#it's the way it's the only happy ending presented

[whispsofwind]

I am probably (definitely) kicking the hornet's nest but... I feel like there's a disconnection in how people approach HP because I've seen so many people say "but aren't the books explicitly anti racism? How can the author be all those bad things if her books are explicitly anti racism?".

And the point is... they're not. At least they weren't intended to be: the whole pure blood thing is less about race, and more about the ridiculous "noble blood" classism that still exists in England. And once I got that I completely revaluated my interpretation of those books.

I loved those books as a child, and I am not going to sit here and tell they're all vad, because they're not. They ARE a cultural phenomenon that shaped both pop culture and Internet culture for the last 20 freaking years, though. And they will continue to do so, if nothing else because outside of the English speaking sphere, PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT JOANNE'S HATE CAMPAIGNS. Like I cannot emphasise enough, not English speaking people often don't know.

And therefore I feel it's important not only to speak up about the author, but also analyse where the books succeeded or failed, and why.

The elves were adapted from the brownies... with disastrous results, especially if you consider Hermione's campaign. The metaphor with licantropism is an absolute disaster. The way in which muggles are presented (either evil, stupid or both) is ... also not a good look, considering the context. The series is genuinely morally confused, I dare say. It professes the importance of Love TM while also refusing to take a critical look at its own dystopian world building.

Death of the author, or separating the art from the author, are also not supposed to be an absolute frame of reference. They are literary analysis tools that allow you to analyse a work without taking the will of the author into consideration (example: CS Lewis was deeply Catholic and intended Susan not going to Narnia in the end as a metaphor for loss of faith. However maybe I want to analyses Susan's arc in light of misogyny, and the correlation between sexuality and loss of innocence, rather than religion. I am literally ignoring authorial intent to do so, but it's a very valid reading).

However I feel like you cannot analyse any work of art in an absolute vacuum, and expurging the author from the art completely feels, to me, rather simplistic.

I am also not entirely comfortable with the idea of Death of the Author being used as a frame of reference for the relationship with the work AND the author, rather than being used as a simple literary tool.

I always felt like the better approach is to evaluate how to cause less damage and bring the most happiness all around. Does buying the work of Lovecraft cause any harm in this world? I would argue not, since the man is well enough dead. Does buying HP products, or Orson Scott Card's works, or Silvana de Mari's books, cause harm? I would argue yes, because these authors use they money and their platforms to attach real, vulnerable people in a systemic way right here right now. Does SPEAKING about those works cause harm? Does engaging with the fandom aspect of them cause harm? That's more complicated. Critical analysis of a work is, imo, always a net positive, and there's the very real fact that some people pour their hearts and souls into a fandom because it genuinely brings happiness to them and to people around them, and because it allows them to enhance the original world in order to ACTUALLY address the issues that were ignored. That cannot be discounted. However, at the same time it cannot be ignored that talking about a work keeps it alive, which keeps it marketable; then again, fandom's impact on ... anything large scale is negligible when compared to, again, thousands upon thousands of people across the world who don't look the author up, don't engage critically with the text, and just think the Hogwarts Lego Model looks super cute. Which is, like, 90% of the population.

I suppose the main conclusion is nuance: morality is complicated, and making the "morally right" choice is nuanced, deeply personal, and I am not going to judge anyone because they want to reread Harry Potter or want to watch Good Omens Season 3 or whatever, because the world and our impact in it is much more complicated than "person bad, therefore damnatio memoriae good".

hey do you think you could expand a bit on separating the art from the artist? clearly you’ve done it with jk rowling but what are your thoughts on it as a general idea?

okay, but you’re not going to like the answer.

here’s the truth: you can’t separate the art from the artist. not entirely. HP Lovecraft was an incredibly talented, but much more incredibly racist man. It would nice to say you don’t agree with his views but you can enjoy his works without that leaking in but…. well, I’m afraid that would be misunderstanding his books entirely.

Consider, for a second, that Lovecraft’s works were horror stories about extradimensional alien monsters having mutant children with humans, they were about invasions from distant monsters, they were about the purity of quaint European towns being tainted. Consider how this may have all been inflicted by the fact that he just simply despised anybody who wasn’t white. Consider how is opinions on “mixing the races” might fight into this; consider why being unable to maintain the “purity” of white Europe was the scariest thing of all to him.

This extends to Rowling too.

I would love to say we can just acknowledge that she is an awful, racist, antisemitic, transphobic person and then say “but at least her books are good,” because, well, they are, aren’t they? I would say so, for sure. But to suggest that one can separate her from them is…. ridiculous.

Consider why an antisemitic woman wrote about a species of goblins who live among us, but who for the most part keep to themselvesand are maybe a little bit oppressed by the institution, but also hold all the cards, all the money, run the banks.

Consider why a racist woman would write about a species of slaves who loved being enslaved, who enjoyed working for no pay, and cleaning up after humans, with the only small caveat of that they didn’t want to be beaten. Imagine that only the most radical of their species wanted to be free, and he still spent the rest of his life working for no pay and helping out a little white boy and his friends wherever he could. Consider why the only person in the story who thought they should be free, that they should have rights, was treated as an overzealous joke, who was acting against the wishes of those slaves who really LOVE being enslaved. Consider that Rowling went on to say that she kind of considers that girl to be black, now.

Consider why JK Rowling, an open and proud transphobe, wrote Rita Skeeter as having a large square jaw, thick “manly” hands, and dressing incredibly gaudily with the most obvious fake nails and fake teeth and fake hair and fake everything. Consider why a woman who tweets about how trans women are “foxes pretending to be hens to get in the hen house” might write this Rita Skeeter to then illegally transform her body in order to spy on children.

Harry Potter is full of Rowling’s bigotry, start to finish. Not even tangentially, like, “oh the goblins are bad, Rita Skeeter is bad, the house elves are bad, but most of it’s good!” because the deeper you dig and the longer you think the more you realise the entire story is based on her prejudices.

Harry Potter pretends to be an aracial story about found family, but if that were true, why are Harry’s distant ancestors important to who he is today even in the seventh book? Why does Harry have to live with his cousin and aunt and uncle? Because magic inherently prefers blood ties. Whilst Rowling was writing a story that seemed to say, “your heritage is not that important and doesn’t make you better than others” she was still writing a story about a boy who got all of his money through his bloodline, who was protected by living with his bloodline, no matter how evil, who was uniquely able to stop Voldemort because his bloodline passed down the invisibility cloak for generations and generations. Any step Harry takes he is compared to his perfect parents who were exactly like him — he looks just like his father, but he has his mother’s eyes, you know! — consider WHY a woman who is racist might’ve written a story like this. A story that on its surface, condemns a blood caste, but still in every step it takes, validates the idea that blood is thicker than water, and your geneological origin is what makes you special.

You can enjoy Harry Pottwr, of course you can. There are fantastic parts. I love a small group of teenagers deciding to become anarchies rebels and train to fight against fascism in secret. I love the murder mystery plots, I love how the series tells kids that it’s a good thing to be brave, and a good thing to fight injustice, and a good thing to challenge the government. But I cannot separate it from its author because it is such a product of its author. All of the structures of the world, the way things work in the universe, and drenched in Rowling’s beliefs, her bigotries. Of course they are: she made them.

Again. This doesn’t mean you cannot enjoy it. But I think we are past the day where we can pretend that disavowing a bigoted author is enough, and that that somehow separates the text from its bigotry. I think we are past the day where we can pretend that Harry Potter isn’t a deeply, inherently bigoted piece of media. Even the bits we love. I think we are beyond the day where we can truthfully pretend to separate it from her, because she is present through all of it. We MUST recognise its flaws. We MUST admit that she is in every part of it.

[lovelivision]

ROSE PETALS AND LINGERIE.ᐟ

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𐔌.pairing — kamo choso / reader

‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 3.1k

❥ summary... it's valentine's day which means you're going to dress up and surprise your boyfriend and what you have planned for him is a real treat !!

warnings.ᐟ ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, reader in lingerie, praise kink, edging (choso), (slight) titty worship, unprotected sex (use protection irl !!), p in v penetration, pussy drunk choso, creampie, general smut and filth, reader is a tease, afab!reader, no pronouns used

When Choso gets home he’s met with a trail of rose petals leading to your shared bedroom, it confuses him as much as it intrigues him. Following the trail to the room and opening the door, he freezes in his spot, you’re there on the bed, surrounded by rose petals in the cutest lingerie he couldn’t even dare to dream of.

Wrapped in frills and lace and straps, garter belt sitting perfectly against your waist and thighs. Bra pushing your tits up so pretty it makes his mouth water. Kicking your socked legs out from under yourself, you scooch to the end of the bed and look up at him. Lashes fluttering when you say, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cho.”

“You did all this for me?” He blinks back, blush lightly dusting his cheeks.

“Of course I did,” smile sweet, “Now, undress and get on the bed.”

His gaze is already dopey and in love when he follows your instructions wordlessly, stripping down in front of you. Already he’s hard and it makes you feel giddy that just the sight of you was enough to turn him on.

You hum thoughtfully, standing to your full height and walking to him, “You like the lingerie?”

Choso’s quick to put his hands on you, tugging you to him by your hips, his cock trapped between your bodies. “Yeah… I like the lingerie.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lean up and kiss him softly. A gentle kiss to welcome him home that he quickly turns dirty, impatient and turned on as he licks into your mouth. Moans tumble from him to you as his tongue meets yours. His hips rut forward into you, seeking relief that isn’t given this way.

Pulling back, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before reminding, “Cho… get on the bed, please.”

He nearly has to fight a whine to pull away from you, not wanting to take his hands off you for even a single moment but relenting because you told him so nicely to. You watch the way he lays down on the bed and enjoy the view, his cock twitching when you crawl over to him. Straddling him and sitting your clothed core over his aching erection. Choso’s hands shoot to your hips instinctually, hands groping at your flesh as you do nothing but just sit on him.

“Please move,” he asks you, feeling dizzy from how warm you feel through your panties.

“In a moment,” you trace your finger from his chest down his abs before tapping at the leaky tip of his cock just to make him squirm, “I’m admiring the view right now.”

He cocks his head at you, “You’re planning on being cruel?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you roll your hips down into him, soaked core moving along his dick.

The action has him grabbing at you tighter, head relaxing into the pillow below at the pleasure. He’s so pretty when he’s this turned on, his own hips rutting up into you, cock twitchy and leaking thick globs of precum onto his abdomen. The glide of your pussy over him feels better than you expected it to, considering you’re still in your panties.

The poor sheer material soggy from how wet you are, sticking to you obscenely and molding to your cunt. Pussy split open on Choso’s dick as you work him up and down, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning. Breath shuddering as desire thrums through your veins, he looks a little lost under you and it makes your heart swell.

His eyes are glossy and dazed as he looks up at you, head spinning with pleasure. He wants to plant his feet on the bed and grind up into you more but this was your present to him so he’ll just do what you want for now, even if it’s killing him to hold back this much.

“You look so– hah– pretty, Cho,” you praise, voice cooing at him.

He feels your compliment run through him, stomach pulling as his hips jump up. “You’re– hnn– prettier,” he mumbles out earnestly.

Already he’s getting close, you can tell with how his eyes fight to stay open and his cock throbs under you. Still repeating the motions up and down his dick until you feel like he’s right on the edge of cumming and when he’s right there… you stop. Your movements ceasing altogether, a part of you delighting greatly in the pathetic noise he lets out.

“Why? Why did you fff– stop?”

“I just wanted to check on you,” you fake sincerity.

He gives you a glare that you feel would have more meaning behind it if he weren’t naked underneath you, “I’m fine, keep moving.”

Smile saccharine when you say, “Whatever you want.”

Before you resume your movements, you reach down and pull your panties to the side. Slick and bare cunt leaking directly onto him, the amount of self-control he has to exercise right now would kill some he thinks. Your grin is sinful and yet he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful than you.

Rolling your hips again like this has your pace stuttering, the feel of him against you better than you thought. Your brows pull upwards as you fight to keep all the whimpered sounds inside, you don’t want him to know this is ruining you just as much as it is him.

It doesn’t really matter though; he knows you too well and can tell you’re losing yourself in this like he is. If anything, he’s indulging you, he’s indulging you because you went to the effort of dressing up and waiting for him; so how could he possibly deprive you of the fun you’re having.

He lets his hands wander more this time, pulling at the fat of your thighs, tickling up your sides and smiling lazily at how you shiver with it. Finally, he gropes at your tits, playing with them while your hips stumble over his cock.

“Cho– you’re– hnn– distracting me,” you pout at him.

His fingers flick at your nipples through your bra, “Just ignore me, baby.”

Ignore him? How could you possibly ignore him when he’s pulling the cups of your bra down, your tits spilling out as he continues to paw at you. It’s hard to keep your focus when he’s making you feel this good, you’re meant to be tormenting him a little bit, not the other way round.

The head of his cock catches on your hole and you want so badly to sink down on him but you can’t yet, you have a plan for how this was all going to play out. Choso groans from underneath you, getting close again so soon after his last almost orgasm. A little puddle of precum sitting against his abs where his cock has been leaking obscenely. You wonder how many times you can edge him before he stops being so polite.

Despite your own need, you stop moving again much to Choso’s dismay. His brows pinching and his pelvis rutting up at you. Dropping his hands from your tits to grab at the blankets below, grounding himself as his body struggles through another denied orgasm. Depriving him is also depriving you and you’re beginning to really feel it now, he looks so good all blushed and glazed over eyes.

He grits out at you, “Why– why’d you stop– nnh– this time?”

If it were physically possible you think you’d have hearts in your eyes, “To tell you, I love you.”

He stifles down a moan at your declaration, “Stop torturing me,” he pouts.

“I love you too much to torture you, Cho,” your tone gracious, tilting your head at him when you add, “Don’t you love me?”

“Of course, I– hah!–”

His own declaration cut off when you readjust to start sinking down on his cock, stretch achy and indecent as you struggle to take him. Choso’s head is thrown back as he chokes on a moan, hands back on your hips just so he’s touching you. It’s sending you a little insane, you fall forwards slightly and rest your palms over his chest, holding yourself up.

Choso feels like he’s died and gone to heaven, finally having your snug cunt wrapped around him enough to make him cum. When you realise this though, you quickly pull off him and he can only whine at the loss of you.

“No, no, nonono,” he bites out, repeating himself woefully.

“Sorry,” you stroke a strand of his hair off his forehead, you genuinely do feel a little bad.

“If you’re so sorry why did you stop, again?”

“You were gonna cum, Cho.”

“So what?” He growls, “Ride me anyways.”

You taunt him lightly, “You’re so needy tonight.”

“I come home to you in lingerie and get edged three times, of course I’m needy.” He intakes a deep breath to calm down, “I’m getting impatient.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, you imagine he can’t possibly last much longer like this. His patience has got to be hanging on by a thread and you want it to snap, “If I take you again you’re not gonna cum immediately, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums his affirmative, eyes already back on your slick cunt, waiting for you to fuck yourself open on him again.

The urge to tease him further and tell him to use his words properly strikes you but you’re also a little impatient now. So instead, you’ll just give him what you both want and sit on him again, the stretch less achy this time but still a bit of a struggle. This is easier when he’s the one working you open, being on top straight away makes this difficult because what you really want to do is force yourself to the base of him.

The languid way your pussy swallows him is something he can’t take his eyes off, not daring to look away for even a second. Still in your cute lingerie as you take his dick, the sight making his cock jerk and throb. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it if you edge him again, so pitifully sensitive for you.

“It– hnn– occurs to me that– hah– you never said you loved me back,” you sulk at him.

His head lolls back to look up at you, his eyes glassy and fucked and it makes your insides twist because he already looks pussy drunk. Just as he’s about to open his mouth to reply to you, you drop yourself onto him the rest of the way, taking him to the hilt. The sudden fullness taking your breath from you, choking on your need for air as your lungs seize.

Choso’s no better, his eyes rolling as his hands grip and hold you tight to him, his cock throbbing inside you. Stumbling out, “I love– hnn– I love you so much– oh fuck!– I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“You’re– mmph– so cute,” you laugh airily.

He’s desperately fighting the urge to cum, he doesn’t want you pulling off him again and he also doesn’t want to cum before you really start moving. Though he’s urgently giving little ruts up into you, his hands on you tugging you down into him until you’re grinding on him. Your surprised moans like music to his ears, he should stop and let you ride him but he can’t help himself, it feels too good.

“Calm down,” you call to him but he doesn’t respond, too lost in pleasure, “Cho!” Your hand rests against his cheek to get his attention, “Calm down.”

“I can’t– hnn– I can’t,” he almost whimpers, “I need it.”

Oh god, his distressed need is killing you, making you feel all fuzzy and gooey. Your cunt flutters around him and a loud moan leaves him, his eyes rolling in his head. If he keeps going like this he’ll cum before you even get the chance to ride him.

“You’ve– hah– gotta stop, baby.” You try to still your hips but he’s too strong, “You’ll cum without me,” you pout at him.

That stops him immediately, his hands letting go of your hips and fisting the blankets instead. His breathing frantic as tears spring to the corners of his eyes, cock pulsing wildly inside you, apparently much closer than you had thought. You sit so still on him, not wanting to move and torture him.

“You’re killing me,” he accuses.

“That was not my fault.”

“Yes it was,” he nods quickly. “You’re so warm and tight around me and I’m so hard it almost hurts, it’s your fault,” he babbles out.

He’s so cute when he’s this drunk on you, “I’m not moving until you calm down.”

His eyes wander to where he’s sat deep inside you, your cunt bulging around him, “I don’t think I can calm down.”

“You’re gonna have to try,” you tell him.

He tries for a while, to calm himself, focusing on his breathing but all he can feel is you. He’s consumed by you completely; you’re invading all his senses and he can’t calm himself because of it. So sensitive and riled up that he thinks he might cum as soon as you lift your hips, he can’t handle this, he’s being driven to the brink of insanity.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not moving, Cho.”

He knows you won’t, you’re nothing if not a stubborn tease. So he takes it upon himself to move instead, patience officially a whisper of what was when he tugs you down to him and rolls without slipping from your snug pussy.

“Cho!– ah!–”

However you were about to chastise him is lost on your tongue because he doesn’t even wait a moment before withdrawing his hips just to shove them back into yours. The heavy drag of his cock makes your whole body shudder, skin tingly with pleasure at how he’s driving his cock in and out of you. Slick drooling from your cunt obscenely with how horny you are, he may have gotten the worst of the edging but you were also denying yourself.

He's in awe of just how soaked you are, “Th– this fucking wet and you– hah!– still wouldn’t move?”

“I didn’t–”

“–You just wanted to torment me,” he bites back and he’s mostly right.

You like tormenting him until he snaps like this, you love the look in his eyes as he desperately fucks into you. It makes your head fuzzy how badly he seems to need this, feeling so desired as he whines. He presses himself to you more, head tucking into your neck where he kisses and nips at your skin.

Trailing his kisses down your chest and to your tits, folding you lewdly just so he can suck on your nipple. Slowly you’re melting into him, cunt pulsing around him as he works you up easily. Always able to fuck you perfectly without even trying, dick brushing up against your walls in a way that makes your eyes cross.

Your nails scratch at his back, “Cho, it’s– hnn– too much.”

“No, you’re doing so good, you’re– mmph– fine,” he looks at you through his lashes, eyes dopey and so drunk.

Pulling himself up, he rest on his knees, his hands on your hips and angling them up to him. Your lower half not even on the bed anymore as he hunches slightly and fucks into you with reckless abandon. His pelvis smacking into your clit on each thrust sends electricity down your spine, mouth dropping open in euphoria.

He watches the way you suck him back in, his dick coated in your slick. The wet and sloppy sounds of him fucking you resounding throughout the room, liable to get you noise complaints later. Not that he really gives a fuck right now, not when he’s this close to cumming. Cock twitching profusely inside you and as greedy as he feels right now he really doesn’t want to cum before you.

Moving his thumb to your clit, he draws messy circles into it, uncalculated in his movements but enough to make you shudder and whine. Your legs shake beside him, brows pulled together, nails clawing at his forearms. You feel so restless as he fucks into you, the pleasure so good that you want to run away from it but there’s nowhere to go, not with how he’s holding you.

