#literally i cannot stop thinking about it or writing about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyukascampfire · 6 hours ago

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i am literally giggling over being called faerie princess. it sounds much better than freakishly obsessed faerie freak. i claim it fully. i know of course that this is your first dabbling into fantasy, but can i just say how beautifully you did it? there’s so much whimsy spun into the little magical and fantastical details, but the language used is also perfect. i think that’s a hallmark for writing fantasy, and you hit it… literally perfectly. no notes from this fantasy lover. in fact, i fear i need more fantasy from you. the little fantastical plants and aspects that you sprinkled in,, yes. i was js in heaven the whole time.

and, FAERIES? i mean?? you did so well with it, i think i need my own faerie soobin. now, preferably. i can’t explain how much his gentleness and personality rlly just struck down to my soul. him still speaking to her when she couldn’t even hear him? consider my heartstrings tugged. just beautiful. i also really loved how soobin was MC’s escape from the real world in a way, and still, her real world burdens & that taint of adulthood strained her belief in him. it was sweet how initially she believed, but then ‘real-world’ rationality had her doubting herself, even if it was all so visceral. just a beautiful portrayal of the detachment of fantasy from the real world!! this was so fun to see behind the scenes, and i knew even then that i had to be excited for it. you did this so incredibly well.

But when their hearts are weighed down, their aura overwhelms everything, blinding me to their true physical form. literally right off the bat, hp. i love this concept, that the presence of a human becomes shrouded when they’re gloomy or trialed.

Today, she rushes to the creek bed, crouches by the water, and her weeps and cries are the loudest I’ve ever heard. She’s shaking. — It twists and turns in search of something and when she leans toward the water, I summon a gold shimmer into the creek, dancing across the ripples as it catches the light. Her gasp breaks the silence, and for the first time, I hear her voice, distant and fragile. first of all, this is so pretty, and second of all him tryna distract her :((

And I hear a giggle. A giggle! It’s gorgeous. Like the first notes of my favorite song. I KNOW WE’RE LITERALLY STILL @ THE BEGINNING BUT THIS IS SO CUTE. i’m on my knees gripping my hair like i’ve gone mad. js smth about ‘a giggle!’ like. stop.

oh no she ran away. pls come back 😞 him being panicky. i love faerie soobin immediately.

i’m strange and all that but i love a good picking berries moment. it’s so foresty and faerie hehe Regret gnaws at me as I pick a bit of a raspberry from under my nail from when I was harvesting them earlier.

A human. Not the one I’ve been waiting for, but they catch my eye—curvy and stunning and flipping through a book. — Her body curves and moves gloriously and she looks irresistibly soft and…sexy. And I don’t use that word often. I want to hold her, touch her, squeeze her, make her feel something, but she can’t even see me. U DID THIS FOR ME!! i knew it was chubby reader but i’m here to say it again. THANK U HP. and his yearning to touch her. i love yearning in the romantic sense, but there’s also smth about a yearning for intimacy for me. especially like this, since they literally cannot touch each other. love.

Most other faeries I know do hate humans, I suppose. I’m not sure why, though—they’re so sweet and cute. Us faeries tend to have a superiority complex. But that doesn’t mean we all have it out for the entirety of the human race. faerie geek in me loving this

“Why can’t I see you?” She asks, sadness laced in her voice. this line got me, it’s so simple, but made powerful by the knowledge that MC is struggling in the human world & finds respite here, communicating in foreign ways with a creature she can’t even see.

Each one has a delicate pearly white cap with faint iridescent streaks that catch the light like oil on water. The ring itself isn’t perfect; they grow unevenly, edges blending with soft moss and fallen leaves. this is just pretty, and beautiful turn of sentence. god i love your writing

Her gasp breaks the quiet as her eyes fly open, and for the first time, she sees me. cries. it’s here. this is such a unique and stunning concept. it’s not often that in writing romance that you’ll have to write the first time the two lovers *see* each other, despite having already slightly fallen for each other already. this moment was so sweet.

