn towards him, hand wrapping around his nearest forearm and squeezing with even, steady pressure that says ‘We are not talking about that, I can’t talk about that.’

“I do wanna share with you, I just—I don’t know how. I’ve kept all this inside, locked down in my chest. Anger, temper, violence, even, as armor to keep me alive. Don’t ever think I’ve been very nurturing since, well, since…” His throat chokes up, head drops to stare at the ground. Another squeeze to his arm, this time to say ‘It’s okay. I know. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.’

Something that he said sticks out in your head, a means to attempt to combat his walls going up again now that they have crumbled slightly. You stand, glancing around out of habit before you pull your shirt over your head, your jeans following with your undergarments in their wake. Joel looks up, expression puzzled as he watches your naked form wade into the water. You hiss as the still-icy water engulfs you from the shoulders down, treading and turning back to your man on the shore. A gentle smile covers your face, beckoning him in with one nod of your head.

He follows suit with stripping down, clothes mixing in a pile with yours as they do on the floor of your bedroom. His own pained expression from the cold lake makes you giggle quietly, a scolding stare aimed your way. He paddles over to you smoothly, the water hitting his chest where he can continue to touch with his feet at the bottom. Your arms slither around his neck, wet fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head. The leverage against him is used to tug you closer, his large palms settling at your waist under the surface while the two of you bathe in the fresh Adam’s ale of these cliffside pools. Two pairs of eyes communicate without words, the soundtrack of the birds and rustling trees occupying the dead air until you speak again, hushed despite the fact that you are the only humans for miles.

“You can take your armor off around me.”

Joel’s eyes flutter closed, a long sigh exhaled as his hands grip your curves tighter. When his burnt chestnut and amber irises are revealed again, he speaks in the same reserved volume that you had.

“I don’t belong there. In Jackson.”

Silence gently urges him to carry on.

“What I’ve done, to strangers, to myself, to Tess, to you, to Tommy, to Ellie…I don’t deserve any chance at life. With what I have taken from others, I don’t deserve to be given anything. Kindness, respect, care, love. From anyone.”

“I’ve been selfish this whole twenty years. I almost left Tommy alone. I dragged us up north to Boston. I got Tess into smuggling. I kept Ellie at a distance for so long because I couldn’t bear to feel that kind of responsibility, that familial tie. And then I chose for her, in that hospital. I couldn’t lose another kid.”

“It—it feels like I should be over the past, over what I have done now that I have a chance at a fresh start, or as close to a fresh start as I could possibly have here in Jackson. I have a shot to build a life with you, to work for Ellie’s forgiveness, to be an uncle to Maria and Tommy’s baby. But what has been chasing me — what has been over — it feels like it’s burrowed under my skin. And all I can feel when I start to forget is these—these heartstopping waves of hurt.”

“And I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to forget when my body, my mind, my soul won’t let me.”

Across his cheeks, salty tears have carved rivers, the dampness still in his eyes shining in the midday sunlight. The water sounds as if it’s rushing in your ear, your pulse racing as you attempt to process his confession. His head has bowed in a prayer position, awaiting your means to reconciliation or absolution.

Hands settled on his broad shoulders, another communicative squeeze, this one to say ‘I don’t know either. But I know how to try.’

“You let your people heal you,” Joel’s eyes meet yours, drops cascading from the damp bits of hair hanging over his forehead, attention completely and utterly on you, “Time can’t fix everything. The past can hold us in its grip even with all the time in the world. But people can help you forget. They can help to lessen the pain in your body until it’s merely a pinch. Their love can pull you up when you fall. Their care can nurture your soul to grow resilient again. Their reassurance can teach your mind to hear those sordid thoughts you have but pay them no attention.”

“I want to do this for you, Joel. I want to help you. To care for you. To love you, completely. Your people want to do it for you. And if you can learn from experience, you can do it for Ellie…” Your hands move from his shoulder, skating across his glistening skin and wrapping around the sides of his neck, thumbs resting against his jaw.

“You made choices you had to. Including for Ellie. She was — she is a child. Your kid, if not by blood. She may not understand now, but I know she will find a means to forgive you, or at least understand you.”

“Maybe when she’s older, if she has a kid of her own, she’ll understand.”

Joel’s mouth quips to one side with a faint smile, tears drying on his cheeks as he thinks of the image.

“Reckon we’d be pretty fun, well, sorta grandparents.”

“I think so, too,” you speak with a grin stretched and thumbs brushing back and forth at his jaw, “I can’t wait to grow old with you. To sit on the porch and watch you still yell across the street to your brother for full conversations instead of the two getting off of your asses —”

“Watch it, darlin’,” he warns playfully.

“Hey, it’s true. I listen to it nearly every day. Now, back to what I was imagining, cowboy.”

He nods for you to continue, a full-blown smile on his face.

“We’ll have Ellie over weekly dinners, and whoever else makes up her family. You’ll play me guitar and sing whenever I ask ‘cause you love me so much. I’ll help to heal you, and we will be happy together. We will take our second chance. And you will enjoy your time with your family. And me, hopefully.”

“Definitely with you. My beautiful girl,” his own hand leaves the water, wetting your hair as he brushes it out of your face with tender eyes, “You’re like—like a red rose that’s grown out of my ice-frozen ground. I am so lucky to have you. That you chose me, and continue to choose me every damn day. My grief sometimes feels insurmountable; like I am going to be stuck here forever with no way out of that feeling. But if I get stuck here, with you in my arms and all my people around me, I’d be fine if I simply grow old and wither away back into the earth.”

“I love you, darlin’. So much it might just end in tragedy, that my heart might just explode from lookin’ at you one day. But I do love you.”

A gentle kiss is shared between the two of you, the bitter water combined with your torrid love stirring up a tornado of tingling nerves.