Back arching meanly as you squirm and writhe underneath him, he likes this, he likes watching you struggle against how good it feels. He likes knowing he’s making you feel good, his chest full of all sorts of affection for you.

“You look beautiful,” he mutters out all lovesick.

The sudden compliment shocks you, gasped moan pulling from your chest. “Hnn– Don’t–”

“So pretty– hah– all dressed up– mmh– waiting for me,” he clenches his teeth to fight off a desperate moan, “So kind to me, treating me– hnn– so nice on Valentine’s Day.”

“Cho–” you whine his name pathetically.

He only hums at you, focused on pushing you over the edge, thrusts still relentless in his pursuit. Thumb speeding up over your clit, you’re so close you can taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. Your toes curl as your stomach does flips, Choso’s eyes brighten when he notices just how close you are.

“You’re close, I know you are,” a large and lazy smile on his face. “Please cum– hah– I need you to cum, need to feel it. Want you to cum so badly, please.”

His begging is what does you in, the way his voice cracks just slightly with his frantic need, it makes you cum. Whole body shaking and jolting as you orgasm, cunt tight as you clench down on him. Mind so numb from how it rocks through you, unintelligible moans of his name spilling from your lips.

“Oh fuck–” he finishes as soon as he feels the way you gush around him, spilling his seed deep inside you.

His thrusts don’t stop even as he’s cum, fucking into you over and over, riding out both your highs to the point that he’s nearly overstimulating himself but it feels too good to stop. Dropping your hips down to the bed gently and collapsing into you, head tucked into your shoulder and even then his hips are still jerking into you.

Small huffed whines leaving him as he keeps moving, so blissed and drunk on your pussy that he can’t find it in himself to stop. His cum spilling from you and down onto the bed below, obscene puddle forming under you both. It’s not until you’re wrapping your legs around his waist and holding him flush to your pelvis that he finally stills.

Pressing your lips to his ear, you whisper, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“The day’s not done yet,” he bites at your shoulder.

𝒂.𝒏. these will all only be around 3k (if i can contain myself hehe) HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY LOVELIES !!! ❣️

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, she’d let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, , with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn”t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[spiderb00]

- ROMCOM

Megan Skiendiel x actress!reader 

“Your girlfriend's birthday will always be special” 

Genre – Fluff  Warnings –  none 

Now playing – Feels Like, by Gacie Abrams 

Your schedule has never been tighter, all your commitments seem to have got in the way. The recordings for the new season of Percy Jackson were in full swing, the interviews for events, the awards where your films were nominated, it was all so crazy. You never imagined that you would have a life as a Hollywood star, at least not when you were only nineteen, but it happened. You'll be eternally grateful for everything you've achieved and still achieve, but you couldn't deny how much you just wanted to relax at times.  

Being recognized for your work was incredible, you could never deny that, but you knew you certainly weren't cut out for Hollywood. Sometimes you missed your simple life as a teenager, sometimes you wondered what it would be like if you had continued working in your father's small bookstore, but these thoughts soon faded when you remembered Megan.   

Megan was one of the biggest reasons for you to face the difficult days, knowing that at the end of the day you could see her beautiful face, even if it was only by video call. Your girlfriend's energy always gave you the strength to keep fighting, you were just two young souls trying to unravel the world together, and that made you very happy.  

You begged on your knees for Megan's managers to give you a few days with her, fortunately, they agreed after an assurance that you would be back on time. So you set everything up, called Megan's friends and got everything in place.   

The island was beautiful, the resort was better than any hotel Megan had ever stayed in, and being with you made everything better. Hand in hand, you walked along the beach, enjoying the sand, the sun and the waves. You had fun with your friends, making fools of yourselves and laughing at the smallest things, just being teenagers for a few days.   

Megan didn't think things could get any better, but you always exceeded her expectations.   

It was early and you had a hard time getting Megan out of bed, the sun and all the previous day's activities making her more tired than usual. But when you finally managed to get her out of bed, you dragged her out of the room you two shared, keeping quiet so as not to wake any of your friends, who were sleeping in the rooms next door.   

Walking quickly down to the beach, Megan and you were giggling playfully, Megan's chest felt like it was about to explode, the feeling of being in a romantic comedy movie was always present in her chest when she was with you.   

“Come on, Meg. We'll miss the whole thing if you don't hurry.” You said, pulling the girl through the hallways of the hotel.  

“I'm going as fast as I can, baby.” Megan said, the giggle she was holding back tickling her throat.   

When you finally made it out of the hotel, you hurried even faster, pulling Megan closer to the pool. The girl wasn't even paying that much attention to your haste anymore, because now she had understood everything. Megan was looking up, impressed by the shades of purple and orange that were appearing in the sky. The sunrise was happening, the sensation Megan felt could not be compared to anything else.  

Both of your steps became slower, and now Megan realized that you were on the beach, which was only a few meters from the resort. The sound of the crashing waves, the color of the sky, the sensation of warmth that was building up all over her body, the sand on her feet and the way your eyes shone in the specific light, made Megan's heart beat faster.   

Still holding your hand, the Chinese girl felt like crying, but not from sadness, it was simply that feeling of love, soft and simple. That feeling of comfort and all those thoughts of how it could never end.   

“Don't you think it was worth waking up early?” You asked, bringing Megan's hand to your mouth and kissing it.   

Megan watched in amazement, every detail of the moment being stored deep in her heart. “Everything is worth it with you.”   

Looking at Megan, you saw the way your girlfriend was looking at you. Her big eyes made you melt, and the way her hand fit into yours made your chest swell.   

“I wanted some time alone with you, so I thought about it.” You said embarrassedly. Your cheeks were burning red, all because of the way Megan was looking at you.  

Taking your face in her hands, Megan caressed your cheek, smiling at you before leaning in and kissing your lips. Your hands went to her waist with muscle memory, and your shoulders relaxed as soon as Megan sighed into the kiss.   

“I love you.” The smile on her face made your smile appear.   

You loved Megan, every detail of her made you feel like the luckiest person in the world, and all you wanted was to spend the rest of your life admiring her up close.   

“I love you more.”   

Hugging you, Megan laid her head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she admired the different colors of the sky.   

hi everyone, I hope you're all well.

this is really short because I'm running out of time, but I've wanted to make a fic with megan for so long that I had to make this one.

anyway, drink some water, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Love Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: When you and Spencer have no one to spend Valentine's Day with, the idea of watching movies together can save, at least, the night.

Words: 4,4k.

Warnings & Tags: this works as a standalone one-shot but also is a prequel to a series. two idiots obviously in love. fluff. painter!reader who was a cat. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Happy Valentine's Day (belated) to all💝✨ I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into the past amidst the chaos of the line that follows my series.

Valentine’s Day had a way of making the world feel like a glittery, rose-scented battlefield for the lonely. Everywhere you turned, there were smiling couples wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Heart-shaped balloons swayed lazily in the wind outside storefronts, red and pink ribbons draped over every available surface like a relentless invasion of affection. Cafés played catchy love songs on repeat, each chorus drilling into your skull, a painful reminder that the day belonged to those who had someone to share it with.

The worst part? The flowers. Gorgeous arrangements of deep red roses, soft pink peonies, and delicate white lilies, displayed in neat little buckets with tiny price tags that felt like a cruel joke. You could have them, sure, if you were willing to stand in an endless supermarket line, clutching your own bouquet like a pathetic consolation prize, enduring the cashier’s judging glance as they scanned the barcode. The same went for the chocolates. Expensive, gold-wrapped, promising indulgence and romance, except, in your case, the only romance involved was between you and your impulse to stress-eat.

But despite the bitterness that curled inside your chest, you didn’t hate love. If anything, you craved it, even if you pretended not to. Romance movie marathons were a blessing, an escape into a world where grand gestures and heartfelt confessions always led to a happy ending. You’d curl up under a blanket, eyes glued to the screen, soaking in every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you,” letting it fill your chest with warmth. And yet, no matter how deeply you immersed yourself, the magic always faded when the screen cut to black. The credits would roll, white letters against a dark void, and you’d be left staring at your own reflection in the blank screen, heart aching with a longing that never quite disappeared: the relentless, unshakable desire to live the love you only ever watched from afar.

All the February fourteens you remember were like this: lonely, with chocolate and romance movies.

Wait. This time was different.

This time, however, you were no longer alone, but accompanied by Spencer Reid. The room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the soft glow of a few scattered candles and the flickering light of the television, which cast shadows on the walls of your apartment. He was sitting next to you, leaning against the edge of the couch with his usual distracted air, his long limbs stretched out on the cushions, but his mind was clearly miles away from yours. He was not fully present, his attention wavering between the screen and the incredibly large world inside his own head. His leg brushed against yours with a nonchalance that only made it more noticeable; the slight warmth of his touch made you feel it every time it happened. You still tried not to notice, to pretend it was nothing, but there was something magnetic about the way he moved, as if the world around you tilted a little every time he was near.

Your hand brushed over his from time to time as you took chocolates from the heart-shaped box you shared and had gotten on sale at the supermarket. You could feel the coolness of his skin under your fingers, his touch lingering too long, as if he, too, was aware of the connection in the simplest of gestures. But Spencer, ever observant and living in his own head, didn't seem to care. He barely glanced at you, too absorbed in the ridiculousness of the movie to register the subtle moments between the two of you. With his mind constantly buzzing, analyzing even the most mundane things, it was almost as if his body knew more than his brain, his closeness a silent declaration that he was comfortable with you in a way he didn't seem to be with anyone else.

The movie on the screen was the kind of clichéd romance that made you cringe on a regular day. The kind where the couple was destined for each other from the moment they met, their chemistry so palpable it felt as though the universe itself was conspiring to bring them together. The dialogue was saccharine, the plot as predictable as a heartbeat, but you couldn’t help it; you loved every moment. The grand, sweeping gestures. The whispered confessions. The inevitable kiss in the rain. You had chosen it precisely because you knew how much Spencer would question everything from the nonsense in the dialogue to the false number of minutes the characters claimed they could travel from one part of the world to another.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful as he absently reached for another piece of chocolate, “it’s statistically improbable that two people, just by chance, would fall in love in such a perfect, linear way.” He paused, glancing at you briefly with a look that was almost apologetic for ruining the mood. “I mean, the chances of all those factors aligning—timing, location, emotional availability—it’s…it’s not as simple as it seems.”

You tilted your head slightly, listening intently as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He had always been the one to find patterns, to dissect everything until there was no mystery left. But you weren’t in the mood for logic right now. Not tonight.

Before you knew it, the question slipped out, unexpectedly blunt in the stillness of the room.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The words lingered between you, weighty in a way that surprised even you. You hadn’t meant to ask it like that—so direct, so raw—but now that it was out, you couldn’t take it back. It felt as though the question held something more than just curiosity. It felt like a delicate invitation into a part of Spencer you weren’t sure you had a right to see.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered back to the TV screen, his eyes unfocused as though the question had thrown him off guard. There was a pause, a shift in the air, a subtle change in the way he sat. His posture stiffened just enough that you wondered if you’d crossed some invisible line, if you’d pushed him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go.

Finally, he shifted, voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I thought I was closer…But saying it out loud makes it sound kind of stupid, considering I never even got to kiss her.”

The words hung between you, fragile and unguarded, their presence stretching the silence like a thin thread threatening to snap. You could feel the weight of his hesitation, the quiet vulnerability in the way he avoided your gaze, fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to fidget. It was as if he was standing at the edge of something, testing the waters before taking a plunge, unsure if he could share a truth that had settled deep inside him. Even after two years, two months, and ten seconds since the first words you exchanged in the hallway, even after all the late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the comfortable silences, and all the times the two of you acted as if your apartments were just one. If he bothered to calculate, he had spent more time with you than he had spent sleeping soundly in years. And yet, despite all of it—the familiarity, the trust, the way he let you curl up on his couch as if it were your own—he still hesitated, like he was afraid that if he told the whole story of his tragedy, there'd be no going back.

“I think you can love someone without kissing them.” The honest tone of your voice and the way you didn't laugh at him or look at him with pity surprised him.

Spencer glanced at you then, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even if you’ve never seen them?”

“Oh,” you whispered, your mind trying to catch up. You hadn’t expected that. You hadn’t expected him to go there. “Never? Never?”

He chuckled lightly, but it wasn’t the usual, lighthearted sound. It was dry, tinged with something that made you want to reach out and pull him closer. “Yeah. That’s usually the reaction I get.” His tone was self-deprecating, a little uncomfortable.

You shook your head quickly, trying to right the atmosphere, to assure him that you weren’t dismissing his feelings. “It’s not that I think it’s foolish,” you said, the words tumbling out before you even fully processed them. “I just think you’re the kind of person who needs constant reassurance. Like a hug, a kiss, or even just a touch or a smile to remind you everything’s okay. That’s how you like to be loved. So it’s hard to imagine you loving someone without all of that.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, until you could almost feel the weight of his gaze on you. You turned your head, just enough to catch his eyes, and found him still looking undisturbed, as if frozen in place. But there was something in his eyes, something soft, almost vulnerable: curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper, a fleeting glimpse of a side he wasn’t used to showing. It didn’t last long, though. It couldn’t. Because if there was one thing he wasn’t accustomed to, it was being the subject of such focused attention. He had spent his life observing, and studying the little details of those around him, recognizing habits, memorizing routines, and quietly cataloging every nuance. It was his skill, his way of moving through the world. He was always the watcher, the one who gathered knowledge and surprised others with what he knew. But now, as your eyes met his, it was as though the roles had reversed, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to handle being the one under the microscope.

Then, as if he wants to flip the conversation entirely, his tone turns curious. “And you? Have you ever been in love?”

The question catches you off guard, the sudden shift in the air surprising you more than you’d care to admit.

“No,” you say, your answer quick, almost instinctive.

His eyebrows lift, and the surprise is clear in his expression, a small wrinkle forming between his brows as if he’s trying to process your words.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” you say, pointing at him, half-amused, half-defensive. “Don’t judge.”

“I’m not judging,” he insists, rubbing the back of his neck, the familiar nervous gesture betraying his discomfort. “I just…didn’t expect that answer.”

You sigh, leaning back into the couch, trying to find a way to make the silence feel less loaded. “Yeah, well. Neither did I. I used to think that by this age, I’d have it all figured out. Love, relationships, the whole thing.” You pause, your gaze drifting to the flickering TV screen before adding dryly, “But love is a tricky subject. Kind of like my finances.”

Spencer’s eyes flicker with something like amusement, but it quickly turns into that familiar glint of curiosity, the one that always makes you feel like you’re on the receiving end of an interrogation. You brace yourself, almost expecting him to start spewing facts about some obscure subject. And he doesn’t disappoint.

“Well,” he says, his voice taking on a tone that’s both analytical and oddly comforting, “there are studies that show people are more likely to find love later in life than they think.” He pauses for a moment, clearly enjoying this little fact-dropping session. “In fact, statistically speaking, people in their 30s and 40s have a higher success rate in finding lasting relationships than those in their 20s. It’s because they’ve had more time to understand themselves, their needs, and what they want out of a partner. It’s not about rushing into something, it’s about finding someone who fits, someone who…gets you.”

You blink, the ease with which Spencer switches into research mode never failing to surprise you. You knew he could recite statistics and facts with ease, but hearing him speak about love in such an objective, factual manner felt…oddly reassuring. The gentle, even tone of his voice made the whole thing seem less daunting, less like a puzzle that needed to be solved, and more like something you could take time with.

“No one gets me except my cat and you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. It’s a light joke, but there’s truth in it, at least partly. “I adopted my cat, and you live next door. You don’t really have a choice; you have to talk to me.”

“No,” he says, almost like he’s contemplating the weight of his own words. “It’s not like that.”

You blink, feeling an odd, almost electric shift in the air between you. Something in his tone is different, softer, more vulnerable. The casual banter, the easy comfort you’d grown accustomed to, suddenly feels far away, as if the room had expanded and narrowed all at once. You weren’t sure what had changed, but you felt it, felt him, in a way you hadn’t before.

Your heart picks up a rhythm that’s a little too fast, but you don’t look away, not this time. You study him, trying to decipher the change, the subtle change in the atmosphere. Was it just you, or was he feeling it too?

“It’s not just because I live next door,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper but clear enough that you can hear the rawness in it. He’s looking at you now, eyes soft, his gaze not shy but steady, like he’s inviting you into a space only the two of you occupy. “I think it’s because you make it easy. To be around you. To talk to you. I don’t have to try so hard with you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and unspoken, filling the space in ways that neither of you expected. You open your mouth to respond, to deflect with another joke or lighthearted comment, but something in you pauses. The atmosphere has shifted, and the words feel too thin, too trivial to layer over what’s hanging between you.

There’s a small silence that follows, the kind that feels comfortable in a way you can’t quite explain, but also a little unsettling, like you’ve accidentally wandered into a territory neither of you are sure how to navigate. Spencer doesn’t break eye contact. His presence feels different, more present now, as if he’s allowing himself to be seen in a way he never has before. It’s raw, but not fragile. Honest, but not vulnerable in the way you’d expect.

You chuckle, trying to break the tension, but it comes out as a soft snort. “Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted to vice president of the ‘people who tolerate me’ club.”

He hums thoughtfully, the quiet sound of it warm and easy. “I don’t think it’s about tolerating you. I think it’s about understanding you.”

His words, simple as they are, land with more weight than you expected. They’re not teasing. Not a casual remark. He’s being serious, and that sincerity makes something shift in you, just slightly, in a way that catches you off guard.

You sink back into the couch, your mind slowing down to catch up with the unexpected shift in your thoughts. You hadn’t realized how much you were holding back, how much you’d been avoiding, until you said it aloud. “Understanding is a rare thing,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him, but you know he hears you.

“It is,” he agrees softly, almost like he’s mulling over your words, letting them settle in the space between you. “That’s why, when you find it, you hold onto it.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still looking at the screen, but his gaze is distant, lost in thought, like his mind is somewhere else entirely. The flicker of the TV casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the gentle furrow in his brow, and for the first time, you realize how much you’ve been paying attention to him without meaning to.

The space between you feels comfortable in a way that’s new, more intimate than you thought it could be. The quiet stretches, wrapping itself around you both like a blanket, and you realize how much you’re here, in this moment, with him. It’s strange—peaceful, even—like time has slowed down and all that matters is this tiny bubble of calm you’re both in.

Without thinking, your body shifts slightly, leaning into him, your head dipping just enough to rest against his shoulder. It’s not something you plan, just instinct, like your body already knows what it needs before your mind catches up. Spencer tenses, a quick intake of breath, but then the tension melts, and he exhales softly, the air between you warmer. His sweater is soft against your cheek, faintly smelling of books and coffee, a quiet comfort that sinks deep into your bones.

He doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he does something so small, so careful, that you almost miss it. He turns his head just enough that his cheek brushes against the top of your hair, as if making sure you’re okay, but without disturbing the delicate space you’ve found. The contact is so light, so gentle, that it almost doesn’t feel real, but it settles in your chest like a secret, a silent promise.

A few minutes passed, maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. The movie played on, the soft glow of the screen casting shifting patterns on the walls, but neither of you were paying attention. The warmth of the room, the steadiness of Spencer’s breathing, the gentle pressure of his shoulder beneath you—it was all lulling you into a hazy, dreamlike state, where time felt like it had slowed just for the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved then, hesitating only briefly before he let it rest—gentle, careful—on the back of your head. His fingers barely grazed your hair, but the touch was grounding, a silent reassurance that you were welcome here, that you weren’t imposing, that this, whatever this was, was okay.

“You okay?” He murmured, his voice so low it barely disturbed the quiet.

You nod slowly, your eyes still closed, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’m just…comfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you feel him watching you, quietly studying the way your breath has slowed, how you’ve settled, how the weight of the day has melted away from you. You’re not sure how you know it, but you do. You can feel him there, his attention soft, and thoughtful.

A small sigh escapes you, a quiet expression of contentment. His thumb brushes over your hair, the touch light but lingering, so tender it feels like something private, something shared only between the two of you. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes something warm unfurl in your chest, the kind of warmth that stays with you.