“Hi,” she breathes. “Where are your wings?” That’s an unexpected first question. Smiling, I unfold them, letting them catch the sunlight. Iridescent hues of pink and purple shimmer like liquid light. The intricate patterns etched into the delicate surface that scatter rainbows onto the ground below. OOOOH HP I FEAR THAT YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN. not only is wings just fun, but youve painted such a beautiful and whimsical picture with it, too. i quite honestly am just having a field day

Her favorite flower is a poinsettia because her mother used to line the front porch with them during a winter holiday called Christmas. fucking love poinsettias & was so happy when i learned that they actually ARENT poisonous

She hates how loud her laugh is, though it's my favorite sound. sobs. She worries about being too much and not enough all at once. sobs again

“It’s real,” I say softly. “Maybe not in the way we want it to be—but real enough to feel.” love this. it’s an aspect of the nature of them, but still, they love. </3

The moment her skin touches mine, a spark—soft, warm, and undeniable—flares between us. She gasps, jerking her hand back as though it's been burned. THE FIRST TOUCHHHH MY BELLY JUST FLIPPED

Our lips fall into one another and move over each other so beautifully—it beats out rainbows and peonies, the sound of water falling, the smell of peppermint leaves. It’s a paradox, making everything else feel insignificant yet illuminating the meaning of it all in the same breath. this is a fucking beautiful paragraph. i kiss the ground you walk on.

The veil lanterns must’ve loosened her lips. LMAOOO this is literslly in the middle of an intimate and beautiful smut scene but i had to say that i’m not over how cool the veil lanterns are. the name is sick

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you.” how did you know that beautiful is my achilles heel word

She pulls it off herself, although I think I’m supposed to be the one that does that. Next time. SO YOURE SAYING THWRES A NEXT TIIIIME

“We call them life lace.” oh hell yeah. that is so pretty. ily hp

“Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” I say. “We don’t have much time.” fucking dies

Why didn’t I prepare for clean-up? i’m literally in lovw wirh him and nobody will take me away from me and my sweetheart faerie soobin

“Then look at me,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Look at me until you can’t anymore.” JFC THESE BANGER LINES i am hanging on by a very very fine thread

“Don’t go,” she whispers, her voice breaking. PLEAAAAASE LORD HAVE MERCY DONT DO THIS TO ME

feeling a little hollow omfg, i NEED them to be together forever no matter the extenuating circumstances, but that’s not really reality, is it?? sigh. my heart.

anyway, i THOROUGHLY loved this, and honestly just thank you for writing it. your writing is beautiful, and you did this SO much justice. ugh.

look at me — faerie!soobin x fem!human!reader

cw. soobin is a human-sized faerie with wings, chubby!reader has braces but that's rarely mentioned, reader has anxiety, reader needs to be high on shrooms to see/hear/touch soobin (it'll make sense i swear! ((dear god i hope it makes sense at least))), kissing, penetration (protection not mentioned), cunnilingus, nipple stuff, "baby," angsty ending, let me know if i missed anything. note. like i said, reader has to be high on shrooms to see, hear, and touch soobin, so technically they're both on drugs when they have sex, so caution if that makes you uncomfy. and oh surprise, surprise! very self indulgent. AND omg- shout out to the talented @hyukascampfire for brainstorming with me when i was first thinking about this and along the way as well. i've never written anything remotely fantasy so this is new territory for me and i'm super nervous for y'all to read it, especially faerie princess ashlynn. but i hope y'all love it <3 wc. 7.2K

There she is again. Not many humans venture this far out into the woods, but I recognize her every time. Well, I recognize her aura. Typically, humans appear in a dream-like haze—I can make out what they look like and even hear what they’re saying. But when their hearts are weighed down, their aura overwhelms everything, blinding me to their true physical form.

My friends tease me for being so fascinated with humans, but I can’t help it. They’re delightful in their peculiar ways—bringing their lovers and friends for little celebrations, visiting us with their sweet treats and elixirs. They’re so distracted with joy, they hardly notice when we take some for ourselves.

This human is different, though. She’s always alone, shrouded in a deep, stormy grey cloud that darkens every time she returns. For a moment, her aura softens as she rests at the edge of the creek, taking deep breaths while the storm eases into a fragile calm. But it never lasts. Within a week, she returns and the weight she carries seems heavier than before.

Today, she rushes to the creek bed, crouches by the water, and her weeps and cries are the loudest I’ve ever heard. She’s shaking. I creep closer, hoping to make anything out of her cloud, but nothing. Taking a seat on the moss on the other side of the creek, I simply watch her. Her cries crescendo into a gut-wrenching wail and I can’t take it anymore.

I toss a small pebble into the creek, watching as orange flickers throughout her cloud—fear. After another, it turns a muddy blue—curious. It twists and turns in search of something and when she leans toward the water, I summon a gold shimmer into the creek, dancing across the ripples as it catches the light. Her gasp breaks the silence, and for the first time, I hear her voice, distant and fragile.