You pull away, only enough to get the words out that you have told him, Joel, your man, every day and will continue to tell him every day you have him, “I love you.”

taglist: @wannab-urs @atinylittlepain @bearsbeetsbeskar @serenaxpedro @casa-boiardi @rav3n-pascal22 @dinsdjrn @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @johnwatsn @amanitacowboy @leeeesahhh @isitmelookin4u @javiscigarette @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sugarspiceanthrax @orphanbird95 @space-cowboy-like-me @tuquoquebrute @rsquared31 @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @atremises @sstarboy777 @undrthelights @butiknewyoudlinger @dayrdreaming @disassociation-daydreams @joelsversion @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mydailyhyperfixations @diamndx @mingiast @kdogreads @blxsphemy7 @marchai @littlevenicebitch69 @ghostofbrock @iwrotethissky @ladynightingale @jksprincess10 @swiftispunk @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters

[olderthannetfic]

I've done some reading challenges before and I think they can be fun if they have a purpose: for instance, something like the Read Harder challenge, ones that encourage you to read from different genres or read more diverse books, etc. I have a sort of evergreen challenge where I encourage myself to read more books written by authors from different countries, and keep a spreadsheet of which countries I've "read." (I also do this with other kinds of entertainment like movies.) But it's definitely true that some of them just seem to be for the gimmick and aesthetic, and for people who prize quantity over quality of reading in a sort of commodity-fetishism (as they're prizing books as markers of intelligence over the actual experience of learning and expanding your world via reading). Like when the challenges start to be things like "read a book with an orange cover" that's where I start to roll my eyes a bit, haha.

I will say that while I try not to be a snob about reading, it does drive me nuts when I've had people lord over how many more books they've read or how many more pages when they're reading beach reads and YA and other easily digestible stuff whereas I'm reading stuff that is heavier. One time when I was working some crappy minimum-wage job in college, I was reading this big omnibus of all Jane Austen's works (because I was taking a class on her where I was required to read those, not that I wouldn't read Austen otherwise lol) on my break, and one of the other employees asked me how many pages it was and I answered and he was like "pfft, that's nothing, I read all the Harry Potter books in a week and they're more than that!" And I wanted to be like.... yeah, me too, dipshit. I mean, I didn't literally read them in one week, but when each one came out, I devoured it within a day or two like a lot of people did, despite it being 800 pages. Because Rowling's prose is really easy to gobble up like that. Not that Austen is impenetrable or anything (I don't think she is and I think that's precisely why she remains so evergreen popular), but she does require more effort than *that*, particularly when you're reading her work for a literature class where you're expected to write a paper analyzing it, so you want to linger to make sure you really deeply understand it.

I've read academic monographs that were 150 pages long that took me weeks to get through, and I've read 800-page bestsellers that I ripped through in a few days. Pure page length does not determine how long it takes to actually read something. I mean.... in fandom we should all be aware of this, how many of us have devoured some 100k fic in a night or two? As someone who has written some of those academic monographs myself and therefore is familiar with how word count tends to relate to book page length, I can verify for you that that is the equivalent of devouring a novel in the same time frame. But it's a lot easier to do that when you're reading relatively invisible prose and are invested in your OTP getting together (or whatever) vs. if you're trying to digest someone's very dry and convoluted argument about Foucault.

--

I just read all of Scum Villain in about five minutes, yeah. And it was great, but nothing to brag about as an achievement.

I've got this friend who goes on about reading sooooo fast but then admits to often rereading to catch things that she missed the first time. It came up when I was explaining how seldom I reread or rewatch anything. I tend to remember it far, far too keenly after one time through, and it just doesn't hit the same a second time. I still read pretty fast, but not that fast.

I don't think it's snobby to roll your eyes at people who clearly don't grasp the difference between different difficulties of reading and—this is key—who are trying to wave their dick at you about how great they are. They started it!

The time I do roll my eyes is when people think you should read mega hard prose in order to learn, especially in order to learn vocabulary or get faster at reading. That's not what the science says. (Apparently, the fastest way to improve on that kind of thing is to read mass quantities of faintly hard-for-you stuff, not stuff that's hard hard.) But to learn how to decode confusing arguments? Yes, absolutely.

I do wish people would put a little more effort into unwinding their own tortured syntax on Foucault though.

[plzu]

Just Water, Thanks - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part four☕️

a/n: tbh if my 13 y/o self saw me updating a multi-chapter fic [redacted] months after the last update, she'd be impressed. this is shorter than i wanted it to be bc i had to cut it off. consider this an in-between chapter as we navigate (negative) emotions and such. anyway, hope y'all don't mind as i steer this story into angst territory! Summary: Adrian takes care of you while you are drunk and miserable in his home. Warnings: 18+, no Y/N, ANGST (reader is going thru it), mentions of assault, mentions of gore and blood and nightmares, a reference to one of the Saw movies (idk which, sorry), not beta read, if i missed anything lmk pls!! Word Count: 3.3k+

Revelations are dizzying. Revelations taste like vomit in the back of your mouth, and the backs of your teeth. Revelations leave you sore all over, more sore than you think you’ve ever been. Revelations are exhausting. They leave you parched as shit.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be some girls from high school. Old friends. Best friends. The people that were your anchor in Evergreen, who made everything bearable. Late night talks and laughing over the dumbest things and whisperings about crushes and aspirations.

People you slowly stopped talking to once you moved across the country, to some city that could swallow you whole.

People that decided to return the favor. Two last minute ditches, and one that completely ghosted you. They’re just busy, you thought, a dirty martini and a half in. They have real jobs, and spouses, and… kids? Maybe?

Pouty and miserable at the sleek bar, drowning your insecurities in alcohol, picking at the olives at the bottom of empty glasses. They’re too- too good for me, anyway. 

Having found some semblance of happiness in an unlikely friendship with Adrian Chase, you thought you’d finally venture out, expand your social circle again. Feel like you have everything together, finally.

Learn to experience snatches of happiness elsewhere, outside of time spent with Adrian. Because, face it: there is something that feels slippery about him. Evanescent. Like one day he’s going to disappear, or get bored of you.

Or reveal whatever secrets he’s been clearly harboring, something neither of you could return from, and the wedge that it would drive between you would leave you right back to where you started: a ghost that didn’t even have the good grace to properly die. 