And just as sleep began to pull you under, in that delicate space between waking and dreaming, you heard it.

So quiet.

So soft.

Like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“You’re not as hard to love as you think.”

If you were fully awake, maybe you would’ve stiffened, maybe you would’ve asked him to repeat it, maybe you would’ve tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. But you weren’t awake.

Spencer hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how long the two of you had been sitting there in complete silence. The soft, almost imperceptible hum of the television played movies he didn’t even register anymore, their sounds blending into the background as though they were no longer a part of the world. His attention was entirely consumed by the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet rhythm of your presence against his, steady and soothing. Your warmth had become a part of him, so natural.

He hadn’t intended to just watch you sleep. But there was something about the peacefulness of it, the way your face softened in sleep, the little sighs escaping you every so often, that made him forget about the passage of time. His gaze lingered on you, not in an intrusive way, but with a quiet kind of reverence, as if he were trying to commit the moment to memory. The soft glow of the TV reflected on your features, casting gentle shadows and highlighting the small details of your face that always seemed to captivate him. Like the way your eyelashes fluttered even in sleep, or how your lips parted just slightly.

The steady beat of his heart, the subtle pulse of his chest, seemed to synchronize with the silence that wrapped around him, blending together like a soft, unspoken lullaby. He let himself be carried by its rhythm, a rare, peaceful kind of quiet he hadn’t realized he’d been longing for until now. How precious it was to just be here, with you, with nothing to investigate, nothing to analyze, nothing to figure out. No puzzles to solve, no complex patterns to unravel. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could just be, and he didn’t want it to end. Never had a night off from work felt more necessary, more perfect, than this one.

His fingers twitched absentmindedly, brushing against the fabric of your sleeve as though needing to reassure himself that you were still here, that you were real. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, or why he was so fixated on you in this moment, but it felt safe. His body was heavy with the weight of it, content and grounded.

Hours passed, unnoticed.

It was only when the sharp sound of his cellphone pierced the stillness that he snapped out of his trance, blinking in surprise. The ringtone, abrupt and insistent, felt jarring against the soft cocoon of silence that had enveloped everything.

He glanced at his phone, his mind still hazy, still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. His eyes immediately flickered to you, still nestled comfortably against him, breathing steady and slow, unaware of the world outside.

The phone kept ringing, louder now, demanding attention.

With one hand, he pressed the phone to his ear, the other reaching out to adjust your position ever so gently. He wanted to make sure you were still comfortable, still blissfully lost in sleep, without waking you.

“Reid! Are you hurt?” Penelope’s voice burst through the speaker in his ear, sharp with concern.

“Uh…no?” He murmured, his voice thick with sleep, barely audible. It was more of a question than an answer, the words slow and unsteady, betraying how distracted he was.

“No?” she repeated, her tone morphing into something a little more teasing. She huffed loudly, her curiosity piqued. “Then why aren’t you here right now?”

“Where exactly?” Spencer asked, his voice a little groggy, still half lost in the fog of sleep.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh.”

He frowned, lifting his head slightly to look down at you. His thoughts were tangled, the confusion thick in his chest. “Oh?” he repeated.

“Oh.”

His brow furrowed further. “Why so many ‘oh’s?”

“You’re thirty minutes late,” she said, the realization in her tone quickly morphing into something suspiciously close to delight. “You sound confused but…happy. You, Dr. Spencer Reid, who is never late for anything, are sitting somewhere, all content and cozy, completely forgetting the concept of time on the day after Valentine’s Day.” Another pause, and then, with a sudden squeal of excitement, she practically shouted, “You celebrated Valentine’s Day!”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, the words surprising him in a way he wasn’t quite ready for. “Not like that,” he said quickly, almost too quickly, his voice rushed, as if trying to distance himself from the thought. But even as he said it, there was something about the way his voice faltered, something that made him unsure. He couldn’t help it, his eyes drifted back to you.

“Oh, you totally did!” She gasped. “You adorable, lovestruck genius, you did it! You let someone in! This is huge!”

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall then, his heart stalling for a moment as his gaze lingered on the time. Thirty minutes late. The realization hit him like a wave, and he felt his pulse quicken. This has never happened to him before.

“My alarm didn’t sound,” he muttered, almost to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t figure out how he had missed it.

Garcia scoffed. “Your alarm didn’t sound?”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

“Think of a better excuse for Hotch on your way here,” she said, the teasing evident in her voice. “And save all the details of your lovely night for me. I need to hear about your real-life romance.”

Romance? His chest tightened at the word. No, this wasn’t like that. This was…just friendship.

Spencer exhaled sharply, glancing down at you once more. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you, still sleeping soundly in his arms, your features relaxed. There was a part of him that wanted to wake you, to say something, anything, but he couldn’t bear to disturb this rare moment. He longed to leave you something, maybe breakfast or a note, before he rushed out the door.

He sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Tell Hotch I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said quietly, almost too quietly to be heard.

Penelope’s voice hummed knowingly through the phone. “Okay, lover boy,” she teased.

He hung up before she could say anything else, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

And then, all at once, the realization hit him.

He had spent the whole night watching you sleep. Not even the sunlight creeping through the edges of his poorly closed curtains or the distant ringing of his alarm clock had been able to pull him away from you. From this.

Oh, that’s when he knew.

He was in love. Deeply. Madly. In love.

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: @burningwitchprincess @withloverosse @fairiesofearth @pleasantwitchgarden @ximensitaa @lover-of-books-and-tea @cherryblossomfairyy @cherrygublersworld @i-need-to-be-put-down

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[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Greenness

{Sung Jinwoo/Reader}

《Greenness: The quality or state of being simple and sincere.》

-

A teddy bear cradled in your arms, you take a deep breath. Chocolates and roses in hand as you glance over at the time. Patiently waiting by the door you keep the coffee thermos strapped to your chest. Along with the other items in your grasp. 

Finally the door opens, lo and behold a tired-eyed Sung Jinwoo. Hair messy and posture sluggish, his attire, simple clothing sagged over his body. Hidden underneath the poor young man were dozens of bandages littered on his skin. Scrapes and cuts from former E-Rank raids. 

Praying that your heart won’t beat out of your chest like a saturday morning cartoon, you take a deep breath…

Then immediately release the air as you place your items down, engulfing the male tightly in your arms. The male squeaks in bashful embarrassment, while you pay no mind, caressing his messy locks. Sprinkling kisses all around his forehead as he does nothing but melt into your arms.

“I heard a yell, what's wrong-! Oh…” Jinah stopped in her tracks, an amused yet deadpan expression crossing her features. Mouth twitching in as she watches her older brother be smothered like a kitten. 

“At least have some decency..” She mutters, not upset, but not exactly thrilled that they were blocking her way out the door. At least her brother looked like he was having the time of his life.

-

Treats and gifts placed on the kitchen counter, Jinwoo pours some water in an empty vase, carefully placing the red roses in. Sighing in relief for not being cut from the trimmed thorns.

“I brought some flowers for your mother too!” You call out to him as he places the vase down on the kitchen table. 

“You didn’t have too…” You shoot him a look. 

He sighs. “Thank you.” Jinwoo says sincerely, walking over to your side as your hands rest on his palms. Tracing the few bits of skin that weren’t wrapped in bandages.

Hiding your frown with a shrug, “you know Jinwoo… We could always try looking for a more…Careful job?” You offer, gazing straight at him. Patiently waiting for his reply as his brows furrow and lip downturned. While it was a cute look, you knew it wasn’t a happy expression.  

“We both know it’s not that simple.” “But we can try?” You reiterate. Jinwoo looks away, not wishing to argue. You bite your tongue so you won’t say something you’ll regret.

You knew Jinwoo was stubborn, not because he wanted to be. But HAD too. His world was tuff, of course he doesn’t want to go into dungeons. Jinwoo didn’t want to end up in the hospital every time he got hurt. He wants to provide money for his mother’s treatments and the best schooling for his sister.

Yet that took money, so dungeons and odd jobs were his best bet.

You knew he would grow and become stronger for not only their sakes, but his own.

But… Until that time comes, you can’t help but selfishly deter him from his path. With every small chance you’re able to get. Almost determined to deny his destiny to become the Shadow Monarch or, the strongest Hunter in the world of SL. 

Believing that maybe it was the best option you had. Instead, maybe the two could find a well paying job? He could relax, the bruises and cuts etched into his skin could fade and no longer seeing that hopeless smile whenever a bill came in. That defeated look on his face after each time he woke up from the hospital will disappear.

Each attempt thwarted by the story's pen, you ignore the feelings of disappointment and go along with the day. Washed away by the smile on Jinwoo's face when you held in your arms. Fruitlessly wishing to keep him there longer.

“Well, c’mon Jinwoo! I don’t wanna’ keep your mother waiting! As her future in-law, I have to present myself accordingly!” You say with sincerity, as Jinwoo follows after. Laughing as you roll your eyes at his oblivious self.

-

While your affections for the E-Rank Hunter were clear as glass. He remains blissfully unaware. Chalking up each date to a “hang-out”.

“You wanna’ go to the park together? Oh, sure!”

Believing a romantic picnic date in front of a sunset to be, “just getting dinner with a friend.”

Or gifts?

“Thanks, but you didn’t have too. I’m no longer hospitalized..”

Pity gifts, you MUST have forgotten to give him while he was in the hospital.

Finally asking permission from Jinah to date Jinwoo while IN FRONT OF HIM!

“That’s really sweet that you asked Jinah to have permission to be friends with me…”

Jinah shoots a glance at your exasperated look. Dolled up in your nicest clothes, with gifts for her and him. Even the younger Sung looked done with her brother's guilelessness.

No matter how many times you try to explain, he brushes it off. Not because he wanted to reject you, he just chalks it up to your affectionate nature for him. WHICH WAS FOR HIM! You curse the pen for writing him to not recognize your genuine gestures of infatuation.

Not giving up, you choose to be a little subtle about your attempts to win his heart rather than bluntly telling him. Seeing that it wasn’t working.

-

“Something’s different about Jinwoo…” You mumble, playing off to obliviousness as Jinah gawks at you. 

“You just realized now!?” 

You nod, patting down your apron as you glance at the time of the stove. Waiting to take out the desired item as Jinah listens to your words. “He got a new shirt! It looks really nice on him!” You chirp as the younger Sung groans.

“You two are so DENSE! AUGHHH!” She huffs. “As someone who’s been pining after him for, I dunno… Forever! You’re just clueless as him!” The poor girl whines, pinching her nose in annoyance. 

“A match made in h-” “Jinah! Language!” Jinwoo chastises as he walks into the room, arms crossed with a stern look.

You watch the two siblings bicker as you glance back at the stove. 

Of course I noticed, he’s finally on the right track. 

You smile, ignoring the sound of the timer ringing as you turn to Jinwoo.

“S…Sorry. I think I might’ve been a bit charred.” You laugh, gazing distantly at the screen in front of Jinwoo. Watching it close as Jinwoo laughs with you, “It’s okay, I’m sure it’s still delicious.” 

“Yeah.”

“If not, there’s new restaurant that opened up near by!” Jinah pipes up coyly. Pushing you further to Jinwoo as she throws a cheesy grin at her brother. While she was sick of the pinning the two of exhibited. Jonah at least didn’t want her brother to lose!

“Fine, will get take out.” Jinwoo relents, grabbing his keys once again as you follow after him out the door.

“Thanks!”  

The door closes shut as you cling to his side, the warm night air lingering on your clothes as he starts conversing about his day and vice-versa.

-

Pausing in your steps, your eyes linger on the plush bear situated on the table, a vase of roses and chocolates placed nicely on the table. Bag of food in hand, you glance around the area for any signs of another presence. Finding none other than Jinwoo, you realize that Jinah must of left. 

“Jin-!”

“Jinah went to go get dinner with a friend. I was hoping… Maybe if it’s alright.. It can be just us tonight?”

Tossing the food on the table, you rush over to the couch. Eagerly patting the seat cushion next to you. 

Jinwoo takes slow steps over, regardless of his taller statue. Muscular massive frame, nicely trimmed hair. You grab him once he is finally seated. With the strength of ten S-Rank men, he doesn’t squeak of embarrassment.

Rather, he indulges without any once of shame as sprinkles of kisses shower all over his face.

Silent tears fall from your eyes, letting them fall away into his dark tresses. For a moment, Jinwoo stills, eyes fluttering shut. Not wishing to see your tears, even with his new found confidence. He couldn’t bear to see you weep for him.

Why cry for him? He’s finally found success; he could follow through with his goals! So why cry?

Jinwoo bites his tongue. 

Ceasing your kisses, the male frowns. Opening up his eyes to a cheerful face. Tears wiped away as if he merely imagined it. 

Arms slowly falling back to your sides, Jinwoo grabs hold of them. Tracing your palms, the texture was familiar to him. Grinning softly, the smell of chocolate lingers in the air as the roses by the table start to wilt.

-

Omake: 

(Y/N): "Here’s my proposal, I give you love and affection and you get kisses and we can work out the finer details."

*Jinwoo, sitting on the couch as you hold a wedding ring.* “... Counter proposal.” *Holds out wedding ring too*

(Y/N): “I see your point. But counter-counter proposal-”

-

Notes:

So, I wrote this in mind of a silly romcom kinda thing!

I also wanted to try and explore more Jinwoo before his Re-Awakening arc. I hope I did well enough. I’ve been watching a bit solo leveling so I hope I characterized him well enough? 

In the beginning, Jinwoo has some really bad self-esteem. I mean c’mon! He is belittled for being the weakest hunter! So when hearing genuine praise, I don’t see him as someone who accepts outright. He is downplaying his achievement because he sees himself as weak still. But after his Re-Awakening,

(Y/N) still sees Jinwoo before his awakening because there have been times where yeah, he gets the crap beat out of him for being a bit too cocky. Yet even with his newfound strength he’s still in a story that gives him “problems to solve.” And he knows that! He has to keep leveling up. I tried to write some parallels to the two cause I thought it’d be fun. 

I also just love the trope of idiots in love, theres a lot to work with! Also, I know some readers just wanna give lonely jinwoo affection! I see yall! 

[I honestly hope to write more Male Leads from Manwhas. Cause it’d be fun to branch out!. Happy Valentines Day! Send in your own interpre tations! I’d love to read them! Comments, fan art, hearts, reblogs are appreciated! Thanks for reading! See Ya’ll!]

[snowluvvie]

strawberry shortcake 🍓

Rodrick <33

₊˚⊹ ♡. Rodrick Heffley is certainly not a planner, he never has been. He spends plenty of time agonizing over how exactly he's gonna blow your socks off on the big day, but when he's ready to start planning, he realizes that it's two days away. He scrapes together the couple bucks in his wallet, some change from his dorm room couch (and you're 99% sure he took some money from Greg's piggy bank,) to present you on Valentine's Day with a grand total of: a beanie-baby stuffed animal, a box of candy hearts, a mostly-crushed bouquet of flowers from the gas station, and a hand-burned CD with the title "jams 4 hot gf" scrawled across the front in his inexcusably terrible handwriting. He's basically grinding his toe into the dirt all shy-like when he gives them to you, giving you a classic "I know it's not much, but—" though you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him so hard he makes an oof noise, the wind knocked out of him.

The two of you make an appearance at your favorite date spot—an extremely sketchy, extremely sticky bowling alley where three of the lanes are perpetually closed, and the lights in the attached arcade flicker ominously. Your squeals and his laughter echo off the wood-paneled walls, and for your whole game (him appearing on the scoreboard as RODPRICK and you as THE BABE,) it feels like you're the only two people on the whole planet. Rodrick insists on winning you a stuffed animal from the claw machine, and you put on an oscar-winning performance of being equally as excited every time he tries, and equally as shocked and disappointed every time it slips from the metal grasp. You rub his back consolingly as you walk away once his pockets are officially empty, and he slings an arm over your shoulders as he mutters, "at least you got the beanie baby" with a defeated shake of his head.

You almost let out a little sniffle at the card he gives you (it takes you a couple tries to read it cause good lord, his handwriting really is awful,) which says "ur way too cool and hot and smart for me, but i'm glad u haven't realized that yet. happy valentine's day babe :)" accompanied by the worst drawing of you two as stick figures you've ever seen. He even plays you an extremely sincere but terribly loud love song on the drum set in the communal music room, and the two of you get promptly kicked out halfway through. Ending the day with your face buried in his hoodie, watching some stupid movie, the whole day having cost probably $30 total, you hum against his lips when he kisses you and think about how it was kind of the best day you've ever had. Sure, it made it glaringly obvious that Rodrick Heffley is a total disaster—but c'mon, he's your disaster.

[girl-lostconnection]

Valentine’s Edition: Earl Grey&Creaky Floorboards

Warnings: Price x gn!Reader, plus size Reader, fluff, a lot of repetition, some love for the captain and some captain for you, suggestive themes, smut at the end

John is a hardworking man — the dedication in an army-issued fatigues, the ambition draped in rough fabrics and worked to the bone, the sacrifice on sacrifice.

He barely has time to be present for big holidays — too much work at the base and too much work in the field and a whole lot of trouble if he doesn’t finish up the report that was requested two weeks ago but drowned in the pile on his desk.

But somehow this year is different.

Rookies don’t act up, command doesn’t lose their shit, his whole team requests leave of absence from the base and practically runs to get on the bus as soon as he says “yes”.

A miracle all of them got partners in the same year, but from what John saw it had a positive effect on their morale and overall mood.

So he doesn’t press for details when his lieutenant spends forty minutes scrolling through movie recommendations on his phone.

Or when both his sergeants run in laps brainstorming ideas for this Valentine’s Day.

It’s a rare occurrence for things to go smoothly so when his own leave gets approved John is ready to say a quick prayer.

But he has enough energy only to get home back to you, wash up and crawl into the bed. Which is already a lot.

House is a little cold in February, he will need to turn up the heat in the morning, he will need to do a hundred different things in the morning, but right now he can relax.

John groans quietly when you open the covers for him to get in the comforting warmth, murmurs “you are angel, luv”, voice thick with gratitude and exhaustion.

He wraps himself around you — one palm resting on the soft flesh of your tummy, knee nudged between your plush thighs and nose nuzzled in your hair, his whole body melting into yours. He missed you badly.

He knows you missed him too. It’s way past your bedtime when he comes home and yet, you still waited up to welcome him to bed. You still fought sleep to finally doze off when he gets into bed.

Probably were out cold before he finished wrapping his body around yours — the weight of him, the radiating warmth and calloused palms lulling you to sleep better than any pill.

It’s one of the few rare nights no one wakes him up with an urgent call. No one rips him out of the soft feel of you in his hands and heat of multiple blankets you hide under.

Like a den. Just for the two of you. Safe and hidden from the world, slotted together like a proper little puzzle, his lips pressing to a soft spot behind your ear. This is bliss.

These moments are exactly what he needs when everything is gruelling and heavy.

John swears on one of these days he will actually sign his resignation letter and never leave again. It would be lovely to spend the rest of his life with you. Sleeping and waking up in hazy mornings, helping you get ready for work, getting a pet. Or a baby, if you’d feel like you two would like one.

The night is tender to John in a ways it rare is and he allowed himself to dream as he slowly dozed off.

Or he could save up some more so you both can retire. A quiet life in a countryside with a flock of chickens and you by his side. Maybe even some bees — you have a sweet tooth and he’d love to indulge it.

He’d love to keep you warm and fed and happy for the rest of your lives.

To give you the stability you deserve. The safe assurance that he will always come home for dinner.

But it all can wait for now. Nothing matters other than his lovely spouse in his hands and their limbs tangled under warm blankets.

John falls asleep shortly after you, pressed to your body, one hand holding you close to him — even if he doesn’t move, you have a tendency to move around the bed and well…floors are cold and hard.

Better safe than bruised.

Morning comes as soft as it could — sky is heavy with clouds, light seeping through curtains and colouring the floors in warm greys. It’s still too early to actually get up, everything outside the bed too cold for the comfort of tender pliant from sleep body.

You get up first, slinging feet in warm thick socks on the floors and pressing a gentle kiss to John’s cheek, giggling quietly when he grumbles — his limbs heavy with sleep, eye half-lidded and he’s so relaxed it makes your heart flutter.