“Oh my god.”

A grin tugs at my lips. Her cloud has kept her hidden from me all this time, but I just know she’s absolutely adorable. A small pebble shoots out from her direction, falling into the water and I guide it to land right on top of the other two. When she tosses another in, I pause the current entirely, letting the surface hold still. Then, with a flick of my fingers, I release it with a bloop. And I hear a giggle. A giggle! It’s gorgeous. Like the first notes of my favorite song.

“Hello?” She asks and I conjure a ripple in response. “Is someone there?” In the center of the creek, I create a circle of stillness, the current bending around it at my command. Inside it, I make it change color in an attempt to communicate with her. I add the gold shimmer back, trying to tell her—to scream at her—Yes! Yes, I’m here! I’m right here. But her cloud flares orange—panic—and she stumbles back. In a heartbeat, she’s gone, running away from our dell.

Oh no. Shoving the heels of my hands into my eye sockets out of frustration, I shake my head. Oh no.

It’s been weeks. Every day, I return to watch the humans, hoping my favorite may return. Perhaps it was overwhelming for her—turning water gold that quickly. Regret gnaws at me as I pick a bit of a raspberry from under my nail from when I was harvesting them earlier. A rustle in the distance snaps me to attention, followed by the solid thud of something hitting the mossy ground.

A human. Not the one I’ve been waiting for, but they catch my eye—curvy and stunning and flipping through a book. After a moment, they put it aside, sitting criss-cross on the creekbank, bending toward the water.

“Hello?” She asks. Wait. I know that voice. I only heard it for a moment, but I’ve been dreaming about it so much recently, I’d recognize it anywhere now. She’s back! And I can see her!

And she’s so incredibly beautiful, I can’t help but stare. I stumble toward the creek bed and she speaks again, “Hello?” I respond with a water ripple.

“Hello, I’m here.” Speaking is useless, but I whisper under my breath anyway.

“Are you the same…thing I was talking to a few weeks ago?” The water slowly turns a gold shimmer and she grins. “Can I ask you some questions?” The gold gets stronger. “Gold means yes?” The shimmer holds steady. “Am I speaking with the water?” I make it turn a deep, murky teal. “Does that mean no?” Gold. “A witch?” Teal. “A ghost?” Teal again. “An angel?” Teal. “A faerie?”

Gold shimmer. I whisper, “Yes, yes,” proud of her for getting it.

“A faerie?” She asks excitedly and I celebrate with her in the form of a water ripple. “Oh wow,” she whispers. “So you can hear me?” Gold. “Can you see me?” Ah, what do I do now? I can’t quite see her yet, but I definitely can see more of her than she can of me.

“Grey?” She’s silent for a moment, humming as she tries to understand. “You don’t know if you can see me?” Teal. “You can kinda see me?” Gold. “I can’t see you at all,” she mumbles. She looks up again, unsure where to look. “Did you know that?” It stays gold while she chuckles to herself. The sound of it is intoxicating—like the sound of leaves rustling in the wind or a bird chirping. It warms me from the inside out.

“Where are you?” She asks. The current splits into two, flowing against each other and converging in a point aimed directly at me. As she follows the arrow with her eyes to look at me, her cloud clears fully and I can finally see her. For real this time. There’s still that angelic glow that won’t go away until the Veils have been lifted but I’m not so sure I’d want it to go away anyway. She’s absolutely, positively stunning. My breath is taken away. Her smile reaches her eyes and there’s something in her mouth—something I’ve never seen before, shiny and on every tooth.

Her body curves and moves gloriously and she looks irresistibly soft and…sexy. And I don’t use that word often. I want to hold her, touch her, squeeze her, make her feel something, but she can’t even see me. Even if I tried, my touch would be nothing but the whisper of a ghost.

Glancing down, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. She asks, “What does pink mean?” I shake my head to rid my thoughts of her and the water returns to its natural, clear, blue state.

There’s a beat of silence. She awkwardly speaks up, “So, a faerie, huh?” Slowly, the calm pool turns gold again. “I’ve got some books about the Fae.” Bubbles rise in curiosity. “Are you a human-sized faerie?” Gold.

“I think I may be a bit taller than you, though…” I whisper. I’m taller than most everyone in my village, so I can only assume I’m taller than her as well.