You walk -- stagger, really -- down the empty street, most of your weight supported by the masked Vigilante. Adrian is supposedly under that mask. You cannot wrap your head around this fact, even after watching Vigilante answer Adrian’s phone, and say some bullshit excuse only Adrian could come up with. 

“Alright, here we are!” Vigilante (Adrian?) declares. “The Vigilante-mobile.”

You both come to a stop. You squint bleary-eyed at the 4-door sedan, glance at the masked face beside you, then back to the car. 

“It’s just your regular car.”

Vigilante -- no, Adrian, definitely Adrian -- snorts. “Well, yeah. I can’t exactly afford a second car with a busboy salary.”

This almost makes you laugh, because Adrian is good at that, really. Effortless. But nausea stirs in your gut, so you decide against it. Grumble a wordless response instead. 

Adrian attempts to ease you into the passenger seat, asking if you’re hurt anywhere else. If they hurt you in any worse ways other than the obvious. You can only shake your head noncommittally, fighting back the urge to vomit again. There will definitely be bruises and sore spots on your aching body from the rough way they had handled you, but you know what he’s really asking.

Head slumped back against the headrest, you close your eyes for a few minutes. You have to buckle up, Adrian urges, but you cannot find the strength or the energy to pull the seat belt around your body. A pathetic little huff is all you can really muster before Adrian, patient and gentle, pulls the seat belt around your torso and fastens you in place. 

Unfortunately, the gentle action is buffeted by the coppery scent that washes over you, the roughness of his gloves and suit briefly scraping your skin; this doesn’t smell like Adrian. Not like the familiar Irish Spring soap, or coffee and caramel after visiting you at the cafe. This makes you whine. Whimper, really, dissatisfied and uncomfortable and very momentarily scared. 

Misunderstanding, he tells you you’re going to be okay, in a voice that’s a touch too animated for the general mood of the night.

When the door is shut, you try not to suffocate in the brief silence that follows. Keep your eyes closed as the muffled thud of the trunk jolts the car a bit, willing the queasiness away. Desperately wishing for water, or sleep, or death. 

You do not open your eyes when Adrian finally gets in the car, and starts driving, until he mentions something about taking you home. At that point, your eyes fly open.

“No,” you beg. “No, Adrian, please. I can’t go home like this. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

There’s a quiver in your voice. Nervousness builds in your chest, a rapid flutter in your ribs that makes you feel like crying. Adrian stares, eyes flicking from your face to the quickening rise and fall of your chest, and you realize it’s just Adrian sitting next to you, now. Wearing normal clothes. No blood-splattered suit or eerie red visor. Just the familiar--if slightly disheveled--curly hair and glasses, lips parted in confusion or concern. Seeing his bare face is almost a comfort, especially when he nods, and faces the road again. 

The trip to Adrian’s apartment becomes a hazy memory. He walks you through the corridors of some small apartment complex until you’re trudging through the threshold of his home, where he guides you through the dark into his bedroom. You sag into the edge of his bed once he turns on the light. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up, but… do you need water?” Adrian asks. You only stare back up at him before he goes, “right, yeah, no, you definitely need water. Wait right here.”

When he comes back, Adrian is juggling a couple of bottles of water and a first-aid kit to dress your wound. He sets everything down, handing you a chilled water bottle which you gratefully accept. You cannot unscrew the cap of the bottle fast enough to immediately quench the discomfort of your sandpaper tongue. 

“Slow sips,” Adrian says, after some reckless guzzling causes you to choke and dribble water all over your chin. 

Setting the bottle aside, you notice stands with his back to you on the other side of the room. You realize this is him giving you privacy so you can begin the struggle of taking off the stockings. They get halfway down your thighs, dress rucked up around your hips, before the effort of it unlocks a well of tears; a flash of a memory of being six years old and left to fend for yourself for the first time in a fight to tug on tights for school.

It’s not that you’re so inebriated that you can’t take off your stockings, though it certainly doesn’t help. It’s that once you get the fabric rolled down to your skinned knee, a new wave of nausea overcomes you. You can feel the mesh of the tear sticking to the gooey wet parts of the wound, and your mind reels with the dizzying thought that if you tug anymore, you’re going to make it worse. Take more skin off. Bleed all over Adrian’s bedsheets. Throw up again, probably.

It’s just for a brief second, you don’t let the feeling last too long, but-- the quick snatch and tug of the nylon on the tattered skin of your knee reminds you of one of the Saw movies, and how one of the traps involved gluing some poor fuck’s bare back to the driver’s seat of a car. And the way he had to peel off the seat, screaming and sweating, struggling to reach the -- the brakes? The gas? -- just to try to save some girl’s life. The stretch of skin, the vivid gleam of blood, your memory no doubt enhancing the gore of the scene in a new wave of despair.

When Adrian turns around, he finds you with your face hidden in the cusp of your palms, stockings only rolled down to the tops of your knees. Your dress is still bunched up around your hips, and maybe you should feel exposed, sitting on Adrian’s bed with your thighs bared. Embarrassed, even. But between the ick in your stomach and the sour taste at the back of your throat and the headache that begins to pulse behind your eyes like remnants of the bassline from the club, you don’t have any room to care. 

(And, admittedly. You don’t think you’d mind Adrian seeing this much of you. Under different circumstances, at least.)

You sense him hovering closer, probably paused at the sight of you all pathetic on his bed. Or the bare flesh of your thighs, more likely. Something unintelligible is mumbled into your hands in an attempt to draw his attention. Let him know you’re aware of his presence, and that you’re lucid, at the very least.

“Sorry- what?”

You sniffle, before mustering up the strength to raise your head up. But only enough to stare at his feet. “I can’t- My tights. I can’t… take them off.”

You watch as his scuffed up shoes approach you. Absently, you think about how Adrian hasn’t worn these before, even though it’s gotten cold. And, oh, they’re probably just part of his Vigilante costume. 

Ah. Vigilante. Adrian. 

“Whoa… what do you mean?” Adrian crouches down, his bespectacled gaze in your sight, and you realize the quick, short breaths you hear are your own. “Are you going to cry again? I have tissues here on my nightstand- for, like, normal reasons. Nothing gross. Ignore the lotion.”