Floorboards quietly creak under your steps, as you pull on John’s sweater and giggle again when he flips onto the stomach, watching you with eyes so soft he probably doesn’t even realise it.

Sometimes you aren’t even sure John knows how much it’s evident that he loves you. All of you, every breathing moment of his life, every moment he has to himself.

“Mornin’, husband”, you whisper for some reason and smile wider when he pulls your pillow closer, propping his chin on it.

“Mornin’, luv.”, he’s still sleep-drunk and soft, hoarse voice sending delicious shivers down your spine. It feels like he melts harder when you call him husband. When you wear his sweater, when you look at him like that.

“I’m gonna make us tea, I’ll come back”, you announce, still whispering, your hair messy and your smile wider when his eyes graze your knees, tongue licking his lips.

Someone’s in the good mood.

The kitchen is cold, but you feel so warm it’s almost hot. There are very few days you and John are awarded a morning like that.

A quiet one. A soft one. A domestic one.

Metal of the kettle softly clinks when you put it on the stove, fire sparkling to life, hungrily licking on red enamel. You hum to yourself, squinting when morning light hits your face.

John joins you after a little bit, his hands just coming out of nowhere — wrapping around your midsection and pulling back, earning himself a yelp that rewards you with a huffing laughter.

Price doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his smile when he kisses your cheek, palms groping at the soft swell of your belly. He is big and heavy in the most delicious way, wrapping himself around you as much as he physically can, pressing short tickling kisses all over.

You never want this moment to end.

“You’r beautiful”, he grumbles quietly and playfully bites your shoulder before nuzzling in you neck again. Still sleepy, aching to get you back in bed and back in his hands. Back in your den.

“And you are in a good mood”, you chuckle, turning off the stove when kettle starts whistling. John tenses up whenever he hears high or loud noises this early in the morning — brain not fully registering he’s home.

He’d never admit it but he doesn’t need to. You can see it.

John patiently waits for you to brew teas for both of you, mugs so different it’s almost comical, his brows quirking when he notices it, but he doesn’t say anything.

Like he doesn’t want to break the quiet peaceful silence stretching between you two. Like he wants to prolong it as much as possible.

“Le’s go back to bed”, his palms do not leave your belly, lips ghosting over your shoulders, pressing less than innocent kiss just below your ear.

“Still sleepy?”, there’s teasing lilt to your voice but he just hums, nodding, hugging you tighter. You aren’t even sure he cares much for tea right now.

“ ‘ve ought to give you proper Valentine’s Day present”, he mumbles, teeth pressing to the crook of your neck, his whole body leaning into yours when you gasp. “Fancy celebratin’ with your husband?”, his voice drips with satisfaction, pads of his fingers sinking into your soft flesh, his hips rolling to show just how much he missed you.

“When have I ever said no to gifts from my favourite husband?”, you murmur, laughing when he huffs out in your neck, his affection seeping into you, soaking through.

You can feel his grin when he kisses your neck again.

“ ‘m the only husband.”, John breathes out, pulling you out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. Back under the heat and security of your heavy blankets.

“You tell yourself that.”, you giggle harder when he hoists you up, carrying you the last few feet to the bed, his touches less than innocent now.

“Cheeky li’le thing.”, there is adoration in his every word, his eyes dark and half-lidded, palms scorching on your skin when he pulls your legs over his shoulders.

“Your cheeky little thing”, you talk back, goosebumps raising on your skin when he pulls his sweater off you, slowly lowering himself under the covers. It’s hot to be under so many blankets.

It’s hot to be under him.

You never want to leave.

“Mine”, he agrees, voice dropping lower when he settles between your thighs properly and rubs his cheek on your inner thigh, eyes crinkling when you gasp, his beard scratching the thin skin there. “Always mine.”

And then he slides lower, his mouth on you — sinfully hot and slick, tongue leaving you gasping and whimpering. Sweetest sounds from his sweetest spouse.

Only his. Always his.

John drags his tongue up, looking up at you — the primordial hunger, the best sinner, the heat and the desire. Your husband.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”, he breathes out before letting his drool drip down on your aching sex and using his thumb to rub it in. Filthy.

“Here’s to many more of ‘em”, John promises, looking you in the eyes, his thumb pulling out the neediest sounds out of you.

Yes, happy Valentines indeed. And good morning.

[vandme12]

i LOOOOOVEEEEEE your fics omgomg

i was wondering if you could do hcs on Ronin from KC in a relationship ( with us ) if you havent already ? ? tyyy

Ronin in a Relationship!

Flirtation is a Weapon – Every interaction is a battle of wits and double meanings. Ronin flirts like it’s a game, but every joke has a sharp edge, every smirk hiding something deeper. He wants you flustered, but more than that? He needs you to flirt back.

Obsession Disguised as Devotion – He won’t call it obsession—he’ll just call it attention to detail. Your favorite food? Memorized. Your schedule? Oh, he’s painfully aware. If something’s off, if someone’s bothering you—he’s already taken care of it.

“What? You wanted them alive?” – Speaking of taking care of things… yeah. Ronin’s love language? Murder. Someone so much as looks at you wrong, and suddenly they’re a missing person’s case.

The Devil’s Full Attention – Ronin has a short attention span for most people, but you? You could be doing the most mundane thing, and he’s watching you like you’re the only thing that exists. And if you’re ignoring him? He will make himself impossible to ignore.

Touch is a Privilege – He’s not big on casual affection with anyone else, but you? He’s constantly draping himself over you, an arm around your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. If you try to move away, he just tightens his grip with a smug little tsk—as if to say, where do you think you’re going?

Possessive, but in a Fun Way (Mostly) – “Babe, you’re mine.” That’s not up for debate. But he’s not the jealous type—he’s the let them try type. He wants someone to think they can take you from him, just so he can prove how wrong they are.

Every Threat is a Promise – He doesn’t make empty threats. You know this. If he says someone’s on thin ice? They’re already under it. If he promises to “ruin you,” well… hope you didn’t have plans tomorrow.

You’re His Favorite– He plays with everyone, but with you? It’s different. He wants you to push back, to challenge him. If you can keep up, if you can toy with him right back—oh, you might just be his new addiction.

Sharp Kisses, Sharper Words – He kisses like he talks—slow, teasing, always promising more. He bites. A lot. Your lips, your neck, your soul—nothing is safe. He loves hearing you gasp, loves knowing you’ll still want more.

Murder as a Love Language – He doesn’t bring you flowers. He brings you knives, guns, evidence of someone who needed to die. “Look, sweetheart, I got you a gift~” he hums, presenting a bloodstained ring from some poor bastard.

Meta Hints That He’s Too Aware – He drops cryptic little comments that make your skin crawl. Stuff like, “Why didn’t ya run when ya had the chance?” or “We both know this story ain’t got a happy ending, sweetheart.” And yet… you stay.

Always One Step Ahead – Good luck hiding anything from him. He knows when you’re lying. He knows what you’re thinking before you say it. And if you try to surprise him? He just grins. “Aww, babe, ya really think I didn’t see that coming? Cute.”

Sleeps Like a Cat, Clings Like a Demon – Ronin doesn’t need sleep, but when he does sleep? He sleeps on you. Limbs tangled, face buried against your neck, completely dead weight. Try moving. I dare you.

No Such Thing as “Too Much” – You wanna be obsessed with him? Good. He expects it. In fact, if you’re not at least half as obsessed with him as he is with you, he will make your life a living hell until you prove yourself.

Surprisingly Soft, When No One’s Looking – He’ll never admit it, but sometimes, just sometimes, when it’s late and no one else is around, he’ll just hold you. No teasing, no jokes. Just… holding you like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

The Only Opinion That Matters – He doesn’t care what anyone else thinks of him. But you? Your words sting if you’re not careful. If you tell him he went too far, if you tell him you’re disappointed—he’ll laugh it off. But later, when he’s alone, it eats at him.

He Will Ruin You – But only so he can put you back together again. He wants to watch you rebuild yourself and see if you can handle it. If you can? You’re his forever. If you can’t? Well… he did warn you, didn’t he? you're still his.

The Devil Keeps His Promises – If he says he’ll protect you? Consider yourself untouchable. If he says you’re his? There’s no escaping it. Ronin never breaks a promise. Ever.

You’re the Only Exception – He doesn’t care about most people. But you? You’re different. He won’t say it outright, but it’s there in the way he watches you, in the way he makes sure you’re always within reach. The Devil may not have a heart, but if he does? You’re the only one holding it.

Cuddling is Mandatory – He doesn’t ask to cuddle. He decides cuddling is happening, and you just have to deal with it. One second you’re minding your business, the next? Boom, he’s on you, arms locked like a vice. Hope you didn’t have plans.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart – His hands are always cool, and he loves using them against your warm skin. Back of your neck? Chilling touch. Slipping under your shirt? You yelp every time, and he lives for it.

Insists on Being Your Pillow – No, really. Whether it’s his chest, lap, or arm, you are sleeping on him, not the other way around. If you try to move? You don’t.'

Loves Watching You Sleep – Not in a creepy way. But when you’re completely relaxed, he can’t help but trace his fingers over your face, memorizing you.

You Can Steal His, But… – If you take his jacket, his gloves, or god forbid his scarf? He’s gonna make a show out of how you owe him now. “Aw, babe, ya wanna wear my stuff? That’s cute. But I’m gonna need payment in kisses, minimum.”

His Laughter is Just for You – Ronin doesn’t laugh for people. He laughs at them. But with you? It’s different. When you make him genuinely laugh? It’s softer. Less mocking. Almost... human.

Surprise Hugs from Behind – You’ll be focused on something, and then—bam—arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, a lazy hum against your neck. “Whatcha doin’, sweetheart? Thinkin’ ‘bout me?”

Hates Waking Up Without You – If you get out of bed before him, you will be dragged back. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. Where d’you think you’re goin’? You’re my prisoner ‘til further notice.”

Loves when you're playing with his Hair – It’s a habit, a distraction, or just an excuse to touch him.

Your Happiness is His Favorite Reward – If you smile at something he does? That’s the good stuff. He won’t admit it, but he feels happy too.

Kisses are a Game – You kiss him? He has to one-up you. Peck on the cheek? He’s got one for your nose, then your jaw, then— yeah, good luck getting out of this.

Acts Like You Owe Him for Existing – “Babe, I graced ya with my presence today. A thank-you kiss is the bare minimum.” He’s only half-joking.

Secretly Loves Being Pampered – You run your fingers through his hair? Give him a massage? Kiss his scars? He melts. But he’ll never ask for it outright—you gotta catch him off guard.

His Definition of a “Date” is Unhinged – A normal dinner? Boring. A walk under city lights after he just disposed of a body? Now that’s romantic. He likes doing weird, chaotic things with you—something that makes for a story.

Loves Ruining Sweet Moments – You’re having a heartfelt moment, staring into each other’s eyes, and then—“You’re really into me, huh? Kinda embarrassing for you.” You will smack him, and he will laugh.

Hand Holding is a Power Move – If he interlocks fingers with you in public? He’s making a statement. It’s less affectionate and more this one’s mine.... No, It's to tease you

You’re the Only Person He’ll Apologize To – If he ever actually upsets you? He’ll brush it off at first, but later that night, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll mutter something like, “Didn’t mean to piss ya off, y’know. Won’t happen again.” And with Ronin? That’s as real as it gets.

[velieditss]

Valentine’s Day

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧

♡ ✧ Valentine’s Headcanons ✧ ♡

I know I'm a day late, but late is better than never

✧･ﾟ Aemond ･ﾟ✧

He doesn’t see himself as a romantic man. He doesn’t expect anyone to sigh over him, nor does he believe in sentimental gestures. But if you ever happened to mention—almost absentmindedly—that you like a certain book, a particular piece of jewellery, or a specific dessert, he will remember. And days later, you’ll find it in your room or among your belongings, with no note, no explanation. He won’t tell you it was him. He doesn’t seek recognition. Simply knowing that you have something that makes you happy is enough.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Gwayne ･ﾟ✧

If you give him a gift, no matter how small, he will carry it with him always. A handkerchief embroidered with care, a simple thread bracelet, a trinket of little value… To him, it is a treasure. And if anyone dares to mock him, he won’t even flinch. He will simply smile calmly before replying, “Only true men can bear the weight of love.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Davos ･ﾟ✧

Flowery words aren’t his style. He has no patience for long letters or poetic confessions. His words are simple, direct, impossible to misinterpret. One day, without warning, he will look you straight in the eye and say, “I like you. I want to be with you. Tell me what I need to do.” And then he will wait, with the quiet certainty of a man who has made up his mind.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Aegon ･ﾟ✧

He never understood why people celebrate love only one day a year. If he is in love, he shows it every day. You wake up to gifts on your bed, to spontaneous parties thrown in your honour, to his laughter declaring that the world should celebrate your existence just as much as he does. There are no limits to his extravagance, nor to his desire to see you happy.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Daeron ･ﾟ✧

Valentine’s Day isn’t enough for him. He learns to play an instrument in secret, practising until his fingers ache, just so that on that special day, you can hear a melody composed solely for you. And when he plays it, there will be pride in his gaze, because every note carries a piece of his heart.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Cregan ･ﾟ✧

He’ll teach you to hunt… but will do all the work himself. If you ever express an interest, he’ll take you with him, but in the end, he’ll ensure you don’t have to lift a finger. "This isn’t your place," he’ll say, though in truth, he simply wants to shield you from any discomfort.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Jace ･ﾟ✧

When the time comes to give you a gift, he is restless. He makes sure everything is perfect, that it is something you will truly love. He might rehearse his words in front of a mirror or second-guess himself a hundred times before handing it over. Because to him, it isn’t just a gift. It’s his way of showing how much you mean to him.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

✧･ﾟ Luke ･ﾟ✧

He wants to surprise you, so he decides to bake a cake for Valentine’s Day. But something goes wrong. Perhaps too much flour, or not enough sugar. Perhaps the kitchen ends up in complete chaos. But even so, he presents it to you with a beaming smile, proud of his effort, hoping that at the very least, the thought behind it will make you happy.

Masterlist

[kunareads]

and i bet it's even better than in my head

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

satoru's valentine's day present causes headlines.

prev

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 5k

this is the last part. i love them so much and they're so sweet and it only made sense to end it on valentine's day <3 <3

content: another awards show, tension, reader loves torturing satoru lol, fluff, SMUT!, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, nanami hating them, internet uproar. slight smau.

18+ please i block children <3

+++

music hums through the car’s speakers, low and familiar. anticipation simmers between you and satoru, the air warm and electric.

his fingers brush against your wrist as he fastens your bracelet, the touch lingering before trailing up to adjust the strap of your dress. the fabric catches the light, its shimmer matched to the shade of his jacket.

he leans in, looking you over. “good?”

you hum, smoothing his collar, fingers trailing along his jaw. a smudge of gloss lingers just below, and you wipe it away with your thumb.

“you should’ve left it,” he murmurs, teasing but not joking.

the car slows. camera flashes catch in the tinted windows, bright bursts against the dark. your gaze meets his, and for a moment, everything stills.

we’re really doing this.

your thumb sweeps over his cheek. “happy valentine’s day, satoru.”

he leans in to press a careful kiss to your lips. “happy valentine’s day, princess.”

the car door opens, and the energy shifts.

flashes explode, the carpet illuminated. the noise doubles—shouted questions, photographers calling your names, attention crackling in the air.

you’re used to this. so is satoru. but together, it’s more.

his hand finds the small of your back, a quiet claim, more instinct than intention. you both play to the cameras at first: the flash of his smile, the perfect turn of your head, a performance both of you know by heart.

then, when the moment is right, he leans down, his voice low and just for you. “you’re unreal.”

his lips brush your shoulder—nothing scandalous, just enough to set the cameras alight. then, with a slow step back, he gives you space, letting you take center stage.

and you do, tilting your head just enough, shifting so the light catches the glimmer of your dress, giving them exactly what they want.

even in the chaos, there’s the quiet undercurrent of his unwavering attention on you. you like the way he looks at you, like the rest of the world is background noise. you glance back, unable to help yourself. he doesn’t look away. doesn’t even pretend to.

his lips twitch, staring you dead in the eye like he knows something they don’t.

+++

the noise lingers past the carpet, a steady hum of excitement trailing you and satoru into the interview area. cameras roll, microphones extend toward you, and you barely have a second to adjust before a familiar voice cuts in.

nobara leans in, eyes glinting. “you arrived together, in matching outfits, and satoru literally kissed your shoulder on the carpet—should we be reading into this?”

you blink, glancing down at your outfit, then at him. “wait, we match?”

satoru scoffs, shaking his head. “she copied me.”

you nudge him lightly, and nobara snickers. “so, are you two celebrating valentine’s day together?”

satoru’s smile tugs wider as he glances at you. “i’d say this is a pretty solid start.”

nobara shifts, tilting the microphone toward you. “and you’re performing tonight! what can we expect?”

your eyes flick to satoru before you answer. “something new.”

her head tilts. “wait, like, never-heard-before new?”

satoru’s head jerks toward you. “wait, actually?”

“you really didn’t know?” nobara asks, brows lifting.

you shrug, feigning innocence. “he loves surprises.”

satoru blinks, processing. then his eyes narrow. “do i?”

nobara just laughs, moving on, but you’ve planted your seed.

by the time you make it past the press line, the internet is already in flames.

@/ynupdates: THE WAY SHE SAID ‘HE LOVES SURPRISES’ AND HE JUST STARED AT HER LIKE ??? DO I ???

@/fulltimeshipper: the way satoru got bamboozled on that carpet and just rolled with it. like okay sir go get your life rocked i guess

@/satorusimplicity: not she’s giving him a valentine’s day present in the form of a mystery performance……… let’s pray

the night moves in flashes—satoru’s laughter in your ear, the warmth of his hand warm on your thigh, champagne bubbles fizzing against your lips.

the ceremony blurs past in speeches, applause, and stolen glances. each time you turn to him, he’s already watching, eyes gleaming, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

just before you head backstage, he leans in close. “should i be nervous?”

you just smirk, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his jacket before kissing his cheek and slipping away.

your outfit is something stolen from the past, romantic and undone. lace and silk hug you, sheer in places meant to tease.

beyond the curtain, the crowd murmurs, rising into cheers as your name is announced. onstage, warm golden light pools across deep red velvet, roses scattered like remnants of a perfect night.

the first note hums in your ear. the moment the stage manager signals, you step into the light.

you sink into a velvet lounge chair, crossing your legs, leaning in like you’re telling a secret.

i was in a sheer dress, the day that we met we were both in a rush, we talked for a sec

the music carries over the room, curling like smoke. your gaze drifts the crowd, landing on him.

satoru is grinning. at first. you keep singing.

then his chest rises on a slow inhale. realization flickers in his eyes. you see the exact moment he puts it together.

oh.

you sit up, fingers grazing the rim of the glass beside you, lifting it slowly. the next lines slip from your lips, smooth as silk.

who’s the cute guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad mm? like i know it sound a bit redundant but i bet we’d have really good bed chem

the camera follows your gaze, panning to him.

he leans forward, eyes locked on you, blinking like he’s processing the fact that you are, in fact, doing this to him on live television. he shakes his head, smiling like can’t believe you—entertained, stunned, and completely enamored.

you bend down, fingers ghosting a red rose before plucking it from the stage. soft petals brush against your skin as you stand and start walking.

the audience stirs. your voice is lower now, sweeter.

and i bet we’d both arrive at the same time

satoru tilts his head slightly, watching you approach.

and i bet the thermostat’s set at six-nine

you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. as you pass, you set the rose down on his table, fingers trailing across his shoulders like an afterthought.

and i bet it’s even better than in my head

the cameras catch everything—his sharp inhale, the way his fingers twitch against his thigh, the way his tongue presses against his cheek like he just took a hit he wasn’t prepared for.

the beat shifts back in as you slip toward center stage. just before you turn away completely, you look straight at him.

how you pick me up, pull ‘em down, turn me ‘round, oh, it just makes sense how you talk so sweet when you’re doin’ bad things that’s bed chem

satoru doesn’t even try to play it cool. he’s staring, lips parted, one hand braced against the table, like he needs to ground himself.

the crowd roars as the song melts into its final note, and you just smile, letting the music fade out around you as the stage lights dim.

and in the audience, satoru exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

beyond the stage, beyond the cameras, the performance hits like a shockwave.