“A lot of these books say you all hate humans,” she says matter-of-factly.

The water turns a deep, angry red. “That’s a misconception!” I say with a grumpy giggle. Although, she’s not totally wrong. Most other faeries I know do hate humans, I suppose. I’m not sure why, though—they’re so sweet and cute. Us faeries tend to have a superiority complex. But that doesn’t mean we all have it out for the entirety of the human race.

“Oh,” she says, holding her hands up. “Sorry.” I forgot she can’t hear me, so the water calms itself. “Do you hate humans?” I can’t make it teal fast enough.

We spend hours in our woodland dell together—she watches as I make the water change colors, as I make flowers bloom in patterns, and as I talk with rabbits, asking them to bring me back berries and nuts. The way her eyes light up when I make the peonies bloom makes me feel like nothing else matters. I’d sit here for hours, building and blooming the garden of her dreams if I could—just to make her happy.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asks, sitting next to me on the creekbank now that we’re on the same side. The water constantly follows me to show her my location.

“Of course,” I respond under my breath, hoping something might leak through into her realm.

“Coming out here and talking to you…” she sighs. “Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.” She chuckles. “Like, what would someone think if they saw me giggling at the water?” I wish I could shatter the wall blocking her realm from mine, dissolving any of that hesitancy and uncertainty. “But it makes me feel sane. It’s the only time I feel like my world isn’t falling apart.”

She’s told me all about her world—a stressful job, family problems, and constant crippling anxiety. I can’t imagine living in a world like hers. Humans fascinate me, yes, but I avoid the world they’ve created at all costs—booming cities absent from flora and fauna, no magic, lifeless but overwhelming at the same time.

“That’s a new one,” she says, glancing down at the water. When she looks back up, guessing where my eyes are, she asks, “What does silver mean?”

“I’m sad,” I whisper. Almost at the exact same time, like we’re connected at the heart, we say,

“I wish you could hear me.”“I wish I could hear you.”

As she fiddles with the green moss under her legs the water slowly turns a gold shimmer. I want that too. I want to talk to her, to feel her, hug her, kiss her. I want to be hers, to protect her from all that pain in her world. But my heart drops, the water steadily turning a sad silver again. I could never be that for her.

“Why can’t I see you?” She asks, sadness laced in her voice. I conjure a gentle wind, making one of her books fly open, flipping to a page titled, The Fae and Humans: Perception and Interaction. Her head snaps toward the sound, curiosity pulling her closer. Slowly, she crouches and reads aloud, “There is an intricate balance of aural, visibility, touch, and the altered states required to bridge the divide between the Fae and human realms. Understanding the two key thresholds—The Veil of Sight and Sound and the Veil of Touch—are crucial when communicating with the Fae.

“The Veil of Sight and Sound: Faeries exist on a frequency of reality imperceptible to humans. Under normal conditions, human vision and hearing cannot penetrate this Veil; however, certain factors can alter a human's perceptual capabilities. Mild intoxication induced by substances can create a temporary overlap between the human and faerie realms. In this state, humans can see and hear faeries in their true forms.

“The Veil of Touch: Even when humans achieve the rare ability to see and hear faeries, the Veil of Touch presents a further barrier. While perception might align momentarily, the physical matter of faeries and humans does not naturally interact. For touch to occur, a human must enter a deeper altered state—one that further detaches them from their own plane.”

Taking everything in, her lips barely move when she whispers, “Intoxication?” The water points toward a ring of mushrooms nestled at the edge of the creek. Each one has a delicate pearly white cap with faint iridescent streaks that catch the light like oil on water. The ring itself isn’t perfect; they grow unevenly, edges blending with soft moss and fallen leaves. They look relatively ordinary, but those iridescent streaks tell me they’re undeniably veil lanterns, a substance that lifts both veils for humans. Moving closer to the ring of mushrooms, she asks, “If I eat one of these, I’ll be able to see and hear you?” Gold shimmer. “How does it make me feel?”

How do I put this? I make the water swirl in on itself in different directions while it turns different shades of blue and green. It spirals upward into a sphere that hovers for a moment before gracefully falling back to the creek.

“Like I’m floating?” She asks curiously. Gold shimmer. She looks back at the mushrooms, her expression torn between hope and hesitation. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” she says softly, but her hand doesn’t move closer. Eventually, though, she plucks one out of the ground, holding it between her pointer finger and thumb, twirling it between her fingers. “Just one?”