There’s a very small part of you that knows this would have -- should have -- made you laugh. It’s the part of you that feels detached from this whole experience, as if watching from outside of your body. Like a muted, sober-ish ghost that can’t do anything but observe. Helpless. Unable to keep you safe.

You can’t even take off your fucking tights by yourself.

“The- the cut on my knee,” you attempt to warble through your explanation. “It’s, um- it feels weird. I don’t think I can take off my tights…”

“Well, we have to dress the wound otherwise it might get infected.” Adrian pauses, raises his hands so they hover over your lap. “Is it okay if I..?”

When you nod -- shakily, fearfully, desperately -- his hands continue their journey to your right thigh. His middle and forefingers, surprisingly gentle, slip into the scrunched up fabric at the base of your knee, and a shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his hands there. There is a feeling that slowly blooms in your chest at the sight of Adrian on his knees for you, taking care of you. But it’s being overshadowed by the anxiety gripping your throat and making your head spin in anticipation of the potential pain to come from your tights being ripped from your bloody knee.

No longer able to keep upright, you gracelessly plop back into the soft sheets, ceiling swaying in your vision. You make no effort to get back up; not like you wanted to watch the horror of Adrian potentially ripping the skin off your knee.

His voice, with a touch of anger that’s still unusual to hear, cuts through the haze of worry. “I hate those motherfuckers for doing this to you.”

A humorless, breathy snort escapes at that, shame sapping the energy out of you. “That wasn’t their fault,” you mumble. “‘M not tryin’ to defend them or anything, but it was my stupid, drunk ass that tripped and got myself into this whole mess…”

Because the truth is, if you hadn’t drunkenly stumbled down the wrong street when trying to find your Uber, if you hadn’t worn heels that don’t feel natural on your feet anymore, if you hadn’t felt so anguished and lonely that you sought solace in a few too many cocktails-

If you had just been a better friend to the people that made your high school years bearable, you wouldn’t have been crowded and overpowered by strange men with horrifying intentions. 

“Were you… by yourself?” Adrian’s voice carries over you while he’s still somewhere at your knees. “Where were those friends of yours? The ones you were meeting up with?”

The heels of your palms dig furiously into your closed eyes until you’re seeing black and red and you’re sure your eyeballs are just about to successfully squish into your skull. “They never showed up,” you admit, hoarsely, dejectedly.

Moments pass. There’s this light, almost lulling feeling, the tug and pull of your right leg. If you weren’t drowning in the barrage of negative thoughts and guilt and the kind of worthlessness that only creeps up on you in your own bedroom, you’d find Adrian’s ministrations comforting. 

“Don’t get mad, but it doesn’t sound like they were very good friends if they abandoned you to drink alone at club a in a sketchy neighborhood.”

But isn’t that what I deserve?

See- 

You left. Most people did after high school, but you made it a staunch point to never come back. 

You didn’t mean to abandon the friends you made in Evergreen. But life went on, and time passed quicker than you could make sense of, and fuck if you didn’t find any excuse to not come back home during breaks -- internships, supposedly important trips for school, job-hunting, moving in with your first love -- all so you could prolong seeing your family again.

What’s so bad about them, anyway?

They make me feel-

A sharp sting of pain rips you out of dark muddled thoughts, hissing through clenched teeth as you shoot into an upright position, lurching forward. 

“Sorry, sorry! But I did warn you.”

Oh, right. Adrian. You’re in Adrian’s bedroom, and he’s currently at your knees, hair still rumpled and eyes shining bright and concerned behind his glasses. And… he’s holding an alcohol pad. And your knee is…

“You got the tights off?” you ask in breathless disbelief.

“Yeah. I had to cut it up, though.” He grimaces. “Sorry. But it was already torn, so…”

Sure enough, the area around your knee is now fully exposed and free of any sticky mesh. The cut was beginning to scab over, but the alcohol pad made it newly shiny. It stings, but at least it doesn’t look like whatever nightmare scenario you’d been afraid of.

Adrian continues cleaning up and bandaging your wound as you look away, too light-headed to watch him work. It’s not until he’s gently pressing a bandage to your knee that you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding. 

“There, all done.” Adrian stands, gathering everything up with careful, unrushed movements. “Let me get you something to sleep in.”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, confused. 

He’s rummaging through a dresser drawer, back turned to you when he responds. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to fall asleep in ripped clothes.” Turning around with some folded clothes in his hands, he continues, “I don’t imagine it’d be very comfortable. Plus, what if you wake up, not remembering what happened--you know, because of the drinking-- and you’re in my bed with a ripped dress? How does that make me look? It’d be pretty hard to convince you I didn’t do anything to you.”

He hands you the clothes--a big soft tee-shirt and sweatpants--and turns to leave. There is a cacophony of feelings clamoring around in your head and in your heart, and you find yourself helplessly overwhelmed once again but also, endlessly grateful for this man that saved your life. Not just tonight, but the night he stepped into your cafe painfully close to closing and made things feel silly and good again. 

“Adrian?” you softly call out as he turns to leave you to change.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re my best friend.”

Something expands in his chest when Adrian hears those words come out of your mouth. Like a frog puffing up with a croak, or a balloon that’s filled to bursting but doesn’t want to pop. He thinks he was a kid the last time he actually heard someone tell him, to his face, that he’s their best friend.

Sure, the admittance wavered out in an alcohol-infused breath, and he’s not sure how much you had to drink tonight but it may be enough to forget this moment.

But he wasn’t drinking. He’ll hold onto this moment forever.

A smile grows crooked on his face as he hovers by the door, meeting your gaze. “Yeah?”

You nod, holding the clothes handed to you lamely in your lap. There’s something glum about the sag of your shoulders, but he can’t think about that too much in his rush to assure you that you’re his best friend, too. Top 3, definitely.

This makes you snort, which he counts as another win for the night since it’s the first sound of laughter he’s heard since finding you in the alley.