@/chaoticgood: why am i being seduced rn??????

@/ynenergy: SHE WALKED RIGHT PAST HIM LIKE HE WAS JUST ANOTHER MAN. I WOULD NOT SURVIVE THIS

@/satorusbraincell: SATORU BLINK TWICE IF YOU’RE IN DISTRESS

@/ynsleftknee: spending my valentine’s day watching this lady seduce her man on national tv…

+++

it’s been a week since you last saw each other. too long.

you don’t notice him at first.

satoru leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as your team moves around you—adjusting, blending, spraying.

you reach for your lipstick last, leaning close to the mirror, swiping on the deep red shade in smooth, practiced strokes.

he still doesn’t announce himself—just waits, tracking your every move. the way you press your lips together, checking the color. the satisfied tilt of your chin.

then you see movement at the edge of the mirror. broad shoulders, white hair, blue eyes locked on you.

excitement surges so fast you nearly send a jar of brushes flying.

you run. satoru barely has time to react before you throw yourself into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. he catches you easily, laughing as he stumbles back a step. “miss me?”

you nod, pressing your face into his neck. “obviously.”

you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. just enough for your lips to brush his neck, leaving a smudge of red against his skin.

you blink at the mark. then, slowly, you grin.

satoru narrows his eyes. “what?”

you slide from his hold, grabbing his hands, guiding him toward the dressing room chair.

“sit.”

he obeys, dropping into the seat, letting you climb into his lap. his eyes glimmer—amusement, intrigue, a little bit of trouble—as you twist the lipstick open and lean in.

a kiss beneath his jaw.

then another.

and another.

by the time you reach his collarbone, the collar of his shirt is a disaster—smudges of red staining the crisp white fabric, a masterpiece of your making. you sit up, admiring your work, before reapplying.

satoru huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “kento’s gonna be pissed.”

“looks hot,” you say, grinning. “hold still.”

your fingers trail down, making quick work of the buttons, pushing his shirt open. his breathing stutters, but he doesn’t stop you. he just watches, eyes dark, waiting.

then your lips are on him again, finding his chest, his shoulders, moving lower, leaving traces of red like a brand. your lips trace the hard lines of his stomach, pressing deeper, leaving proof.

he exhales sharply, head tipping back. by the time you’re done, he’s covered—his throat, his chest, the dips of his abs, all ruined.

you press one last kiss to his jaw, and satoru groans, head dropping forward. “if you keep going, we’re not making it to set.”

you tilt your head, feigning consideration. then, deliberately, you hover over his mouth.

the air tightens—waiting, waiting—

“fuck it.”

the chair scrapes back as he moves. you find yourself on the vanity, legs spread, satoru between them.

his mouth finds your throat immediately, open and hungry.

you laugh, breath hitching as his lips drag lower, hands pushing up your robe, fingers skimming bare skin. something clatters to the floor.

“you’re making a mess,” you murmur, exhaling sharply as his teeth scrape your collarbone.

he laughs against your skin, voice rough. “i’m making a mess?”

his lips find the top of your chest, the dip above your ribs, hands pushing your thighs further apart—

a loud sigh.

a very loud, very familiar sigh.

you freeze. so does satoru, lips still parted against your skin.

slowly, he lifts his head, shielding you as he closes your robe.

in the doorway, kento nanami stands—arms crossed, unimpressed.

his gaze travels from satoru’s face, to his lipstick-stained shirt, to his lipstick-stained body.

a beat.

“no.”

you look at satoru. satoru looks at you.

then, at the same time: “too late.”

kento pinches the bridge of his nose.

satoru grins, shameless. “what? it’s the look.”

+++

the set glows under golden lighting, everything draped in a hazy warmth. the camera is rolling, the crew watching from just beyond the lights. you sit at a bar, idly tracing the rim of a glass, your gaze flicking just past the camera as the intro to your song plays through the set speakers.

kento’s direction is simple: untouched, untouchable, alluring. you make it look effortless.

right on cue, satoru moves into the frame. his presence shifts the energy instantly, like a static charge through the air.

he glides in behind you, his reflection catching in the mirrored bar shelves. a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened like he’s already been up to something.

he doesn’t touch you. just leans in like the script tells him to. but instead of playing his role, he uses it. “if kento wasn’t burning a hole through my skull,” he murmurs, just for you, “i’d have my hand up your skirt already.”

your breath catches, barely noticeable, but satoru feels it.

you don’t react. at least, not the way he wants you to. instead, you follow the script, smirking slow and knowing, like you saw this coming a mile away.

off-camera, an exasperated sigh cuts through the moment.

“good, keep that smirk. satoru, shut up.”

kento’s voice is flat, like he’s aged a decade in the past thirty seconds.

satoru grins. he doesn’t even pretend to be sorry. you press your lips together, fighting the urge to laugh.

+++

the elevator doors glide shut, sealing the three of you in. cameras are rolling.

dim lighting casts soft shadows across the walls. reflective panels make the space feel tighter. the script’s notes flicker through your mind: anticipation, restraint, tension.

kento doesn’t wait. “this is about restraint. no touching.”

satoru leans against the back wall, hands in his pockets. relaxed on the surface. his tongue skims his teeth, jaw shifting, gaze fixed on you like a challenge.

you say nothing. you just press the top floor button, hovering over the emergency stop in faux consideration.

a scripted pause.

satoru shifts, unhurried. he doesn’t touch you—technically. but you hear his inhale, like he’s fighting an urge. he takes a step closer, crowding your space. you feel the heat of him behind you.

“define touching,” he says with a smirk.

the words skim down your spine, and you react before you can help it, you shift, taking an almost invisible inhale, your lips parting slightly.

kento’s jaw sets. “i will physically remove you.”

+++

the suite set is dimly lit, soft and gold with faux city lights filtering through the windows.

satoru reclines against the headboard, white shirt undone, boxers riding low on his hips. evidence of your earlier antics lingers—lipstick scattered on him like a map of everywhere you’ve been.

you straddle him, hovering, silk lingerie catching the light. the scene is simple: seduction in motion.

you lean in, your lips brushing the red-stained curve of his throat. a deliberate tease. then, so subtle only he can feel it, you roll your hips.

satoru’s breath stutters, but outwardly, he doesn’t react. not for the cameras. his hands twitch against the sheets, jaw tightening.

then, so low that only you can hear it:

“keep doing that, and i’ll give the cameras something real to shoot.”

your lips curve. his hands remain at his sides, but you can feel the restraint humming under his skin.

you tilt your head slightly, gaze flickering to his hands, daring him.

you shift again. just for him. a breath catches—his, not yours. his jaw tightens.

and then, to no one’s surprise, he caves.

his hands slide up your thighs, fingers spreading against your waist, pulling you closer.

“CUT.”

kento’s voice slices through the haze.

satoru exhales, tilting his head back against the headboard. his grip tightens for just a second before he lets go, dragging his hands back to his sides.

kento steps forward, frustration palpable. “too much hands.”

satoru hums. “disagree.”

you smirk, tilting your head. “i think it’s fine.”

+++

the moment the door clicks shut behind kento, the studio crew finally gone, satoru exhales sharply, like he’s been holding it in all night.

you stand by a mirror, adjusting the lace of your lingerie, fixing your makeup. poised, untouched.

across the room, satoru is a wrecked contrast—lipstick-stained, his open shirt hanging off his shoulders, boxers slung low on his hips. he looks like something you ruined, something you can ruin again.

he drags his gaze over you, indulgent. the soft fabric clings to your skin, shifting as you move. he watches the steady movement of your breaths, the way you subtly adjust your posture. you’re perfect.

you meet his eyes in the mirror, tilting your head. “you enjoyed that a little too much, huh?”

his grin is sharp, dangerous. “you have no fucking idea.”

you take a slow step back, just to see if he follows. you expect a chase.

he’s on you in seconds.

he catches your waist, guiding you back until the bed catches you. the second your back hits the sheets, he’s there—pressing you down, lips crashing into yours, swallowing the gasp that slips free. his tongue sweeps against yours, greedy and unrelenting, like he’s making up for every second he had to hold back on set.

his hands slide down, rough, impatient, gripping the backs of your thighs. your panties are gone in a single motion. his body is flush against you, hips pressing into yours, the heat unbearable.

he bites your bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, murmuring, “such a tease.”

his hands slip beneath the silk, dragging over the curve of your waist, his fingers pressing into soft skin. his lips follow—jaw to throat to collarbone, warm and open-mouthed. his teeth scrape lightly and you arch, fingers twisting into his hair.

he groans when you tug, pressing his hips down into yours, letting you feel how hard he is, how much he wants you. his mouth moves lower, down to the swell of your breasts, sucking a mark right above your heart.

his fingers slide further down, grazing heat, and he exhales sharply, like it’s confirmation of what he already knew.

“fuck,” he groans, pressing a kiss just above your navel, voice wrecked. “already soaked for me.”

you suck in a breath, fingers threading into his snowy hair, guiding him lower.

he chuckles, breath hot against your skin. “desperate?”

you roll your eyes, and he just grins.

you squirm beneath him, already impatient, aching, but satoru just keeps doing what he’s doing. he loves this—loves teasing, loves making you wait, loves knowing how much you want him.

he kisses higher, right by where you need him most, but doesn’t give in yet. instead, he exhales, sending cool air against your heat, watching your body react.

“missed this,” he murmurs. “missed you.”

“missed you too, ‘toru,” you breathe, nails scraping against his scalp.

he hums at that, pressing another kiss just above your clit, lips lingering.

then, finally, he licks a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds. your back arches, legs tensing over his shoulders, and he groans at your reaction, at how needy you already are for him.

he takes his time, tongue dragging through your slick, slow and unhurried, savoring the way you writhe. you buck against his mouth, chasing friction, but a strong hand moves over your pelvis, holding you down.

“let me enjoy this,” he mutters against you, voice thick with amusement. “made me suffer all fucking day.”

he sucks at your clit, just enough to make you whimper, to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. your head falls back, breath breaking into shaky gasps. he’s not rushing—he’s just working you open, licking into you slowly, precisely, making sure you feel it.

satoru loves every noise you make. he’s been hooked since the first time you came apart for him. so when you moan, unrestrained, he chuckles, breath hot against your slick skin. “there she is,” he murmurs, smiling as he pushes your legs up, exposing more of you. “give me another one.”

his tongue curls inside you, deep and slow, unraveling you. his hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you spread, keeping you from running from the pleasure.

you whine, thighs shaking, fingers slipping from his hair to clutch the sheets. your body feels stretched thin, heat pooling deep, tension winding so tight it nearly hurts.

“satoru—” your voice breaks, high, desperate.

he hums against you, the vibration sinking into you. “yeah, baby?” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to watch you squirm before diving in again.

you whimper, chasing every flick of his tongue, every press of his mouth, your body arching off the bed, desperate for more.

he just grins, watching you struggle, taking his time.

then, suddenly, the pleasure spikes—his tongue curling just right, lips sucking slow and deep, dragging you under.

“oh my god—” your breath stutters, body locking up as your orgasm slams into you, sudden and consuming.

he doesn’t stop. he works you through it, dragging out every last wave, groaning against you and loving the way you fall apart for him. when your body finally shudders, oversensitive, he pulls back, lips slick, pupils blown.

it’s not enough.

your chest rises, unsteady, but the need doesn’t fade. it only deepens, twisting into something hungrier.

you reach for him, tugging him up by the shoulders, nails raking down his back.

he leans over you and grins down, smug and satisfied. “that was a big one,” he teases. “you look so fucking pretty when you cum.”

you don’t think. the word just slips out, breathless, desperate. “please.”

his grin against your jaw is slow, wicked, teasing. but he doesn’t move. "please, what?"

you shift beneath him, thighs squeezing around his hips, trying to pull him closer. but he stays firm, hovering over you.

you feel his bulge against you, his boxers getting covered in your slick. the friction drives you crazy.

“use your words, princess,” he murmurs, lips brushing your throat, sucking lightly. “tell me what you need.”

“satoru—” you whine, back arching, but he just leans back, pushing his boxers down enough to free himself. he lines the tip up against your entrance and stops.

his smirk is slow, easy. “that’s not an answer.”

he rolls his hips, just enough to tease, just enough to make you gasp—then pulls away again.

you whimper, frustration curling through every nerve, every inch of you aching for more. “need you,” you gasp, pulling his hands to your waist, desperate to feel his weight again.

he groans, hips stuttering before he steadies himself. “need me to do what?” his voice is still teasing, but his breathing is heavier now.

he leans down, face-to-face with you. your fingers twist in his hair, nails pressing into his scalp. "need you to fuck me," you breathe, leaving small kisses and licks along his jaw.

his grin sharpens like you just gave him exactly what he wanted. “see?” he purrs, scraping his teeth over your collarbone. "that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"sa—"

"say it again," he murmurs, pressing the tip inside, just barely, before pulling back.

frustration coils tight, unbearable. “fuck me,” you gasp, hips lifting, chasing him. "satoru, please—"

that does it.

his smirk vanishes, his jaw going tight. "fuck—"

his hands grip your thighs, opening them wider.

then, finally, he pushes in, stretching you open with one slow, unrelenting thrust.

a strangled moan rips from your throat, your body arching as he fills you completely.

he groans, pressing his lips to your cheek first, then the top of your head.

"that’s my girl."

his name is a breathless moan on your lips, barely holding its shape as pulls back and sinks into you again, stretching you open until he’s buried to the hilt. your thighs tighten around his waist, locking him in place like you could keep him there forever.

his breath shudders, forehead pressing to yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisting the sheets. he’s already falling apart, his voice a rasp against your lips.

“fuck—so wet, so perfect.”

his words barely register over the rush in your ears, the desperate, needy way your body clenches around him, still sensitive and needy. every inch of him makes you tremble, every movement leaves you gasping. it’s still not enough.

“more.” it slips out, broken, pleading.

he groans, fingers flexing against your hip, keeping you pinned. “you’re fucking insatiable,” he mutters, but he’s just as bad. his next thrust is harder, deeper, pushing you into the mattress, forcing another gasp from your lips.

he swears under his breath, shifting one of your legs higher, draping it over his shoulder, angling himself even deeper. the change has you crying out, your body jolting, nails dragging down his back.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans, voice thick, drinking in every gasp, every broken moan. “lemme hear you.”

he sets a rhythm, slow at first, savoring it—each thrust deliberate, pushing you closer, making your breath stutter, your mind go blank. but it’s not enough, not for either of you.

his grip tightens, his pace quickening. the bed creaks beneath you, the air thick—heat, friction, the obscene slap of skin on skin, the desperate, breathless sounds spilling from your lips.

he tilts his head, voice dipping low, rough, commanding. it’s not something you get to hear often. “open your mouth.”

you don’t even think, just obey—lips parting, chin tilting, waiting. his thumb drags across your bottom lip, smearing your lipstick before he spits, watching your tongue flick out to catch it.

you swallow without hesitation. he twitches inside you at the sight, hips jerking forward, thrusting deeper, rougher.

“good fucking girl,” he groans, voice wrecked, pressing his forehead to yours.

his lips trail down your throat, sucking, biting, marking. he loses himself in the rhythm, hips snapping into you, pulling out just to drive back in harder, deeper. “you take me so fucking well every time.”

your body tightens around him, desperate, clinging. your nails rake down his back, your hips lifting to meet him, to take more. you can never get enough of him.

he leans back slightly, gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider. his gaze drops between you, watching himself disappear into you, watching the way you take him.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “so fucking pretty like this.”

“you like watching?” you tease, but your voice is weak, wrecked.

he groans, grinding into you, making you moan, making you shake. “love watching you fall apart for me,” he mutters, before leaning in, kissing you deep and swallowing your gasps.

the bed creaks louder, the rhythm unraveling into something more frantic, more desperate. your body arches beneath him, his name a choked moan against his lips. he feels it—feels the way your walls flex around him, feels the way you shake, the way you’re already there, teetering, about to fall.

his lips brush against yours, voice low, coaxing. “give it to me.”

and you shatter.

your body bows, fingers digging into his shoulders, his name breaking from your lips repeatedly as your orgasm slams through you, hard, sudden, and overwhelming. your walls pulse around him, dragging him down with you.

his thrusts falter, his grip on your thighs tightening. he moans, deep and wrecked, pressing in as deep as he can go as he spills inside you. his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, skin slick, bodies tangled in the aftershock.

you stay there for a moment until he pulls out, sliding down onto the mattress and pulling you into him. he searches your face, fingers swiping over your spine.

“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft with exhaustion.

you nod, still catching your breath. your fingers thread lazily into his hair, smoothing it back as he exhales against your skin. he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. his voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“let’s go home.”

+++

it’s been two weeks since the music video was filmed. it’s releasing today, and you opted to stay home with satoru for it.

you and satoru are sprawled across the couch in your apartment, the tv murmuring in the background. satoru’s head is in your lap, his arm draped lazily over your thighs, scrolling on his phone. your fingers move absently through his hair, but when you check your notifications, you go still.

"oh, shit."

satoru hums without looking up. “hmm?”

"it’s bad."

his brows lift slightly, but his attention stays on his phone. "define bad."

you hesitate, staring at the screen like it might change if you blink enough times. "i think the internet is broken."

that gets his attention. he shifts, craning his neck to glance at your phone.

"jesus christ."

the tweets are relentless.

@/stanwars: WHY DOES IT FEEL ILLEGAL TO WATCH THIS FOR FREE

@/ynsays: i need to study them under a microscope

@/fathergojo: she wrote this horny ass song about him and then made him ACT IT OUT like a VILLAIN.

@/touchgrasscommittee: kento nanami has seen things he can never unsee. he is never working with them again

the headlines aren’t much better.

Rolling Stone: Y/N’s ‘Bed Chem’ Music Video Redefines Intimacy on Screen

Elle: Y/N’s New Music Video: Cinematic Excellence or Just an Excuse to Make Out?

PopBuzz: The Internet Is in Mourning Because Satoru Gojo Is Officially Taken

you scroll further. “oh, wow.”

satoru shifts, eyes narrowing at the way your expression tightens. "what now?"

you open your group chat.

satoru snorts, scrolling further. "oh my god, look at this tiktok."

the screen shows a fake behind-the-scenes clip of nanami sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose as you and satoru get a little too close on set.

another video cuts to a montage of satoru looking way too into it, captioned this man forgot the cameras were rolling.

another shows a person sipping tea with shaking hands, wrapped in a blanket, sunglasses on, looking like they’ve been through a war.

satoru pouts. “they’re making things up. i was fine during filming.”

you press play on a slowed-down clip of him gripping your thighs, head falling back as you kiss his throat.

"oh, totally," you say, watching the clip, lips twitching. "you were super composed."

his expression shifts immediately. "i don’t like this game anymore."

grinning, you scroll. "oh, wait, they slowed down this part too—"

suddenly, satoru snatches your phone and tosses it onto the other side of the couch.

"okay," he declares, pinning you against the cushions, smirking down at you. "that’s enough of that."

"hey—"

"since we’re dissecting things," he muses, eyes glinting, "let’s talk about your expressions during filming."

you laugh, squirming beneath him. "oh my god, get off me."

his smirk deepens, fingers curling around your wrist, his breath ghosting against your skin. "nah," he says, eyes dark and playful as he leans in, "i think i need to rewatch the footage. for, uh…research. live commentary this time."

you shove at his shoulder, laughing. "satoru—"

but he’s already reaching for the remote.

tags: @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[thenameswinterfics]

BOUND BY FIRE

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader Settings: Season 1 Summary: As the child of Rhaenyra and born dragonless, you grow up enjoying the company of Sunfyre, whose bond is forged by your love and affection for Aegon. But when the duties of the crown tear you apart and the cries of a dragon echo in the night, it is up to you to mend the bond or let it break of its own accord. Word Count: 3345 Warnings: Fluff, angst, suggestive smut, Alicent is kind mention of canon typical incest, canon divergent, hopeful ending, no beta reading. A/N: This is another birthday present for my lovely @legitalicat . Happy birthday to you, lovely. Sorry if I only posted this now, but I hope you like it. This is my first time writing for Aegon, so sorry for the things you will read. I'm a bit rusty with the writing, so sorry even for this. Since I wrote and posted this in a rush, I could change some parts in the following days.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3 (COMING SOON)

A piercing wail broke the silence of the darkness and the sound of rattling chains echoed through the empty corridors. Muffled voices speaking an unfamiliar language could be heard in the distance, trying in vain to calm something in the pit. 