“Just one,” I whisper under my breath as the water turns gold. Popping it in her mouth, I watch the soft aura that still surrounds her physical form turn a pretty relaxed yellow over the course of a few minutes. She talks to me as she lets the mushroom settle in—asking how long it’ll take or what happens if it doesn’t work.

“What if I’ve been making all this up in my head?” She chuckles to herself. “And I’ve been talking to a creek this whole time? How embarrassing would that be?” She rubs her hands over her face, groaning. “I can’t believe this,” she grumbles, curling into herself, her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she closes her eyes and mutters, “Thinking a creek is talking to me…”

“That does sound a little silly,” I say, my voice light with amusement.

Her gasp breaks the quiet as her eyes fly open, and for the first time, she sees me. The realization washes over her in waves—hesitation, awe, and then a dawning understanding.

“Hello,” I say softly, letting her take me in, her eyes tracing over my entire body.

“Wow…” she whispers in disbelief. She reaches out slowly, her fingertips trembling as they near me. But her hand passes straight through, our realms still worlds apart. Confusion clouds her face and her glassy eyes blink with disappointment.

I shake my head and remind her, “The Veil of Touch, remember?”

“Oh, I need to have another mushroom?” I nod. She hurriedly reaches for one.

“Wait.” She halts and looks up at me. “You should take it easy with those. Let’s just talk. I’ve been dying for you to hear my voice.”

“That’s true.” She looks over at the water, then glances back up at me. “You’re so…pretty,” she says. “What’s your name?”

“Soobin.” Then she tells me her name. “We can have conversations much easier now, huh?” I smile.

With the Veil lifted, we spend the hour learning all we can about each other—her favorite color isn’t just yellow, it’s turmeric. She loves how it looks when she puts a teaspoon of it in her rice cooker and it spreads throughout the water. Her favorite flower is a poinsettia because her mother used to line the front porch with them during a winter holiday called Christmas. Those things on her teeth are called braces and they’re supposed to help her teeth somehow. She hates celery and loves broccoli, especially if they’re roasted in an oven. That scar on her cheek is from learning something called skateboarding. She loves the rain but is terrified of thunder. She hates how loud her laugh is, though it's my favorite sound.

She worries about being too much and not enough all at once.

As we talk, I can’t tell how much time we have left. I can tell I’m fading from her view but she never fades from mine. Her laughter grows quieter, her giggles becoming rare until they’re gone altogether. Her high is wearing off, and with it, the fragile connection we share. I can feel her pulling back, closing herself off again, like the gentle drift of someone falling asleep without realizing it.

Her eyes stay on me, intense and unblinking, memorizing every detail of my face to hold onto me for just a moment longer. Then I see it, the shift in her expression. Realization dawns like a shadow passing over her, her gaze losing focus.

“I can’t see you anymore,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with resignation. She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You’re gone again.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” I ask, my voice soft but steady. Over the years, I’ve forged fragile connections with humans, always careful never to push too hard. Yet no matter how gentle I am, the same thing happens—they see too much, fear too much, and never return. And I don’t blame them. It’s utterly overwhelming. There’s no denying that.

But she’s been visiting me for months and I’ve never been this close to anyone. With her, the world feels sharper, more vivid. Every time she speaks, her words resonate with something deep inside me, as if they echo through places I’ve forgotten even existed.

She occupies my every waking moment. I’ve started to feel her even when she’s not here—her absence pressing against me like a quiet storm, a warmth that lingers in the air long after she’s gone. Her voice echoes in my mind when it’s silent. Every time our eyes meet, there’s that spark, that electric connection that tells me we’re on the cusp of something extraordinary.

We’ve talked about taking the next step so many times now. But it’s a huge step. It’s about stepping into a new reality, about making something impossible real.

She nods, her eyes bright with determination. “I’m sure.”

She picks up the mushroom, turning it over in her hands as though its surface might help her validate her decision. Then, with a shaky breath, she sets it back down, her resolve wavering. “What if this isn’t real?” she whispers, her gaze fixed on her trembling fingers. “What if I’ve just been…hallucinating all of this?”

“You’re not hallucinating,” I say gently.

She hugs her knees to her chest, biting her lip. “But what if I am? And if I eat another one, I just sink deeper into this… dream? Or illusion? Or whatever this is.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I assure her, leaning closer.