He finally leaves you to change, and to get some much needed rest, and grins from ear to ear at the knowledge that the person he’s liked since high school is in his bed tonight.

Despite the comfort of Adrian’s tee-shirt, the smell of him in his clothes and sheets, the softness of it all wrapped around you, you do not sleep well.

You dream of dark alleyways and even darker figures crowding you, overpowering you. Limbs boneless, unable to fight back. When you scream, it’s not loud enough. There’s a thumping bass reverberating off brick walls that drowns out your cries for help. 

It’s frustrating. This powerlessness. The feeling of utter uselessness, frightening to your core. 

Then, the dream shifts. You are no longer being crowded and pinned by the shadowed figures, yet fear still grips you, clings to your skin, hot and wet- when you look down, the sticky wet feeling isn’t fear but blood, splattered all over your clothes and dripping from your arms. You want to feel triumph, search for the feeling in the recesses of your brain, you want so badly for that to replace the anxiousness gripping your lungs now that you’re free.

But when you look back up, you see viscera-laden bricks. Bodies with holes where they shouldn’t be, missing pieces. This is still a nightmare.  A familiar voice, tainted by something dark and unrecognizably sinister, laughs at the mouth of the alley. It’s another shadowy figure, red visor glowing in your direction. “You’re okay now,” he says, tone unsettling, too-chipper. “They’re all dead!”

taglist: @whatevermonkey @nobodys-baby-now @hiddlebatchedloki @pokoyolfhw

[thisisallthehattersfault]

I'm so intrigued by ritual behavior in animals. Many animals practice what we can only describe as funerary rights and veneration of the dead, while certain species of ape and elephant have displayed behaviors not unlike sun-worship, being aware of and showing some kind of reverence for celestial bodies.

I like to think, if the Straw Hats were ever to worship Luffy, Chopper would be the first to do it. It would be an instinctive thing, and maybe worship wouldn't be the right word for it. Reverence doesn't fit -- he has been elbow-deep in his captain's chest, he has seen Luffy (seen all his crew-mates) reduced to sweat and blood and vomit. He has washed the filth of survival from their faces and tipped water to their lips and held death at bay with sutures and splints and antidotes. The flesh is not a holy thing; the body is not be sanctified (except of course that it is, it is, and no one knows that better than a doctor.)

Chopper is less animal now than he was before he ate his fruit, but he is nature’s creature still. He can feel the seasonal climate of a new island in his bones as they approach. His fur prickles when danger is near. When his crew forage for supplies in strange new places, Chopper follows the scent of clean water and green, growing things until it leads him to resources he can bring back to the herd.

And when the sun rises, he tips his face into its light and feels the warmth seep into him.

There is a profound gratitude winter creatures feel towards the sun. Nights on Drum were always so very long, and the snow so thick. In deep winter even the evergreens had a hard time catching enough of the gray, watery light to keep themselves alive. It wasn’t uncommon for Chopper’s original herd to spend hours or days foraging and only find barely enough to eat. When the sun emerged enough to melt the snow and pull tender, edible shoots up from the earth, coax sweet green leaves to bud on the tips of barren branches, it always felt like a gift to be cherished.

After he ate the fruit and became something that is neither reindeer nor human and not quite a proper mix of the two, something that is maybe not only difficult to classify but downright incorrect — when he became whatever he now is, and gained the ability to perceive a world so much greater than himself, he felt that was exactly what the sun was: something greater than himself. Something greater than his herd, or the human settlements, or either of the good Doctors that raised him. Something greater than the evergreen forests or the snowy fields. Greater even than the long, dark winter. Doctor Hiriluk taught him, of course, what the sun is made of, but that didn’t make it seem any less like magic to Chopper. This huge, burning thing, so far away and unimaginably powerful and yet it reaches its fingers down and down and down into the snow and tugs up plants for the reindeer to eat. Ancient and unreachable and unapproachable, but still it warms his fur. Still it melts the snow caps into streams of clean, clear water that teem with life in the summertime.

Right from the beginning, Luffy does for Chopper what the sun does for the snow fields. He gives warmth and persistent, blinding light until the icy top-layer has gone to slush and everything beneath sprouts anew, growing strong and reaching up towards the sun. Chopper boards the Going Merry for the first time and his bones ache like spring has come, and under Luffy Chopper does as all green things do in the sunlight: he grows. He learns and trains and overcomes, until he feels less like those tender spring shoots and more like the evergreens, standing tall, unbowed by the winter.

It makes sense to me for Chopper to be the first of the crew to look at Luffy and understand that he is something else. Something more. Something greater than himself. Maybe not consciously, but instinctively, not in mind but in gut and marrow. If Luffy is to Chopper what sunlight is to the snowfields then it’s only right the rest of the world, too, should get to tilt their faces to the light of the sun and feel it’s warmth seep into them. The crew learns about Nika and Joyboy and ancient prophecies and Sun Gods given form, that Luffy is something that is neither human nor god and not quite a proper mix of the two, and Chopper tucks his nose into Luffy’s hip and digs his horns into Luffy's belly until Luffy reaches down to pat him, and thinks, I could have told you that.

[bright-side20]

Elain X Ivy 🌸🌿

In Greek mythology, ivy is associated with the god of wine, Dionysus. It helped him grow safely by shielding him from Hera's gaze. It provided a natural cover, helping him stay safe from harm, making it a symbol of fertility, growth (as it is a climbing evergreen plant), and protection. Dionysus used to wear an ivy crown because it was believed to prevent intoxication, and he used its poisonous berries as a hangover cure.

In Celtic mythology, ivy symbolizes determination, endurance, and rebirth as it survives the harshest conditions, always finding a way to climb towards the sky.

In association with Elain:

"She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gate to her mind was solid iron covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns."(ACOWAR)

I think this hints at Elain's powers in connection with nature and gardening, which were dormant, waiting to bloom into their full potential. By silver flames, we know that she started to work on whatever "powers" she possesses, so we're sure she's not only a seer.