But the terrifying growls told a different story. 

Walking through the corridors of the Dragon's Pit was not an unfamiliar experience, for you had walked through these walls since you were a child, but this time it was a turbulent one. Each step brought a new wave of unease, and you felt an endless shiver run down your spine, releasing a breath you hadn't realised you were holding: the growls and snarls grew in intensity, and deep within you a heavy weight formed in your chest. 

It was a sound you had come to know well, as well as the emotions that flowed with each. The creature's roar was a land of emotions that only members of the house of dragon could feel - joy, anger, sorrow, or a deep sense of unease. You knew with a heart-wrenching certainty that those cries belonged to your lover too, and his dragon was only amplifying them. 

It had been a long time since your mother and the king's wife had been on good terms. Once inseparable childhood companions, their bond had withered over time, giving way to a frosty distance that neither could bridge. Your birth was another friction between them, as Rhaenyra walked through the corridors of the Red Keep and faced the humiliation and pain of labour while introducing you to Alicent, who demanded to see every child pushed out of her body since the birth of her firstborn. 

But the animosity between them has not stopped you from forming a special bond with one of the queen's children: Aegon has been at your side since you took your first steps, and the rumours surrounding your birth did not stop him from seeing you as his most beloved niece, despite the rocky relationship he had with your brothers. 

The genuine affection between you and Aegon did not go unnoticed by Rhaenyra, and a proposal of marriage came during a council to reunite a house divided by mistrust and old grudges: it was the princess's last request to the queen, a sincere attempt to heal the rift and restore the unity that once existed. 

However, Alicent harboured other plans for her firstborn, and certain that one day his father's crown would rest on his head, she demanded that every daughter of the Lords of the Noble Houses attend the Red Keep in the hope of finding him a suitable match. "No bastard's blood will mingle with the dragon's one," she once whispered to an ill and dull Viserys in his chambers, discussing Rhaenyra's proposal.

The affection between you blossomed into the purest and most torturous love, sharing stealing kisses in hidden alcoves and intimacy in the darkness of the castle's secret places. In time, Aegon's temper grew restless, and you began to notice signs of distress in Sunfyre as well. And from the moment Aegon ignored you things turned worse, and the visits to his dragon became sporadic.

Standing in the centre of the pit, you lifted your eyes to the golden creature before you, its huge, heavy body struggling desperately to break the chains that bound it. You recognised the two muffled voices of the two Dragonkeepers trying to calm it, but no Valyrian word was enough, and the dragon protested to be released. 

“We tried everything, but the dragon does not seem to quiet down, princess,” one of the dragonkeepers cried out, but you never met their gazes, “Prince Aegon’s presence is highly requested,” the second one urged, silently pleasing for you to summon Aegon and fetch him in the Dragon’s Pit. 

"Leave him to me," you commanded with a twang in your voice, your gaze still focused on Sunfyre as you took a few steps forward. The faces of the dragonkeepers were filled with consternation as they saw you approach the dragon, no fear on your face. 

"Princess, we cannot let you..." one began, his protest tinged with concern. 

"Leave him to me, I said," you cut him with a cold reply, addressing yourself with an authority worthy of a queen, "I shall call him down and put an end to this once and for all." 

You then turned your full attention to Sunfyre, who stood in all his glory and restlessness, chains adorning his long neck. Once those were removed, you were amazed to see how his behaviour changed, the beautiful golden dragon tentatively approaching you with a regal but uncertain gait. As Sunfyre approached, you couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance to Aegon: both carried the weight of royal blood with quiet dignity, but neither could see the burden of expectation on their shoulders. 

"Vēsperzys," you murmured in a warm and almost maternal voice - a stark contrast to the cold one you had used before - and you reached out tantalisingly for his muzzle, feeling the warmth of his scales under your palm, "lykirī," (Sunfyre, calm.)

The snarls began to falter, replaced by a faint rumble that surrendered to your touch. But once you lowered your guard down, Sunfyre jerked your hand nervously and his cries continued to echo through the pit. Determined to soothe him, you stepped close again and placed both of your hands on his snout, rubbing gently his golden scales.

“Nyke gīmigon ao sagon isse ōdres,” you spoke again softly in High Valyrian, your eyes searching for his, “se nyke gīmigon iksā mundagon syt Aegon. Yn iksan kesīr lēda ao, se kosti umazigho lyks hēnkirī,” you continued, soothing him with gentle movements of your hands. (I know you are in pain, and I know you are sad for Aegon. But I am here with you, and we can find peace together). 

It was then that Sunfyre's eyes met yours, and for that moment you felt a deep connection - a profound bond that was mirrored by the deep love and affection you felt for Aegon. You grew up together with the golden beast, sneaking into the Dragon's Pit whenever you could to listen to the golden beast sing, and riding on its back when it was big enough to carry both of you. Although you did not have a dragon of your own - no dragon egg was brooded to be placed in your cradle - you forged such a strong bond you came to think of Sunfyre as your own. 

You felt his body soothe under your touch, the dragon's mind no longer clouded by fear, and though he could still sense his rider's distress, your presence seemed enough to be a powerful balm. You heard his cries fade, replaced by a low, contented rumble that vibrated through the ground beneath your feet. 

A faint laugh escaped your lips as the dragon lovingly rubbed its snout against you, and in the depths of the pit - the Dragonkeepers' thanks were a distant echo to you - you still ached for Aegon's absence at your side, but a glimmer of hope warmed your heart, along with Sunfyre's quiet chant.

Confined to his chambers, Aegon paced nervously, his fingers running through the platinum strands of his hair as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. Rays of moonlight streamed into the room through the large windows, casting a soft light on his face, accentuating his redden lilac eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks. 

He hated the conflict in his heart, forever torn between his sense of duty and the love he felt for you. As the king's male child, every lord looked to him to follow in his father's footsteps, to continue the line of peace and prosperity that Jaehaerys himself had set, and to keep the Targaryen glory at its peak. At least that was what his mother instilled in him.

“You are the King’s firstborn son, and what everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones is that one day you will be our king,” said Alicent one day in his chambers, anger in her voice as he declared he would never challenge his sister’s claim. What kind of brother would steal his sister’s birthright?, he always thought.

What kind of lover would do such a grave insult to the person they love? 

And when his mother announced that a noblewoman would be chosen to join him on the throne, his world collapsed into a thousand pieces. He would have gladly endured a marriage to his sister, for Helen knew that the match was a matter of duty and would not have blinked at the sight of you two together. But to marry another woman would have been a disrespect to you and the love that had always bound you together. 

It was not an easy decision to let you go, but the weight of the world pressed down on him in a way he could not escape. He could not look into your eyes or Sunfyre's with a light heart, shame nestled in his heart as he thought of what his family would force him to do and how he was not brave enough to face them, the mere thought of disappointing them was even more terrifying than dying in the dragonfire. 

His stream of consciousness was interrupted by a gentle knock on his door. The prince was about to dismiss the presence outside, thinking it was a servant, when he heard the soft sound of your voice. And he froze. 

"Please, uncle," you pleaded outside, the sadness in your voice coming straight to his ears like a sweet torture, "let me in for once. 

Aegon refused to answer, pacing the room nervously, his hands trembling in his hair. He thought that by ignoring you, you would give up and leave him to drown in his misery, but you were Rhaenyra's daughter: her stubbornness was yours too. 

"I am not mad with you for what the queen did at the council," you said, and suddenly you felt his footsteps stop, "I know you did not want any of this, and I know your heart has been torn ever since. But if it is no longer my company you seek, please," you felt the urge to swallow a lump in your throat, your voice faltering slightly, "do not make Sunfyre suffer this much. Allow me to ease your pain, as I always did.” 

A heavy silence followed your last words, and as you thought your words had gone unheeded and turned to leave, you heard the heavy doors of his chambers crack slightly, and soon you were allowed to leave. It was when you stepped inside that you took a look at your lover, the moon rays helping you helped you to see him clearly: his eyes were puffy from the endless tears spilled, and his hair were disheveled as well as his clothes, his gold-embroidered green coat opened to show his messy linen shirt. It hurt you to see him like this, though in your eyes he was still the most beautiful Targaryen you had ever seen. 

“Gaomagon ao pendagon issi hoskagon yno?” Aegon asked in High Valyrian, approaching you slowly and measuredly, his walk reminded you Sunfyre’s one, “Udligon nyke, mandianna. Gaomagon ao pendagon issi hoskagon yno?” (Do you think they are proud of me? Answer me, niece. Do you think they are happy with me?)

You lifted your gaze, locking your eyes in his as you took both of his hands in yours, squeezing them in a comforting way, “Iksan hoskagon hen ao. Eman va moriot issare,” you replied, showing him a warm smile as you tried to let him escape from his thoughts. But your lips soon pressed in a thin line as he shook his head, freeing his hands from your grasp and sitting on a chair, resting his wrists on the armrest. (I am proud of you. I have always been.)

Aegon looked at you, giving you a sad smile as he replied, “Īlen daor kimívagho nūmāzma ao, yn ñuha lentor,” (I was not talking about you, but my family).

“Iksi lentor,” you retorted, approaching him with gentleness, “ īlon stepagon keskydoso ānogar. Emi va moriot sytilībagon hēnkirī ” (We are family, we share the same blood. We have always belonged together.)

“This is not what the queen thinks,” Aegon replied back with weariness in his voice, standing up again and resuming his nervous walk, “Why else would she have forced me to meet every noble lady in this kingdom, making sure that I greeted them with frills and smiles? Why else would she have forced me in an uncomfortable position, forever torn by duty and personal desire?”

His words were full of anguish, and for a moment you felt the weight of his responsibilities on your shoulders too. It was not the crown that was scared of you; Jacaerys would sit on the Iron Throne after your mother, and even though the kingdom came to terms with the idea of a queen ruling, you don't think they would be too happy about a female heir again. It was the ambition the Hightowers put on him and their obsession for the throne, and the fear of losing him and Sunfyre forever that came roaring back strong in your heart. 

“She once told me that the realm knows in their blood and bones I will be king. That if I do not surrender to my sister, my life would be forfeit,” Aegon continued with a trembling voice, his gaze never meeting yours.

"But how? How could I ever do this to the woman I love? How could I have the courage to look her in the eyes, sitting on a throne that is not mine and wearing a crown that has never belonged to me? And for what? For pleasing a man and a woman who never fucking cared about me?", the last words came out as an angry growl, so dangerous even the bravest of the dragons would lower its head. You watched as Aegon threw a jug of water on the ground, shattering it into thousands of pieces.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. Aegon slowly walked over to it, sat down and played nervously with the ring on his finger, hiding his head under his shoulders. “I did not ask for this, sweet niece… never,” he broke the silence, his voice mingling with a few sobs escaping his lips, “I have done and endured what she had asked me for, hoping that mother and father would be proud of me. But it will never be enough for them. It will never be enough for everyone.”

You hesitated at this sight: you had seen him being distressed by his mother's demands, but never had you seen him so sad and defeated, so lost in a darkness he could not escape on his own.

You decided to step closer, your voice barely above a whisper as you kneeled down to him, “Look at me, please,” you demanded, delicately cupping his cheeks in your hands and raising it gently, forcing an eye contact. You smile at the sight of his eyes, reddened by tears but stunning and bright as two precious amethyst stones. 

“You are enough for me, Aegon. You have always been,” your voice came to his ear as soft as honey, and for a second his sobs stopped. “You are worthy just as you are, and there will not be your mistakes or burdens to define you.’

Your kind words made his shaking body stop, as if they were a milky drink that made him feel better. After a while, he looked up at you. At that moment, you could feel strong emotions, but you did not say what they were. Memories of the past and a love that was strong but also broken came back to you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The past and present collided, tangled in the silence, and you both knew you had to deal with them. Then, with a hesitant breath, he reached for you – his fingertips brushing against your hand, as if he was trying to find a way out of his own troubled state. And with the only sound of the crackling wood to break the silence of the night, your faces came closer, your lips timidly brushing at first before crushing together in a desperate and hungry kiss, which tasted of salty tears and unspoken words. 

In the moments that followed, the two of you lay together in bed, your clothes scattered on the floor as your bare bodies touched, exploring each other with an eagerness that had been suppressed for far too long, but at the same time with the calmness to savour it all again, for fear that this might be the most beautiful of dreams, or that one of you might simply disappear from the other's sight. 

You let out a sharp breath and arched your backs as the two of you became one, your bodies moving in a gentle but steady rhythm, your hands and lips savouring every inch of each other until you both reached your peak. You did not care if Aegon’s seed would blossom in your womb and make you round with his child: if this would bind both of you forever through blood and duty, then you would welcome the consequences without hesitation. 

You looked down at the canopy in front of you as you ran your fingers through Aegon's hair, his breath hot against your neck as his arms wrapped around your body as if afraid to let you go. The gentle rise and fall of his breath matched the rhythm of your own, and you closed your eyes, savouring the warmth of his body against yours, whispering words of love and promises to escape together until the slumber wrapped you like a warm blanket. 

Hen lantoti ānogar

Va sȳndroti vāedroma 

(Blood of two

Joined as one)

A cold shiver ran down your face, tingling your skin like a gentle caress, moving your hair in the wind like precious threads of silk, the jewels of your headdress swaying in a sweet melody. You stood still as Aegon approached, a shard of dragonglass in his hand, pressed against your lower lip as blood flowed through the cut. It was a sharp pain that struck you at first, but was eased by the cold wind that blew against your cut and the gentle brush of Aegon's fingerprint on your forehead, drawing a mark with your own blood.

Mēro perzot gīhoti

Elēdroma iārza sīr

Izulī ampā perzī

Prūmī lanti sēteksi

(Ghostly flame

And song of shadows

Two hearts as embers

Forged in fourteen fires)

When it was your turn, you mimicked his movements with smooth and precise movements. After that, the dragonglass sliced your skin again, a long cut on your palms, joined as one, like your own blood flowing in your veins. A ribbon wrapped around your hands, making them tight and united as blood flowed down your arms.

Hen jenȳ māzīlarion

Qēlossa ozūndesi 

Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo

Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi

(A future promised in glass

The stars stand witness

The vow spoken through time

Of darkness and light)

Even when you drank from the same cup, you never stopped looking at each other, your eyes were filled with a pure love that endured every duty and every obstacle. It was a moment of triumph for both of you, two dragons who finally break their chains and soar freely into the endless sky, no longer bound by fate or fear. When the last word in High Valyrian was spoken, you both poured your lips in a sealing kiss, the roars of Sunfyre sealed the union as it crossed the sky and danced on the lover’s heads.

You had always dreamed of running away with Aegon from King's Landing, far from the viper's nest that had torn you apart, of marrying in secret in a remote part of Westeros where neither Rhaenyra's court nor Alicent's would ever be able to find you and bring you home. 

But this time it was not a dream.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

[mdemgustanlasmujeres]

bc it's five in the morning and I haven't even slept yet and I'm very drunk

now I present you my hc of Glinda ulpland being a proud owner of a Polaroid camera:

Glinda having a Polaroid camera bc she loves to take photos of beautiful things

She has a lot of albums bc she can't help it, she is Galinda and she can find beauty in all of the things of her life

And then elphaba comes to the picture

Galinda thinks elphaba is beautiful from the moment they met, actually in this universe she has to stop her hand bc she was about to reach for her camera bc she thought that elphaba was in the perfect lighting and that indeed she really look beautiful

After all, galinda upland takes pictures of beautiful things

Galinda having crisis bc she can't take pictures of elphaba bc "they loathe each other" (they don't) (they are just being useless lesbians)

Oh but once's she is friends with elphaba, it is a fact that she would have at least two albums that are specifically pictures of elphaba

The album will be green (obviously) but in the cover would have "Elphie" in big pink ass letters

And the second one would be "Elphie, volume two"

Now she doesn't just takes pictures of beautiful things, now she takes pictures of moments, beautiful moments

One day elphaba did ask her why she takes so much pictures of her and Galinda simply responded that she loves to to take pictures of beautiful things

On the day that elphaba was going to the emerald city day, Glinda did bring her camera bc she was taking pictures of elphie in the train

She was so happy taking pictures of the day of the two of them in emerald city

And she was way more happy of taking pictures of Elphie enjoying the day in the emerald city bc in her words after all "she had look positively emerald"

But when elphaba is gone at the end of the day, after all of what happend in the emerald city

she only has her albums to remember elphie and all the beautiful memory's they once enjoyed

she can't help but to think how much she wanted at least one last picture of Elphie and how beautiful she had look up there in the sky

IM VERY DRUNK IM SORRY IF THERE IS SOME WRONG SPELLING IN SOME PARTS but yeah, I been thinking about this so much and how Glinda would look at the nights at the last Polaroid of the two of them

The Polaroid of Elphie and her in they're last short day in the emerald city

[laurencem]

Happy Valentines Day, @daynascullys !

IT IS I, YOUR SECRET ADMIRER 😍 Many moons ago, you asked me to make you an MSR playlist, and this seems like the perfect moment to follow through on that promise. I can't guarantee that it's as spectacular (or artistic) as those you've already created, but these songs all hold a special place in my heart, so I hope you love them as much as I do.

(warning: squee-ing ahead)

🔷🔹Hummingbird (The Weepies)🔹🔷

I think I've shared this song with you before, but it was the FIRST thing that came to mind when you mentioned a playlist. It's the Mulder-iest thing that ever Muldered. He may wander and drift, but there's only one place he wants to be at the end of the day, and that's with her. ❤️

Hold out your hand Yours is the only one that I dare to land upon...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: The Unnatural

🔷🔹Mystery (Indigo Girls)🔹🔷

This was my squealing fangirl tune of choice back in the day. I want them to walk off into the sunset with this in the background. I want it to be the soundtrack for slow Saturday morning sex. I want it to play at the wedding reception that they don't have because they get married in a grove of trees with only an officiant present, but that's a headcanon for another day.

Maybe that's all that we need, is to meet in the middle of impossibility We're standing at opposite poles, equal partners in a mystery

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Amor Fati

🔷🔹Elsewhere (Sarah McLachlan)🔹🔷

It's the late 90's and wee baby Yeti is in her bedroom, headphones on, writing terrible fanfiction, playing this on repeat. It's an Emo!Scully anthem with impeccable OG run vibes. WHERE MY MAGGIES AT, YO 🙌

But I love the way you smile at me I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near I believe, I...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: all things

🔷🔹This Is Why I Need You (Jesse Ruben)🔹🔷

In my head this is just wedding vows. I won't quote the whole thing, just go listen, but THIS, your honor. THIS.

You make my crazy feel normal every time

They're both so WEIRD but they're so PERFECT for each other I can't EVEN (bolts for the feelings cave)

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Je Souhaite

🔷🔹Skin (Chris Trapper)🔹🔷

I’ll be kissing you when you take your last gasp of air?  Mulder-coded.  If you break in two or turn into a skeleton, I’ll give you my skin?  Mulder-coded.  You were covered in tubes in a hospital bed, I said I will love you still?  Mulder-coded. Fuck me ALL the way up.

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Redux II

🔷🔹The First Taste (Fiona Apple)🔹🔷

Girl. You could have HAD IT. You could have HAD IT ALL if your dumbass situationship hadn't FUCKING. PANICKED. IN. DETOUR. IN THIS ESSAY I WILL (I am forcibly dragged away)

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught But daddy long legs, I fear that I'm finally growing weary Of waiting to be consumed by you

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Detour

🔷🔹Why Can't I? (Liz Phair)🔹🔷

Here we go, we’re at the beginning We haven’t fucked yet but my head’s spinning

The way this song had a CHOKEHOLD on me as I devoured every bit of MSR fanfic I could find in the years following the OG finale. Yes, girl, you love him. Get yours.