She lifts her head slightly, her expression torn. “But if I need these just to talk to you…” Her voice falters. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll always be dependent on them?”

I meet her gaze, steady and unwavering. “You’re already talking to me,” I say. “You don’t need another one to keep doing that.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, silence hangs between us. Then she speaks again, “But I can’t touch you.” Her eyes glisten, her vulnerability shining through. “And I want to.”

Something in me stirs—sharp and undeniable. My chest tightens, my voice trembling, “I want that too.”

She sighs my name, and it feels like the world is tilting. Her cheeks flush as she hesitates. “I want to…maybe it’s the mushroom talking,” she says quickly, her words tumbling out, “but I want you. I want you to kiss me and hold me and make me feel—”

“I want all of that too,” I interrupt, my voice low and earnest. “But only if you’re ready.”

Her shoulders sag slightly, her head tilting as she stares at the ground. “But it’ll never be truly real, though, will it?”

“It’s real,” I say softly. “Maybe not in the way we want it to be—but real enough to feel.” Nodding, she takes several seconds to think, picking at the green moss as a distraction. “What if I ate one too?”

“Would it even affect you?”

I nod and add, “It gives me a high, but nothing…magical happens.” We both agree to eat one, giggling and talking while we let them both set in.

“I’m not feeling much different, to be honest,” she says, her voice faltering. “I’m starting to think none of this is real. I’m just… seeing you, but you’re not really there.” Her hand lifts, a trembling finger reaching toward my cheek.

Then it happens.

The moment her skin touches mine, a spark—soft, warm, and undeniable—flares between us. She gasps, jerking her hand back as though it's been burned. But before the space between us can grow too wide, she reaches out again, her palm settling against my cheek, her thumb brushing over the curve with a tentative tenderness.

Her touch anchors me, and for a moment, I can’t speak.

“…Soobin,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re there. You’re really there.”

“I know,” I say, chuckling. “I’m really here. Watch this.” I reach out, dragging my fingertips over her forearm. She gasps again, yanking her hand back. “Are you okay?” I ask, concern flickering in my voice. She nods, slowly and deliberately moving her hand forward. Then, she runs her fingers through my hair and glides them down my shoulder and arm, leaving a shiver in their wake.

“Can I…your wings?” she asks, her voice filled with awe. I let them unfold just enough for her to see. Her breath hitches as she reaches out, the tip of her pointer finger brushing against the delicate edge of one wing. It flutters instinctively at her touch, responding to her presence, which spooks her a bit.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, watching her hand.

Encouraged and confident, she places her hand fully on top of my wing, her fingers tracing its intricate patterns as though committing every curve and shimmer to memory.

“Wow…that’s unreal,” she says. “I mean, it’s real, but doesn’t seem like it should be.” She inches closer, the space between us dissolving until our knees barely touch. Her fingers run down my arm lightly before picking up my hand, examining it closely, her thumb tracing the lines of my palm, the curve of my fingers. Then, I mirror her actions, taking her hand in mine. It’s warm, human, and yet so fragile under my touch.

Her hand travels upward to trace my features with her thumb. She lingers over the arch of my eyebrow, down the bridge of my nose, along the edge of my jaw. When she reaches my lips, her thumb pauses, grazing over the softness of my bottom lip. A breath escapes me, unbidden, and her touch slows, her thumb resting there for just a moment longer before she withdraws, her hand trembling slightly as it falls back into her lap.

I respond, my thumb swiping across her bottom lip and I tug her closer by her jaw until I can feel her breath on my chin.

“Can I kiss you?” I whisper.

She nods.

It deepens and I hover over her, her legs coming out from under her while I guide her to lay down on the mossy patch, our lips never parting. Her lips feel so magical and soft and we only stop when she needs to come up for air. We smile at each other, our eyes sharing the same redness and glassy daze. I know exactly what I want to happen next, but I’m not so sure she’s ready for all that. I look at her, taking in all her beauty.

“You’re gorgeous,” I tell her.

“So are you,” she slurs. She reaches for my hand that’s already resting on her hip and moves it up to her chest, encouraging me to feel all of her.

I whisper her name and ask, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Please.” My lips crash into hers again and our hands are all over each other, on each other’s bodies, in each other’s hair, squeezing and squishing and feeling and rubbing. She breaks the kiss, “Have you ever done this before? You know, with a human?”

“Not with a human,” I chuckle. “But all the anatomy’s the same.”