And here's the interview with Sarah in ACOFAS where she said:

So I don't think the dreams about ivy are a bad thing, but rather her powers awakening. The struggles she'll experience in her dreams represent the initial challenge of understanding and controlling her newfound powers. By embracing these dreams and working on mastering her abilities, she will unlock her full potential, which I think might involve controlling plants. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also when I read about Dionysus using ivy for protection from intoxication and as medicine, it made me think that Elain could also learn to utilize plants for healing or poisoning.

I'm so excited for that book! 😭

[miaatiny]

Dazzling- P.SH

Chapter 1

You were of sun and warmth… he was from ice and cold. How has people from completely different kingdoms been brought together in marriage? Could you learn to love Seonghwa and his kingdom, or would you let your family down?

Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, mdni! Do not read if you are under 18!

Warning: Seonghwa is a hoe, reader says goodbye to her kingdom to marry said hoe

Your lungs hurt. Burned. You were running as fast as you can. You were running to the meadow behind your family’s castle. Tree branches hit your face, thorns ripped your dress. Finally you made it to the clearing. You walked through the meadow as the tall grass danced around you in the soft wind. You walked to the top of the hill. This was all of yours. You were free. No one would take it away from you.

You were going to miss Calor. Calor was your home, your birthplace. It was where your friends, your family and the people of the village you loved resided. The land of Aurora was split into four kingdoms. Calor, the hot and sunny. Evergreen, the plentiful. That where most of your produce came from. Terra, known for it rainy and cloudy weather, and the land you were being wed to, Azure. Azure was known for its icy harbor and harsh, cold climate. The people inn Calor. were all you knew of. Your heart hurt to know that in just four short days you were being taken away from it. It was your duty that when you turned eighteen you would find a husband of a wealthy kingdom that could bring an alliance between Calor and theirs. Your parents found you a noble match, and you were leaving to live with him. You had only met him once, during a ball your parents had hosted. He was handsome, a complete gentleman. You had no problem with him, in fact you found him quit charming. You just didn’t want to be married. You wanted to be free to do whatever you wanted. You felt like marriage was a prison. You wanted to rule Calor on your own. But alas, that could not be. Your elder brother Hyunwoo was the heir to the throne.

You heard the trumpets at the gates sounding below you from the balcony. You looked down to see there was a carriage approaching. The cariage shown colors of blue and silver that were growing familiar to you. It was the royal colors of Azure, the kingdom your soon to be husband was from. Your soon to be home. You heard footsteps behind you to see it was Lia, your lady in waiting.

"Your highness, your parents have requested for you at the dinner table. You need to prepare to see the prince." Lia gave you a kind smile. You had been friends since childhood. Always sneaking out to the village to attend festivals late at night, hiding from your parents so you didn't have to attend royal dinners and balls that you thought were boring. It made you feel better that she was going to be able to go with you to Azure. At least you would have some piece of home there.

"Of course," you smiled back to your dear friend, "Lead the way."

You walked down the long staircase in your fanciest dress. It was a white satin gown with gold embroidery. The colors of your kingdom. The staircase led into the dining hall where your family and the family of your soon to be husband were waiting for you appearance. You heard them stand up, awaiting your arrival. You took one last step before you turned the bend and you came into view. Your father was seated at the head of the table, with your mother to his left, and your brother next to her. Seonghwa’s parents were to his right, and there was Seonghwa. He wore a dark blue suit with a silver sash. Azure’s colors. You took a deep breath before being led to the table by your handmaid and sat across from Seonghwa. Everyone sat at the table and your father started to speak.

“We are very pleased to welcome the Park family to Calor. It is an honor to join alliances with Azure.” You and your brother paid no mind to the speech your father was making, and you kicked each other under the table. You both were trying your hardest not to laugh. Your mother heard you both snicker and gave you both a harsh glare which made you both straighten up in your seats. You looked up at Seonghwa and seen he was looking at you with complete seriousness. Obviously not impressed with your sense of humor. You finally stop laughing just in time for the meal to begin. You haven’t ate today since you had been practicing horse riding, a vital thing for you to know in Azure. It was asked by your soon to be husband you learn. Your father then made sure you spent most of your morning practicing.

“What foods do you like to eat, y/n? So, we can be sure to have them made for you.” Your future mother-in-law asks you. You give her a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, I like all foods."

"Except fish." Your brother chimed in. You sent him a serious look as to tell him to be quiet.

"Well, that's too bad. Azure is known for ice fishing. In fact, it's a big sport in Azure. Perhaps you would adapt." Your future father-in-law suggested. This made you slump down in your seat in embarrassment. You looked up at Seonghwa and realized he was watching one of your maids, Lily, pour drinks around the table with dark eyes. No one else seemed to notice but you. When he finally turned his attention to you, he had a look of annoyance on his face. You looked away and continued conversing with his and your family for the rest of the meal.

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Dinner could have gone much better. Seonghwa was almost completely quiet and excused himself early. In a way, you hoped your father would realize he wasn't a suitable match for you and call off the wedding. Unfortunately, your father wanted the alliance with Azure desperately. They had the one thing Calor did not, and that was water routes. Calor sat in a inland moor with thick forests surrounding the kingdom. Azure sat on the cold and windy coast, very accessible for ships to carry goods in and out. Calor would get supplies much faster with Azure's alliance. You were just very grateful the Parks were fond of you and your families got along great. Lady Park has even offered to give you mentoring to rule Azure one day. Azure was known to be a harsh a cruel kingdom. Crimes were harshly punished, whereas and Calor they were not. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. If one day you were to rule Azure, you would need all the help you could get.

You were currently walking back to your room when you heard soft moans coming from one of the maids' chambers. You stopped in your tracks and realized it was Lily's chambers this noise was coming from. You gently leaned against the door and your eyes blew wide and your stomach knotted when you heard a certain name.

"Nngh, Seonghwa. It feels so good." The audible grunts and groans from your fiancé were apparent of what was happening behind the door. Quickly, you rushed down the hall to your chambers. You couldn't believe that he was here fucking one of your maids when he was set to wed you in three days. Did he really not care about any of this that much? Anger filled you as you stripped yourself of your dress and into your night clothes. As angry as you were, there was a part of you deep down that was heartbroken. He will never love you as his wife...