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Tooms

🔷🔹When You Go Away (The Weepies)🔹🔷

I really didn't want to include any band/artist twice on this list... but every time I hear this song, I picture Mulder anxiously awaiting Scully's return from a weekend trip out of town. Or the office. Or the grocery store. Or the mailbox.

Take me with you this time, won't you, won't you? Don't make me miss you this time, don't you, don't you... We're so much better together, don't you think? I do...

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Chinga

🔷🔹You and Me on the Rock (Brandi Carlile)🔹🔷

Revival vibes for DAYS. They've done it all, they've seen it all, they don't need anything except each other. (Also: Brandi is a goddess, no notes.)

I'll build my house up on this rock, baby, every day with you There's nothin' in that town I need after everything we've been through Me out in my garden and you out on your walk is all the distance this poor girl can take without listening to you talk I don't need their money, baby, just you and me on the rock

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Babylon (HA. YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT. TWO CAN PLAY AT THIS GAME, GIRL)

🔷🔹Turning (Sea Caves)🔹🔷

Another revival song.  While there is SO much about this one that captures middle-aged MSR (my beloved,) this particular line is deliciously hopeful:

In time we saw we′d drifted far enough Turned to let it go and start anew

📺 Suggested Episode Pairing: Plus One

This list was SO much fun to put together - I hope you enjoy it! Shout out to @calimanc for helping me make sure the vibes were just right 😘

[fizzing-imagines]

Take Me To Church | Eddie Munson x Pastors Daughter! Reader

Notes: I have noticed that Christian girls are either incredibly sexualised or incredibly rude in most fics. So I'm here to feed you another version. Enjoy! 🤍

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: None, pure fluff!

Eddie never attended church. In fact, he avoided it like the plague. But there was one day a year he went: When Wayne made him go on Christmas Eve. He said it's "Part of Christmas, and the reason why you get a present in the first place.", so Eddie couldn't argue about that with his uncle. So he sat in the pew, surrounded by hundreds of strangers who all probably felt the same as Wayne. And the situation gave him a little laugh when he saw Gareth in the pew behind him, all dapper in a suit his mother made him wear.

He did have another feeling besides some fun; Adoration.

Eddie first saw you when you stood behind the podium to read the story of how Mary got pregnant and Jesus was born. You wore a white veil over half your hair, that just made your (Y/H/C) locks look even more beautiful. A small blush played on your cheeks, which made your (Y/E/C) eyes stand out more. For the first time, Eddie actually listened while sitting in church. He was so fascinated by your voice, he'd listen to you all day even if you were just reading from the Bible. And when you stepped down from the podium, your red, long skirt did a small bounce with every step you took. How has he never noticed you before? You must be around his age, and Hawkins High was the only school in town.

His eyes kept wandering over to you, watching how you sat next to the preacher with a woman that looked an awful lot like you. Is that your mother?

He heard your angelic voice again when you made the announcements at the end. Again, he listened closely to your beautiful voice, even if the information given didn't matter to him. He left church happy, for the very first time. And with actually knowing the story of Jesus for the first time in his life.

When everyone returned to school after the holidays, Eddie kept an eye out for you. It only took him until his third period to see you walking into his world class. How has he never noticed you before? Sure, you dressed pretty modest and not in a way that would draw attention. But your face. How could he never see your beautiful face? Now that you had your hair up in a ponytail, he could see your pretty features even better. And he knew it had to be you when he saw the gold cross charm hanging on your necklace.

He had to admit to himself that he had an immediate crush on a church girl. Out of all people.

But how would be talk to you? There is no way that you'd actually wanna hang out with him. But faith, or maybe even God himself, played into his hands that day when the teacher announced a partner project. She put teams together by drawing names from a bowl.

"Edward Munson and (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." You looked up in an attempt to find Edward. You've never heard his name before, but quickly saw him when he gave you a small wave. Once you two pushed your tables and chairs together, the teacher announced the assignment: a presentation about a historical figure from any country and time. That sounds fun!

Everyone in class started chatting, and so did you. "Do you have an idea?" Honestly, Edward looked a bit lost. "So, I was thinking maybe Amelia Earhart or Harriet Tubman. Unless you have any ideas, of course." You are so nice and chirpy, Eddie thought. How adorable.

"I know embarrassingly little about historical figures.", he admitted. But despite that confession, you still smiled. "That's okay, we all have our interests. I really enjoy reading about women in history, so I can give you some suggestion and we can choose together." How were you so kind? It amazed him.

You took your notebook out and wrote down a few names, then turned it to show him. With a lot of patients, you gave him a quick rundown of every woman in history you could report about. From Joan D'Arc, to Queen Elizabeth I, all the way to Anne Frank. He appreciated your patience, and getting to listen to your sweet voice was a nice bonus. In the end, the two of you agreed on Mary, Queen of Scots.

"I have a few books on her, maybe you can come over after school?", you suggested in a chirpy tone. How are you so nice? "Just, uhm...maybe see what you wear. I think it's up to you to wear what makes you happy, but my dad is a pastor, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." Eddie looked down at his Hellfire Shirt and the pins in his jean jacket. "I'll find something else, I think.", he said with a slight grin. How adorable was it that you warned him. "But he'll like your ring.", you said with a giggle while pointing at the thick, cross-with-skulls ring Eddie had on his pointer. "Oh yeah?", he said with laughter laced in his voice. "You like it, too?" You giggled at that. "I think I do." You leaned foward a bit. "Yeah, it's pretty!"

When he left class that day, he's never felt happier. He didn't know projects could actually be fun. You two agreed to meet the next evening at your house for the project and dinner. Eddie truly has never been more excited to eat at somebody elses home.

"Good evening.", he greeted the woman that opened the door. It was the same woman who sat next to you in church, so he figured that she was your mother. He didn't notice her pregnant belly last time, but now he did. "Good evening, you must be Eddie." Her voice was just as calming and relaxed as yours. Now he knew where you got it from. "Yeah, I'm here to do the project with (Y/N)." She nodded and hurried him inside before giving him a pair of single-use slippers.

"Honey, your friend is here!", your mother yelled upstairs. He heard some footsteps coming downstairs at a quick pace, then you stood before him. "Hey Eddie.", you chirped. "Dinner's ready in 30 minutes, show him around in the meantime.", your mother advised before walking back in the kitchen. You nodded and started showing him around. The living room was massive, and he was a bit confused once he saw 12 chairs at the large dining room table. It all made sense when he saw pictures upon pictures of your family hanging next to the stairs. "You have a lot of siblings.", Eddie commented while taking a look. Since this was a pretty normal reaction, you giggled a bit. "I have 11 siblings, and mum is having number 12 soon." He actually stopped in his tracks. In some way, he assumed there were a few uncles and aunts in the family pictures. Those were all your siblings?! And you saw his surprised face, so you took a picture down and sat on the stairs with him. It was one you took at your youngest brothers baptism last year. "So the baby is Isaiah. He's a bit over a year old right now." And that's how he learned all your siblings names, ages and that three of your eldest brothers and sisters stayed in Arkansas which he also now knew you were originally from. "Oh, I'm sorry, I tend to be a chatterbox. I didn't ask, do you have siblings?" He barely recovered from the infodumping, which made him fumble over his words a bit until he found then again. "No, I'm an only-child.", he mumbled while scratching his neck in embarrassment. "I live with my uncle." To you, that was fascinating. You never heard about that. "Is it nice?", you kept asking curiously. He huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, Wayne is cool.", he simply said. It didn't seem like he wanted to talk about his family much, so you let it be. "I'll show you my room!", you said excitedly while getting up. He was infatuated by how excited you were about everything. How can a person be this happy all the time? And why did it make him happy to simply be in your presence, aside from your beauty?

Your room was very prim and proper. What stood out were the multiple crosses in various sizes, styles and colours hanging above your bed. "You're very religious, aren't you?", he joked. "Can you tell?", you giggled. He had another look around and saw your overstuffed bookshelf. "That are the books I told you about." With ease, you pulled out three books. "We'll need those later.", you mumbled while putting them on your desk. "Oh, I'm assuming we'll do the project in the dining room because I can't have boys in my room for too long." He may have judged a bit with any other girl, but when you said it, it was adorable. When you looked over at him, there was this dreamy look on his face. Eddie looked...really cute like this. It made your stomach feel a bit tingly.

"Dinner's ready!", you two heard from downstairs. That snapped you out of your funny feeling, and you walked downstairs with Eddie. He could smell the food already, and honestly didn't know how hungry he was until that moment. And then, his stomach audibly grumbled once you two sat down next to each other. All of your siblings living in the house either came running along or were carried by another family member to be put in their high chair. He noticed that your father wasn't there, but he might just be caught up at work. Although he was still glad he picked an AD/DC shirt, since your mother was just as Christian.

Overall, it was unusual to Eddie, from the harmony going on to the sheer amount of people in this house. It really didn't look that big on the outside, where were all these rooms?

"We pray before we eat.", you whispered to him while taking his hand and that of your sibling sitting on your right. Even though it was just for praying, he loved holding your hand. And then it happened; his crush on you was settled.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about that day. You were so sweet to him, although you had every reason to be mean like the basketball guys. And now, whenever you walked into class, you gave him a wide smile. Except today, where you walked up to him. "Hey, do you wanna eat lunch together? My mum packed me some extra." He loved the food your mother cooked last time, how could he say no?

You two sat at a table, seperate from both your usual peer groups. "Some Mac n' Cheese and home-made bread with home-made butter.", you said with your signature smile while sliding the two plastic containers over to him. "Does she always cook from scratch?", he asked while opening the food. You nodded as you picked up a fork-full of mac n' cheese. "Pretty much. I don't really remember not seeing her do it herself, except when I got a new sibling. Then the oldest usually orders takeout, so our parents don't know." The way you giggled as this, like it was the worst thing you could think of doing behind your parents back, was adorable. You're so innocent and pure, the complete opposite of him. "So you get to order takeout with this baby?", he asked after swallowing a bite from the bread and butter. Again, you giggled and squealed a bit. "I do! I'm so excited!" Eddie couldn't help but laugh at your adorable antics. "I'm going to get pizza for everyone, I love pizza." Honestly, he'd get this excited over pizza, too. All this excitement made you a bit irrational - you've been thinking a lot about why being with Eddie made your stomach tingle. It just didn't make sense, what would make you feel so funny? "Do you maybe wanna come over for dinner again? Even without the project?"

"I would like that.", he replied. "Promise I put on my most Christian clothes." You looked down at the shirt he was wearing, which read 'Black Sabbath' in bold letters. "Yeah, my dad might think it's a bit...controversial.", you agreed. It still surprised him that it didn't bother you enough to a point where you'd eat lunch with him. "Maybe tomorrow? If that's fine with you."

It was more than fine with him. He may even had a little skip in his step when he walked up to your house the next night. It was a bit more chaotic this time, with some toys laying in the front yard. Your father opened the door for him this time, but he gave you just as much of an inviting smile as your mother did last time. "You must be Munson's kid.", he said while making space for him in the doorway. How did he know him? "I am, sir.", Eddie replied before stepping in. It didn't take long for him to hear squealing kids and laughter from every corner. "(Y/N) is in the living room, I assume you know the way."

The second he turned the corner, Eddie saw you with a child on your hip. You looked beautiful like this. "Hi Eddie!", you said in a happy tone. "Look Isaiah, Eddie's back!" Against his expectations, the toddler grinned when he saw him. "I'm glad you're here. Mum's not feeling well, so dad is making dinner tonight and I'm helping with the young ones. I hope you don't mind." He shook his head no before looking around and seeing all the toys laying around. "I don't mind kids.", he stated while you two sat down on the couch. At least he wanted to, until a loud "BAA!" came from underneath his butt. Eddie jumped up to see the stuffed lamb he accidentally sat down on. Both you and your brother giggled. "Sorry, that's Isaiahs.", you giggled while taking it away. Reluctantly, he sat back down on the couch while watching you tickle your brothers nose with the lamb. It was adorable to witness.

"What's with Christians and lambs?", he blurted out. He saw so many lambs in your house and whenever he drove by church. Especially during Easter time. But that question made you happy, you loved talking about your religion!

"John the Baptist called him the lamb of God, because he came down to die for our sins. Kinda like a sacrificial offering." Eddie didn't even know who John the Baptist was, but he was just happy to see you talk in such a chirpy tone. He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts my your siblings running downstairs while screaming.

"Hey, turn it down! Mum is sleeping!", you scolded the three kids. Even while telling them off, your voice remained soft. "I wanna see mommy!", the girl said with a pout. "I know Hannah, but she's exhausted from growing another baby.", you explained to her. She waddled over and sat down next to Eddie with a curious look. "You're back.", she said with big doe eyes looking up at him. "Why do you have hair like a girl? Do you wanna be a girl?" Her tiny hands reached out to touch his hair, but you leaned over to scold her again. "Hannah, we don't judge people. That makes God unhappy." Now he knew why you haven't judged him once. "We talked about this."

Hannah grumbled and crossed her arms before her chest before walking off with a huff.

"She's quite the character.", Eddie chuckled. Honestly, he loved getting to know your family better. There wasn't much chance for it last time. "I love her to pieces, but she's in an exhausting phase right now." At least Isaiah was contempt in your arms with his stuffed animal. "Makes me question if I actually want that many kids, honestly."

"Do you want that many?", Eddie asked, a bit shocked. You giggled at his surprised expression. "Not 13. Maybe 5 or 6." That was still a lot, although less than half of what your mother went through. "Do you wanna have kids?" He sighted and leaned back against the couch. "I don't know...maybe. I don't have much experience with babies." You bit the inside of your cheek while watching him. Why did his eyes show some sort of fear. "Here, hold him.", you said. Eddie couldn't even protest before you plopped your baby brother into his arms. "That's your experience, congratulations." Isaiah looked up at Eddie and cooed before leaning against his chest. It was adorable, honestly. "How does it feel?" Instinctively, he started stroking your little brothers head with one hand while the other one was on his back to avoid an accident. "You're witty.", he said with a grin. "It's not so bad."

"Even a Hannah has her good moments.", you said. "I'm not trying to convince you or anything, but I'm just saying that kids can be a blessing." Did you actually try not to convince him? Why was it so important to you that he wanted kids? And why did you feel so warm inside when you saw Eddie with your little brother?

While you were starring at the floor while stuck in your head, he got to see that beautiful expression on you. With your eyebrows a bit knitted and part of your tongue sticking out while thinking. Did you always do that? Did he just never notice before? How adorable.

"Dinner's ready!", your father yelled from the dining room. Eddie got up with you, brother in arm, and walked right behind you.

"That's not what I usually listen to.", Eddie said in a chuckled tone while looking through your vinyl collection. It mostly consisted of Keith Green, Petra and 2nd Chapter of Acts. "What do you listen to?", you asked curiously while standing behind him. From his shirts, you knew a bit but not everything. He turned around to face you, and accidentally very closely so. Did he always smell this good? Did you always look this cute?

"Oh, uhm...", he started stuttering. "Like, uh...Metallica, for example. Or Iron Maiden, and Aerosmith." You listened, and looked fascinated while doing so. Considering your family and what he saw in your music collection, this probably felt like discovering a whole new universe. "Can you show me some time?", you asked in a sing-song voice. He let out a small laugh and scratched his neck. "Sure, uhm...maybe after school tomorrow? I can drive you home if you want." You nodded in agreement. "That sounds lovely, Eddie."

You couldn't sleep that night. All that was running through your head was Eddie driving you home. Why did it feel so exciting? Why did he feel so exciting? No amount of tossing and turning, praying or reading your bible helped making you sleepy.

You groaned into your pillow and got up again to find anything to do. But your room was clean, you couldn't even concentrate on a simple prayer and you finished your homework.

The slippers helped with quieting your steps while sneaking downstairs. Maybe some warm milk and honey would help. Although your mother standing in the middle of the kitchen scared you a bit and made you yelp out. "I'm sorry, honey.", she quickly apologised. "Why are you up?"

"Why are you up?", you asked back. It wasn't until then that you saw the plate of leftovers on the kitchen counter. "Growing a baby makes a woman hungry at the oddest times, honey." You giggled a bit before walking to the fridge and getting out milk. "I can't sleep, my head won't stop thinking." She leaned against the kitchen counter with the plate in her hands. That was your mother - she knew something new was rattling in your brain. "Thinking about what? Or who?" She hit a bulls eye with the who. While putting a cup of milk in the microwave, you started telling her all about your thoughts. That ever since Eddie offered to drive you home, you couldn't stop thinking about him. How you noticed that he smelled nice, and you wanted to get to know more about him for no apparent reason. That you thought the curiosity you felt wasn't about that he lived much differently than you, but more about him as a person. Once you were done with your talking and finished your milk with honey, she couldn't help but chuckle.

"I felt that way about a boy too when I was your age.", she said with a half-full mouth of food. That made you peak up in interest. "What did you do?"

"I'm currently having his 13th baby."

Were you in love? It would explain why you didn't know this feeling yet. With being at church your entire childhood and having only girl-friends, it made sense. "It's called having a crush, honey. It was ought to happen to you, and it's nothing bad. It can be really nice, actually." It didn't feel much nice when you couldn't sleep, but it felt good when your stomach tingled. "Is it like love?", you asked curiously. Your mother chewed on her noddles while thinking. "Not necessarily. But it can turn into love." With a hum, you started drinking your milk and thinking about her words.

"I saw the way he looks at you, honey. Try to find a good moment to tell him. You might regret it if it's to late." She kissed you on your forehead and smiled. "Go to bed, pray about it, find your inner strength. You have a lot of it."

"I don't think dad would like him very much...in the long run.", you confessed. Eddie was not who your father wanted for you. If it all went according to him, you'd marry someone from your church, who would listen to Keith Green with you while doing puzzles. A nice Christian boy. But you doubted that Eddie was even baptised. "Let me handle your father. I know a few tricks."

"That's so loud!", you squeaked while Eddie drove out of the parking lot. Currently, Iron Maiden was booming out of his speaker as he drove you home. "A good loud?", he asked with a grin. It was adorable whenever you were excited. "Yes, a good loud!" You were practical bouncing in your seat to the music. "I didn't think I'd like that!" It hit every part in your brain just right to satisfy you. You knew you couldn't listen to this at home, and maybe the lyrics weren't exactly biblical, but it tingled in your brain just right.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you from the corner of his eye. Your bouncing, your giggling, the wide grin, yoir squealing. Everything about it was adorable. You were adorable. Who knew someone could look this adorable while listening to music about slaughtering humans?

"If you like this, you're really gonna like Metallica.", he said with a chuckle.

"It gets better?!"

Eventually, Eddie parked in your driveway and turned off the music. While picking up your bag from the foot well, you saw a magazine laying there. "What's that?", you asked. The first thing you saw was the word 'Satanic' in bold, red letters, then that it was a Newsweekly. You picked it up from the ground and skipped over the pages to find the article advertised on the cover. "Oh, that..." This might be the moment he fucks this all up. You enjoying being around him, your cute giggles and adorable grin. "We read it in our club...it's kinda..."

"Dungeons and Dragons?", you asked, bit confused. The article explained that it was a satanic game, made to infiltrate American kids and how it depicted satanic rituals, the devil, torture and murder. It took you a while, but you eventually put two and two together. "Is that what you do in your club?" There was some upset in your voice, but it was more of a sad one.

Is this really the person you had a crush on? This is what he spends his free time with?

"Well, yes.", he said while scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. "But it's really not as satanic, or whatever, as it sounds there." Eddie still saw your confused look and furrowed brows that read disappointment. You took a deep breath in and closed the magazine. "It just sounds...scary to me." He did understand that. You were shielded from most those things, at least that's what it sounded like from what you told him about your childhood.

"Maybe, if you want to, you can tag along to a game?", he suggested. Your head shot up at that, causing you to look at him like a deer in headlights. Eddie could see how unsure you were just by looking into your eyes. Naturally, it scared you. Once you read the wors 'Satanic', it was ought to scare you off. Your dad was a pastor, after all. Meanwhile, he also remembered what you told your younger sister: "We don't judge people, that makes God unhappy.". That wad basically what he held on to right now.