“That’s good,” she giggles, grabbing my hair to kiss me again, but she’s quick to pull back. “Go slow, okay?” I nod. With a snap of my fingers, flowers swirl together, carried by a gentle breeze, forming a soft pillow for her to rest her head on. “Ah, thank you. I forgot you can do stuff like that.” Lifting the skirt of her dress up, I slowly move it past her thighs and she asks with a trembling voice, “Will people see us?”

I shake my head, telling her, “I cast a shadow cloak around us. No one can see us. Not even the other fae.” A look of relief and content falls across her face. “Can I…?” I ask, lifting her dress more. She nods. With each passing inch, my heart thumps as I drag my fingertips over her legs. Lifting it over her head, she’s laying under me, mostly bare. She’s still wearing two tiny pieces of fabric that cover her chest and bottom.

“I wore these for you,” she says, her voice soft and tinged with a shyness she can’t quite hide. The veil lanterns must’ve loosened her lips.

“You did?” My hands explore her curves, reverent and curious, tracing every inch of her body. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thank you.” Her skin is soft and inviting under my lips, and I scatter kisses lower, her body responding perfectly with mine. But then, I can’t hide my fascination any longer. I pause, my thumb brushing over the delicate pink fabric that’s still on her body. How do I put this? Ah, let’s just be candid. “What is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“These,” I say, running my fingers along the straps and edges of the fabric. “I’ve never seen clothes like this before.”

“Oh,” she giggles, tugging gently at one of the straps. “This is a bra. And these,” she gestures to the sides of the fabric on her hips, “are panties.” I hum thoughtfully, studying her with an amused tilt of my head.

“We don’t wear things like this. What’s the point of them?”

Her lips curve into a playful smile. “Look at me.” And I do. She’s delicious. “That’s the point.”

I smirk, my gaze lingering on her. “Am I—are you—supposed to take them off?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice catching just slightly, her flush deepening. My fingers brush over the fabric again, savoring the contrast between it and her skin. “Do you not like them?” she asks, her tone almost teasing.

“No, I do,” I reply, my voice dipping lower. “I have a feeling I’ll like your body even more.” I start to try and pull them off, but—

“Not yet,” she sighs. “Come here.” I sit up and she follows, her hand drifting to my top button. Slowly, she unfastens it, the slinky pink velvet slipping through her fingers with each deliberate motion. Once she pushes my shirt past my shoulders, I tug at the cuffs to free my arms. Her gaze stays locked on me as I fold my wings down, the delicate motion allowing me to slip the shirt off completely.

Extending her arm out, the tip of her middle finger barely touches my chest before she jerks her hand back, still not believing I’m tangible. Then she lets her hand fully press my body, dragging down to my waist. I remember how much my wings fascinate her, so I unfold them for her and she gasps.

Leaning closer, our lips fall into each other and I guide her to lay down again just the same as before. My thumb drags across the apple of her cheek, trailed by my pointer finger down column of her neck, following a line between her breasts, down to squeeze her waist. Holding her bra strap between my pointer and middle finger, I slowly pull it down, leaving kisses along the way and hoping I’m doing this whole bra-and-panties thing correctly. Then I do the same with the other side, watching as she effortlessly reaches behind her, making something snap so it falls off her chest, hanging loosely. She pulls it off herself, although I think I’m supposed to be the one that does that. Next time.

Looking down at her bare chest, I can’t help but feel giddy. The way her chest curves on itself, creating a gorgeous shape I desperately need to feel.

“I love these,” I say, kissing the side of her breast. She hums in question. And I nudge the marks on her skin with the tip of my nose. “These,” I say.

Her gaze follows mine as she glances down and asks, “Oh, my stretch marks?”

“We call them life lace.”

Her expression softens, her eyes meeting mine. “Life lace,” she repeats quietly, as if testing the words, a touch of wonder in her voice. I search and scour for every bit I can find—the most of it on her tummy, hips, and thighs. She’s still got that last bit of clothing around her hips she hasn’t taken off yet. That final barrier between us. We’ve knocked every other barrier down but something about this last one feels utterly real in a way the others didn’t.

Wrapping my hands around her thighs, I pull her gently so her legs wrap around my ears gently, shoving my face into her center over that last bit of clothing, inhaling. I’ve never been this close to a human before. She smells so different from the fae I’ve been with. She’s intoxicating and delightful—my mouth waters at how delicious she smells.