It kept repeating throughout your head until you silently cried yourself to sleep.

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The next day, you spent horse riding around the courtyard. You were lucky your trainer was your childhood friend, Yunho. He was excellent at horse riding and was even training to become a carrier for goods across the kingdoms. You were so proud of his accomplishments. You would miss him probably most of all. You dismounted your horse to take a quick break so you could have lunch. Yunho led you to the gardens where he set down a basket full of prepared food for the both of you to enjoy.

"How do you feel since your wedding is in a week?” Yunho asked as he bit into his sandwich. You weren't really sure how to answer his question, especially since what you experienced last night.

"I wish my father would find another way to make Azure our ally." Yunho chucked beside you. "It can't be that bad, y/n. Just think, it will be a whole new experience for you." You took a bite of your sandwich and looked around at the beauty around you. Calor is all you would ever want. Nothing will change that.

"But I don't really want that Yuyu. Calor is my home. I belong here. With all of you." Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at your best friend. He wrapped his arm around you and gave you a small hug. "It will be okay, princess. You can always come visit. It will still always be your home." Yunho made you smile as he wiped your tears away. "I'm going to miss you so much Yunho." You said, hugging him back. "As will I, princess." This will always be your home. No matter what.

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The day you dreaded most had arrived. Your maids were currently loading your stuff into the Park family's carriage. Seonghwa’s parents had left the next day after the dinner so it was just Seonghwa escorting you to Azure. Seonghwa stayed behind to to settle some final details in the alliance. You were taking one final walk around your palace before you said goodbye to your family and citizens. You were standing on the balcony overlooking Calor when you heard footsteps approach you from behind. You turned to look and seen it was Seonghwa. He stood beside you on the balcony and looked out over the kingdom. He let out a deep sigh before speaking.

"I'm sorry there's no way out of this. Believe me, I've tried." You didn't look at him. Tears formed in your eyes because in just one hour, you would be leaving your home and moving from your paradise of warm sunny days to a kingdom of freezing ice and snow. Seonghwa gently touched your arm, pulling you out of your trance. It was the first time he has ever touched you besides when he placed a ring on your finger at your engagement ceremony. "It's time to go, y/n."

You and Seonghwa walked down the royal staircase. At the bottom, your family was waiting by the door. Outside of the royal gates, citizens of Calor lined up to bid you farewell. You looked towards your mother who had tears in her eyes. She reached for you and hugged you tightly.

"Be safe, my darling girl." You mother said to you.

"I will, mother. I will come home soon." She touched your cheek gently and you looked towards your brother. He had a sad smile on his face.

"I always wanted to get rid of you. I guess now's my chance." He said with a lighthearted laugh. "You could never get rid of me, Hyunwoo." You said and stuck your tongue out at him.

"I know. And I never would actually want to. I'm going to miss my partner in crime." He said as he hugged you gently. You stepped back to look at your father. He was never one to show emotion, but it was clear in the way he nodded his head to you he loved you. You turned to look at Seonghwa and he held his hand out for you to lead you to the carriage. S As you were walking by, you heard Lily and a couple other maids talking and snickering. One of them spoke just loud enough for you to hear. "Wait until the princess finds out about the concubines he has lined up." They continued to laugh as you walked by, and you looked back at Lily and seen she had a smirk on her face. You looked up at Seonghwa who was focused on getting you to the carriage. Did he really already have concubines lined up? You wanted to run away, beg your father to end this. However, your fate was sealed. There was no turning back.

Seonghwa helped you into the carriage. He sat down across from you in silence and stared out the window. The carriage was exiting the palace gates, and you see all of your citizens of Calor waving goodbye to you. You waved back at them, not knowing when the next time you would see them or your family. You just hoped in Azure you could find a way to happiness.

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Finally! After three months, the first chapter of Dazzling is complete. This has been a hard series to plan for, so expect many twists and turns as the story unfolds! As all my other fics, please leave a comment and reblog! I love feedback! I hope everyone enjoys Dazzling.

miaatiny, 2024

[eryiss]

[Fraxus] - Multifaceted Part 2

Or: The 5 Times Laxus Learned of a New Skill Freed Possessed, & The 1 Time He Fell Victim To Them

Summary: For the rest of the world, it had been seven years. For the members of Fairy Tail it had all been in the blink of an eye. But, for Laxus, that was more than enough time for his closest friend to seem like an entirely new person. This self assured, competent Freed was something new to Laxus, and he found himself enjoying it. Perhaps a little too much… Note: Part two. Arrival of the Bickslow. Hope you all enjoy.

Links: Ao3, Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

2: Crochet

"Thanks for helping with this," Laxus grunted as he hefted a grocery bag into his side so he could struggle for his keys. "I owe you one."

"Don't sweat it," Bickslow shrugged, his own grocery bags shifting precariously. One looked ready to fall, and required some odd shunting movements to stop it from sliding to the floor. Bickslow grinned, watching as Laxus struggled getting his keys from his pocket; this was what happened when you wore such snug pants. "Why'd you even need this much food, anyway? Freed a hoarder now?"

"Nah, Mirajane's got him doing catering for the Yuletide festival. He's been planning the menu for a week now and this," he hefted his bag again, "is for the test run. Apparently Mira needs to taste test everything to give her approval. Don't even know how she found out he could cook."

Bickslow, taking pity on Laxus, reached over and carefully took the only bag Laxus was holding, jamming it in between the two others in a precarious grasp that barely looked safe. Laxus quickly reached into his pocket, unlocked the door, taking the bag back before they all fell to the ground.

"It's a mystery," Bickslow commented, humming theatrically. "However could she have found out? What a pickle."

Laxus halted, his hand reaching for his apartment's door handle. "What's that mean?"

"It means that maybe, and I'm just spitballin', she heard that Freed could cook from his big blonde roommate who has been bragging about his culinary expertise - exact quote - to literally anyone in the guild willing to listen."

The glare Laxus sent Bickslow's way might have been more intimidating had it not been partially obscured by a sauce bottle jutting into his lip. "That is crap and you know it."