"Maybe you can change my mind.", you said with a small smile. After all, you had a crush on him. Why shouldn't he able to show you what he enjoyed? "I could tag along next time your club me-" You got cut off by your own words. How would you explain it to your parents? Should you...lie? But that's not allowed, isn't it?

Meanwhile, Eddie was confused by your sudden quietness. He understood what you were going for, but it didn't seem like you wanted to finish your sentence.

"I would like to have you at the next campaigns.", Eddie said with a small smile. You nodded quietly and finally grabbed your bag. "I'll ask if I can.", you mumbled. Honest to God, you were still unsure about this. "I'll tell you tomorrow, yeah?" A small smile played on Eddie's lips at your words. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Thanks for taking me. And showing me your music." Regardless of everything he just told you, you still smiled at him before leaving the van.

You did make a decision, and told a small lie to your parents. Or at least not the entire truth. They thought you stayed longer at school so you could see what Eddie's club was up to, but left out the details of the exact game. When they questioned you, you just told them they'd he playing a board game.

So there you were, sitting between Eddie and Gareth while watching what the group (or how Eddie said they call it, Party) was doing. The story went that they, or their characters, were in a town called Saltmarsh and had to find out the secret of an abandoned house. For the first 30 minutes, you quietly watched and listened. Until they all got on a boat and Eddie started talking about the monsters appearing. He set down a figurine on the board, but that one simply confused you. Especially with everyone else being upset by seeing it.

"Whats that?", you asked curiously with knitted brows. "That's a dragon turtle", Gareth said, like it was obvious to you. It was, in fact, not. "Dragon...turtle?" Does it spit underwater fire? Where are it's wings? "A really big turtle.", Eddie said, knowing it was the easiest way for you to understand. "Oooh.", you said quietly. Now you see it. Everyone around the table laughed, until Eddie said their ship was wrecked by said Dragonturtle. That's when the laughter died down, and rather quickly at that.

It got even worse when Sirens appeared. You only knew about mermaids, so the concept of Sirens confused you a bit. But you understood the idea rather quickly.

And unfortunately for Gareth, his character got lured in by them. "Why me?!", he yelled in an upset tone while looking absolutely lost. "That's what lust gets you.", you commented, which made Eddie burst out laughing. You didn't know that he had Gareths character be lured in because he was actually the biggest horndog of the entire group, which made your words even funnier.

For whatever reason, your questions and absent-minded comments made the entire campaigns funnier for everyone. It showed Eddie that you actually enjoyed DnD, even though he saw you clutching your cross necklace every one in a while. Later in the car, you were grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Someone had fun.", he said while buckling his seatbelt. "That was so much fun!", you squealed. "I could've watched even longer! That was not what I was expecting!"

Your expression was adorable. He could kiss your pretty face just from looking at you like this. "Maybe we can find a campaign you'd like.", he suggested. That made your face light up even more. "You'd do that for me?"

Eddie would do just about anything for you at this point. He had to face that his crush was growing into falling in love. How could he not?

"Sure, if you want.", he started the car and drove to your house. His plan was to make a campaign just for you and have everyone tag along, but you didn't need to know that yet.

You kept going on and on about how much fun you had, and that you didn't understand the article from Newsweekly. But your words abruptly stopped when you saw your dad's car missing in the driveway. "What's wrong?", Eddie asked you. You've seen this scenario many times before, at this point it could only mean one thing if both cars were gone by this time. Plus, you knew he didn't work late today. "Mom's having the baby.", you mumbled. He couldn't bring anything out but an "Oh."

"It's fine. I'll get in and see how the kids are." You smiled at him while opening the passenger door. "See you tomorrow! Thank you for today!"

But he didn't see you tomorrow. You didn't come to school, or the day after. Maybe something happened with your mother? Eddie decided to drive over to your place after his second period. When you opened the door, you looked beyond stressed. Hair in a messy ponytail, baggy clothes and worn-out slippers. "Oh thank God, Eddie.", you groaned in relief. "Can you help me, please?"

He came inside to see a mess in the living room. Toys scattered everywhere, snack packaging on the floor and crumbs on every surface humanly possible. Your two youngest brothers was quietly playing in his playpen, but that was the only thing that seemed to calm you. "What's going on?", he asked in a concerned tone. Your house was always clean, or at least only a bit lived-in, when he was over. Never like this. "I have to do this all by myself, I can't do it." You were so close to tears, holding them back barely worked. "It was so easy in Arkansas, we had my aunts and uncles to help." Instinctively, he pulled you into a hug. You didn't mind it at all, it was just what you needed right now. Some tears rolled down your cheek and into his shirt. Eddie felt the wet spot on his top, but he didn't mind. Not when you were so worn-out. "It's gonna be alright, I'll help you.", he promised while still holding onto you.

"Thank you.", you sniffled while whiping your eyes with the back of your hands.

While picking up some of the toys, you told him what you have to do today. "I have to pick up three of them from middle school, one from high school and three from elementary. Then, three of the girls have cheerleading and two of the boys have softball. Sara wants to go to the arcade with some friends as well, and...oh, I need groceries." Your hand ran over your hair. Eddie put the books in his hand back in the bookshelf and walked over to you. "You pick up the kids from elementary, I'll pick them up from middle- and highschool. But we still have some time, so let's clean and get groceries. Okay?" How was he so level-headed right now? To be fair, he hasn't been stuck like this for over a day. It was all growing over your head.

"I'll get the boys ready.", you said. "I'll help.", he replied. It wasn't an offer, it was a decision. Jonah was walking already and wandered into the hallway with Eddie, while you put Isaiah in his overall on the couch.

You four got the grocery shopping done in no time. There was honestly something about watching Eddie with your brothers in the cart, pushing them through the isles with you. You never understood what your friends meant when they said a boy did something attractive until that very moment. It stunned you, so much so that you were just kinda starring at him when he asked you what kind of milk you needed.

"(Y/N)?", he asked. Yet you kept starring. "You okay?"

"I have a crush on you.", you blurted out. While he looked at you with a lightly shocked face, you covered your mouth with your hand. "I-I...", you stuttered, not knowing how to come back from that. Eddie's expression went from shocked to soft, with a smile playing on his lips. "I have a crush on you, too.", he said. Butterflies were flying around in both your stomach, and there was some kind of electric tension between you two. Should you kiss him? Can you kiss him?

"Sissy, choco milk?", Jonah interrupted the moment. It made the two of you look over at him. His small, chubby arm was pointing at a bottle of chocolate milk. "You have to share, okay Jonah?", you said to him while putting it in the cart. "Can we talk about this again later?", Eddie asked you. Both of you were aware that the middle of a grocery store was possibly the worst time and place. "Sure.", you replied with a small smile. Since both of you liked each other, you were hoping for a good outcome. And so was he.

Once everyone was back home from their after-school activity, you put pizza as dinner on the table and did the dishes with Eddie, you both crashed on the couch. Jonah and Isaiah were playing on the floor while the others either went to do their homework or play together.

"Thank you, Eddie. Really, I wouldn't know what I would do without you." His hand found yours and squeezed it. "I'd do anything for you...because I like you a lot." It all circled back to that moment at the grocery store from earlier. Just him holding your hand made you wanna giggle. "So, when I like you too...should we be...a couple?", you stuttered. As he was about to reply, the phone rang.

"Biscuits.", you mumbled in a frustrated tone while getting up. It was your father calling from the hospital, telling you your mother had a little girl they named Bethel. Finally, another girl. "I'll be home tonight, your mother had a long labour and needs to rest." Of course she did, she'd been gone for almost two days. "Okay, I'll see you then...oh, dad?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I...kiss before marriage?" There was some silence on the other line before he cleared his throat and talked. "It's okay as long as it doesn't lead to...more. Why?" How would you explain that one.

"Just wondering.", you lied. You lied?! "Bye dad, love you. Tell mom we miss her."

Eddie's head peaked up when he saw you walking back around the corner. "What was it?", he asked. You sat back down next to him and got comfortable. "Dad called, mom had the baby. Her names Bethel." He smiled at that. "That's nice, (Y/N)." Neither of you could believe that your talk kept getting interrupted.

"I would like to be your boyfriend.", he finally said. A grin spread on your face and a squeal left your mouth. "I want you to be my boyfriend!" He laughed at your excitement while letting you jump into his arms. "I'm the happiest girlfriend ever!" One of his hands pet your upper back while the other stroked your hair.

Eddie couldn't remember the last time he was this happy.

"Honey, does it have to be Eddie?", your father asked. A few days after your mother came back from the hospital with baby Bethel, you decided to tell them. "It's already Eddie, dad.", you said confidently. Luckily, your mother was on your side. She liked him, she saw how happy you were and knew he helped out while they were gone. "I just really hoped you'd find a Christian man.", he explained. "It's gonna be hard for him to adjust."

"He selflessly helped her while we weren't here, he has the right values.", your mom spoke up. "She's happy. Remember how I was when we met?" Admittedly, you didn't know much about her youth. She barely talked about it. But it seemed like that argument made your father quiet down quickly. "He's on probation." was his final word before walking off.

"We won that one.", your mother said with a grin while giving you a fistbump.

You two had a beautiful couple of weeks so far. Eddie made a campaign about a crusade just for you, he introduced you to Wayne and even came to church with you once so far. He seriously thought just hanging out with him made you happy, but you wouldn't stop smiling and laughing after the service. How could you get even cuter?

Your father came around eventually. He told you to invite him as often as possible and started treating him like his own son. The moment Eddie held your sister Bethel for the first time was the moment you knew he was the one for you. You knew you wanted to see him like this, but with your own child.

Finally, you could convince your parents to let him sleep over. Of course they had conditions; no making out, leave the door open, no touching below the hips. It was understandable to you, Eddie needed a bit of time to understand. In the end, he was just happy to kiss and cuddle you all night. So after dinner, you two went upstairs to watch a movie in your room.

He spooned you while looking at the screen, on which E.T. played. Although neither of you really cared much about the movie when you finally got to be so close together for the very first time. Eddie couldn't stop playing with your hair, kissing your lips, holding you close. You're all he ever wanted. But with all this kissing and cuddling, you remember that you had to have a talk with him.

"Eddie.", you said in a hushed tone. His head peaked up from behind you in curiosity. "Hmm?", he mumbled. "I know you might expect some...things.", you started. "But I don't think I'd want that before marriage." Your boyfriend knew what you meant. "Are you sure?", he asked. Honestly, he was nervous about his first time with you. It wouldn't be the first time he had sex with someone, but this was different. This was you. The person he was set on spending the rest of his life with. Maybe having to wait for a while wasn't a bad decision. "I don't know.", you whispered that part, since your door was still open. "Probably. Very likely." His response was a kiss to the back of your head. Although he might bring it up again in a few months; he was glad he didn't have to be nervous about that for now. "That's okay, my little lamb.", he mumbled. "But we can still kiss, no?"

You rolled over to face him with a small smile on your lips. "We can kiss, we can cuddle, most things that don't involve...that."

"You mean sex?", he teased you with a grin. "Edward Munson!", you scolded him with a playful slap to his shoulder. "My parents can hear you.". Your boyfriend couldn't help but still giggle at your blushed face with that tone in your voice. "Sorry, honey.", he apologised while kissing your temple. "But it's cute when you get flustered."

"You said I get flustered at everything.", you giggled. His fingers ran over your waist, tickling you a bit in the process. "Because you do, my little lamb."

"I don't!", you argued back. His fingers dug into your waist, making you squeam and giggle. "Eddie!", you laughed out while he kept tickling you. "Eddie, you're mean!" Your boyfriend eventually stopped tickling you and pulled you back into a hug. "Yes you do, that alone made you flush."

"Because I was laughing.", you said with a small pout. It was adorable to look at. "Sure, honey.", he chuckled before kissing you again. "I love you."

You starred at him for a bit. This was the first time he said that to you; and it felt even better than you ever imagined. "I love you, too." One of his fingers stroked along your cheek while he smiled down at you and looked at your lips. "Good."

Your graduation passed, your one-year anniversary passed, and another one of your siblings was born. Was your mother ever done having kids?

A few days before Valentines day, Eddie came to visit your parents while you were at work in the church.

"What's going on?", your mother asked him while sitting down at the dinner table with him and your father.

"Well, me and (Y/N) have been together for a while now, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her." This wasn't the first time your parents had this kind of talk; it already happened with your older sisters husband a few years ago. "And I wanted to ask for your permission to propose to her."

Both of them started smiling at his words, your mother more than your father. "You have our permission to propose.", he said to Eddie. "But, we want her to marry in the church. You would have to get baptised for that. That's my only condition."

To Eddie, that sounded more than fair. He'd do anything to be with you for the rest of his life. "Alright, I'll get baptised before the wedding."

Three days later, the both of you were out on a date. Eddie was never one to take you to restaurants, but rather to fun places like aquariums or carnivals. That was more his setting, and you were okay with that. So for Valentines Day, he took you to an aquarium. Watching you mesmerised by the fishes, giggling while getting to pet a stingray and squealing when a shark swam over your head was about the most beautiful thing he could watch. Eddie was head over heels in love with you and never wanted that to change. So while you were watching a shoal of sweepers swim by, he took a small step back, pulled out the little velvet box and got down on one knee. "Eddie look, a clownfish!", you said excitedly while looking beside you. Why wasn't he there. With a bit of confusion, you turned to look for him, only to see him kneeling. "Eddie...", you whispered, close to tears.

Unfortunately, he couldn't find his words. His nerves got the best of him, and all he could so is look at you and open the box. You knew him well enough, and kneeled down to his level. "Yes, Eddie. I'll marry you.", you whispered, now crying. With a shaky hand, he placed the small diamond ring on your finger before kissing you. Both of you were so happy right now, so much so that you didn't notice that other visitors of the aquarium watched and started clapping.

This day was one of the best days of your life.

When you sat in the pew a few weeks later and got to watch Eddie being baptised by your father, that came close to the proposal. He was doing this for you. That's how special you were to him - all so he could marry you. So he could spend the rest of his life with you. It made your heart swell, and you were the first to clap once the water was sprinkled on his forehead.

Eddie loved you so much, you couldn't believe all he was doing just for you.

"Honey, before we order the dress, I gotta ask you." Your mother turned the corner of your parents living room, where you both were sitting to plan your wedding. Once you two were officially married, you'd move into a small apartment of your own to spend actual alone-time in.

"Do you want special underwear for your wedding? We can order it with the dress, it makes shipping cheaper." To you, that sounded good and you stood up to look through the catalog. But Eddie realized something in that very minute.

He meant to ask you about having sex before marriage a year ago. He never build up the courage because he was too nervous to do bad.

Eddie accidentally waited for you until marriage.

[thekatebridgerton]

Kanthony revenge regresion au

So hear me out @sea-owl just hear me out. What if we did a Kanthony regresion revenge au.

In which, Kate's first life was more or less not involved with Anthony and Edwina's courtship. She was just focused on getting Edwina married off and didn't care who she married.

Then Edwina bagged the Viscount Bridgerton and Kate thought this was the jackpot, BUT it turned out that Anthony made Edwina miserable for the rest of her life by neglecting her and doing exactly what he said he would do in the books, and having mistress after mistress while Edwina wilted away at home trying to be the Viscountess that the Bridgerton brood needed. And Kate who had to live the life of a spinster aunt/poor relation to Viscountess Edwina spent the rest of her life witnessing kind and gentle Edwina wilt under Anthony's tyranny to the point where Edwina starts having mental breakdowns over not being able to provide Anthony with an heir, with only Kate to console her.

In her first life, years pass, the Bridgertons don't pay attention to Kate, but she sees them destroy their chances at happiness one by one, and because Kate thinks they're all contributing to making Edwina miserable, she doesn't help them. She sees Colin lose Penelope to Debling, Francesca stay in mourning, without giving Michael a chance, Eloise live her life as a bitter spinster, Benedict go from mistress to mistress without knowing that his true love is actually a maid working for Viscountess Edwina. Kate sees Hyacinth and Gregory make mistake after mistake and end up in unhappy marriages themselves and she doesn't pity them or help them one bit. Because in her heart she blames them for Edwina's unhappiness and her eventual death at the hands of robbers during an ill fated trip to Aubrey Hall.

After Edwina dies, Kate blames Anthony and spends a considerable amount of time and resources looking for a way to get revenge and makes a shady deal with some mystical druids to send her back in time to Eloise's first season, so she prepares Edwina better.

In this second run at life, Kate is determined to keep Anthony Bridgerton from marrying Edwina, not only is she royally angry at him for being a jerk husband to her sister in their last life, she's determined to whip him AND his degenerate family into shape. Anthony running off to meet Sienna during Eloise's presentation, Kate will have none of that, he's going to take responsibility over his lunatic family even if it kills her!. Cue sending Eloise a death threat the day before her presentation, sending the house in a frenzy and forcing Anthony to be there. HA HA, lets see how Anthony likes having his nerves destroyed. On the other hand, he does end up being there when she's on her morning ride covering her tracks (for the death threat thing) and she may or may not have told him he's a deplorable human being, so there's that.

But Kate has bigger things to worry about than Anthony being intrigued over the fact she has her morning rides suspiciously close to his house. Someone needs to tell Eloise that the thing with the printer boy isn't going to work out, asap, and honestly, this is the kind of sloppy Lady Whistledown work that got Penelope caught red handed by Debling in the first place so, two birds one shot right?. Twart Eloise stupidity, make Lady Whistledown owe her a favor, and oh right, keep Anthony Bridgerton from dancing with Edwina at all costs during the first ball of the season. As you can see, Kate Sharma is a busy woman. And if she has to dance with Anthony herself to point out that Eloise is running wild right under his nose, well good! he deserves it, also, she's going to step on his feet for good measure.

What do you mean Anthony still wants to marry Edwina? why?? Kate is doing everything she possibly can to keep him busy and away from her sister, doesn't this man have 7 crazy siblings to manage? where does he find time to send flowers??, ugh time to up the ante and force Anthony into taking even more responsibility over his siblings mess ups.

Because by week 2 of the season, Kate has about had it with the Bridgertons! so fine if Edwina is fated to marry into that family of crazy people then Kate is going to have some words with them. Anthony can keep inviting the Sharmas into his house to dine at his table, but that doesn't mean that Kate has to be nice to them. especially the resident second son AND the third, because seriously no wonder they ended up making her sister cry on more than one occasion, for the sake of Edwina, Kate is going to make sure that Anthony's pack of idiots know what should and shouldn't be done to impress a lady with delicate feelings. Also someone get Francesca a box of tissues, Kate may or may not have given her a whole speech about standing up for herself and looking for love on her own terms.

Week 4 of the social season, the good news for Kate? Edwina is seriously considering the proposal of a Bavarian prince, the bad news? Anthony has ditched Sienna and cancelled his membership at the local whorehouse, this is bad news because he's now trying to marry Kate herself...And according to Lady Whistledown all his siblings think she's top candidate for the position of Anthony's Unhappy wife #1. Do these people have a masochist vein she doesn't know about?

Kate doesn't want to marry Anthony. He's an idiot who wouldn't know how to treat his wife with respect if it hit him in the head. Besides all she's done since regressing back in time is interfere with the Bridgerton's lives and call them out on their bad personality traits. And their bad choices.. And their bad relationships. In Kate's opinion that's not exactly the basis for a healthy family dynamic. (Viscountess Violet and Anthony's 6 clingy siblings beg to differ. )

But then again, Kate is getting to know Anthony in ways she never did in her first life, he's been opening up about his life and about the burden of his father's legacy and his hopes and dreams. Could it be that Kate misjudged Anthony all this time, maybe Anthony didn't know how to make Edwina happy in Kate's first life, it wasn't that he didn't want to love Edwina, he just couldn't. He didn't know how to be a husband anymore than Edwina knew how to be a wife. And things broke down before they even began. Maybe just maybe he would be a good husband for someone stubborn and cutting like Kate, in ways he would never be for someone like Edwina.

With Edwina marrying prince Friedrich and Kate's reason to come back in time finally fulfilled, Kate must make a choice, she can go with Edwina to Prussia, and once again live her life dedicated to her sister. Or she can stay in London and give Anthony and his clingy siblings a chance. A real chance.

AN: what do you think