"Disagree."

"I mentioned it maybe three times at most," Laxus huffed, glancing at the door as if Freed might have his ear pushed against the other side. "To you, to Evergreen, and to the Metalhead when he wouldn't shut up about why I smelled like gravy."

"Yep, and that, coming from you, is like a normal person hosting a parade," Bickslow grinned. "Now, open up. I wanna know what it's like in the Justine-Dreyar household."

"You're an idiot," Laxus grunted, going to open the door only to hault himself again. "Why was his name first?"

"Oh baby, if you don't know that then I can't help you."

Deciding not to put too much thought into what that meant, Laxus opened the door to his and Freed's tiny apartment. The Lacrima was softly playing some classical music, and Freed was sat at the dinner table, hunched over and facing away from them both. He looked over his shoulder, eyes first hitting Laxus, then Bickslow. His eyes widened, he turned back to the table, and covered something with one of his books.

After sharing a glance with each other, Laxus and Bickslow placed the bags of food onto the counter and turned to their friend, who was glaring at Bickslow, daring him to move. Bickslow took a step forward, and the threat in Freed's expression all but doubled. Despite not knowing what was going on, Laxus grinned and leant back to watch.

"Out," Freed demanded.

"Why?" Bickslow whined, walking towards Freed again. Freed's gaze narrowed, not once leaving him.

"Out," Freed repeated.

Bicksow huffed, crossed his arms, then suddenly jolted. His arm shot out and he pointed at the book, which covered whatever he was hiding. "Gift!" He exclaimed, looking at Laxus with a wide grin. "My Yuletide present is under there, isn't it? He's making me something."

"Out," Freed raised his voice for that demand.

"Fine, fine," Bickslow put his hands up in surrender, stepping back from the table. "I'm going, just first I gotta do this!"

He all but launched himself over the table, and Laxus winced at it creaked under his weight. Bickslow cursed loudly, and Laxus watched as he pulled his hand away from a shining wall of runes that had covered the book and hidden gift. Bickslow looked down at his fingers with a forced pathetic expression, then made a big show of clutching at his hand, staggering around the small room.

Laxus put the spectacle to the back of his mind for a moment as he looked over the table. Bickslow had said Freed was making him something. Freed could make gifts? On the table, other than the book, was a few stray pieces of brown yawn and a barely visible needle. Was he knitting?

"The brutality!" Bickslow almost yelled, the culmination of his self pity. He then swooned in Laxus' direction, who quickly sidestepped so Bickslow knocked his head on the kitchen cupboards. He stood up straight, pouting at Laxus. "Mean."

"But satisfaying,"Laxus shrugged. "He's not gonna show ya, might as well leave."

"Well, fine then," Bickslow wobbled his lower lip. "I know when I'm not wanted. Goodbye you cruel, evil men, who have no care for your fellow man. You're truly meant for each other!"

He wiggled his eyebrows at Laxus as he retreated, and Laxus slammed the door in his face before snapping to look over to Freed. It didn't look like he'd seen Bickslow's expression, which was good. Why such a patently Bickslow action would worry Laxus on such an instinctive level was something he didn't know, but he was glad he was the only one who had seen it.

To busy himself, he put the groceries in the fridge, freezer and cupboard in a way that wouldn't lead to Freed complaining. The kitchen had really become his domaine, and Laxus was happy to comply to his rules. Once it was done, he collapsed into the armchair that would be his bed for the night, and saw that Freed hadn't removed the book.

"What actually is it?" He asked.

"Bickslow's gift," Freed played with the spine of the book absently.

"And is there a reason it's still hidden even though he's gone."

"He's devious, one of his dolls could be hiding somewhere," Freed shrugged slightly. It was a clear lie, and Laxus wasn't going to let it pass. He stared him down, and Freed leant back in his chair. "Well, given that our funds are somewhat… non existent this year, I've chosen to make your gifts by hand. They're all somewhat in the same vein of each other."

"Okay," Laxus nodded. "Don't show me if you don't wanna, but I'm not gonna throw a tantrum if I see something somewhat similar to what you got me."

"Right, right, of course not. Forgive me, I'm still in Bickslow mode," Freed waved a hand as if to dismiss the mindset. "Well, erm, this is it."

He lifted the book, but did nothing more. Laxus hauled himself up and walked to the table, picking up the gift and assessing it. It was one of Bickslow's dolls, with a goofy smile looking up at Laxus, made entirely out of yarn. It had been crocheted, pretty damn well too. It was good. Really good. Freed had made this?

When he looked up, Freed was fiddling with the Lacrima, obviously as an excuse to look anywhere but Laxus' way. So this was important to him, that was fine. Laxus would bolster his confidence, and it would be ridiculously easy because Freed was apparently a crochet savant.

Also, he was being vulnerable. That was new, for both of them.

"This is great," Laxus said, aiming for flippancy. As much as this clearly meant something to Freed, Laxus knew it wouldn't be best to make a big deal about it. "It's really impressive."

"Thank you," Freed said, a little bluntly, but Laxus could see his smile. He was damn pretty when he smiled. "And I'm glad you like it, because I'm not lying when I say you'll get something very similar."

"Looking forward to it."

Two weeks later, in the still too small guildhall, Laxus opened a wrapped box with his name written on a tag in Freed's handwriting. He had settled in a corner to open it, away from prying eyes and the inevitable thrown spells that happened at every Fairy Tail party, and slid the lid off the box.

A small, crocheted lightning bolt sat before him, with a black Fairy Tail emblem in the centre of it. Tucked below it was a small note, also in Freed's handwriting, with the simple message of 'Glad To Have You Back' written on it.

Laxus smiled, running his hands over the lines of yawn. He gave it a little squeeze, watching with almost childish amusement as it bounced back into shape. He looked up and caught Freed glancing at him. He raised the lightning bolt, mouthed a 'thank you' and made sure Freed was watching as he tucked it into the inner breast pocket of his coat, where it would remain.

Except on missions. He'd keep it safe at home on missions. He wasn't going to risk it getting damaged. Not for a moment.