“I take this off, too?” I nudge at her entrance, earning a jolt. I must’ve nudged something sensitive. She nods eagerly, helping me take them off her.

“You too,” she reminds me and I shuffle to get rid of the rest of my clothes. Looking down at her, she’s giddy and completely entranced, which twinges my heart. It’s just the veil lanterns, the cynical part of me reminds myself. Her legs are casually spread open, giving me a full display of her glistening pussy. I skate my hands up her legs, feeling her ground herself in the feeling of my hands.

Teasing her entrance with my thumb, she’s hot and wet as she flutters around nothing, waiting for anything from me. I gather just enough of her wetness to make my pointer finger slick and tap her clit, making her flinch. Then, I rub the slowest, lightest circles over the nub and she lets out a ragged sigh. Her tightened muscles relax as she allows herself to feel every move I’m making, letting her head gently fall to the pillow of flowers.

Once she’s practically dripping, I slide my two middle fingers inside her, curling them to tease the most sensitive bit with the pads of them. Bending, I flick my pointed tongue against her clit, eliciting a whine while she desperately reaches for my hair. I’ve never tasted a human either, I realize. I’m not sure anything will ever be as delicious as her again.

“Oh my god,” she whimpers. Every sound she makes is gorgeous but I can’t wait to hear what she sounds like when she comes. I bet it's the most beautiful in the world. “W—wait…” she trails off, her hip thrusts betraying her words. “Soobin, wait—” she gasps. This time, I stop. Gently wrapping her hand around the back of my neck to pull me closer. “I want you…all of you, please.”

I take the time to memorize what her face looks like, how her hair is splayed out against the flowers, how kissable her lips look. And I don’t resist them. Pressing my lips to hers again, they mould into each other like we should’ve never been apart in the first place. She tries to place her hands on my back, stumbling as she realizes my wings are in the way, which rustle in response. Instead, she rests them on my waist, squeezing delicately.

We hesitantly part so I can sit up on my knees. This time, I take the time to memorize everything about her body—her stomach rolls folding from holding her legs open, the life lace at the tops of her thighs, the swell of her ass squished by the ground. Everything is absolute, utter perfection.

Slowly gracing my hands to follow the curve of her waist then down to her thighs and hips, little bumps cover her skin. I forget what humans call them. Finding her clit with my thumb again, I rub agonizingly slow circles, forcing her hips to roll involuntarily. Barely prodding her entrance with my cock, I watch her shiver and whine, quickly getting impatient. When I back off, her pelvis bucks, her body begging for me on its own.

Aligning myself at her pussy again, I push myself in, only letting myself about halfway inside her but she still takes my breath away. Just as she’s about to let out a sigh of relief, I pull out of her again.

“Stop…” she whines. “Stop teasing me so much.” I chuckle with her—I guess I should get to the good stuff. “Please…please stop teasing me so much.”

I concede and when I’m finally fully inside her, everything feels so…much. It’s all so much. I feel like I’ve never felt before, like nothing has ever had any impact before her, like nothing will ever feel as good until we’re together again. I bend at my waist, supporting myself with my elbows around her face and her eyes flutter shut.

“Don't close your eyes, baby. Look at me,” I say. “We don’t have much time.”

When she opens her eyes and looks into mine, still nothing matters—not that she can’t see me without the veil lanterns, not that I could disappear from her view any minute, not that we could never truly be together. The way she feels overshadows all of that.

We don’t have much time, I remind myself. I sink deeper inside her, digging my face into her neck.

“Look at me,” she reminds me and I follow her instructions. We find a rhythm we both like, desperately thrusting in and out of her. “Kiss me…kiss me please,” she whispers. Our lips meet furiously as my hips dig into hers. “I need to feel you as much as I can,” she says. “Before I can’t anymore.” Resting her arms against my lower back—right below my wings—she squeezes around me, rubbing her hands up and down my waist. Delicately and hesitantly, she slides her hands up, letting her hands rest gently where my wings meet my skin.

There’s a vulnerability to it I wasn’t expecting. It’s not something I’ve thought about before—no one’s ever touched me like that there before, not even another faerie. My breath catches when her fingers trace the delicate ridge where my wings connect to my body. I shudder, the sensation overwhelming and pleasant. Her eyes widen, searching mine, unsure if she’s crossed a line.

“Is this okay?” she asks softly, her voice trembling.

I press my forehead to hers, nodding. “It’s okay,” I respond. “More than okay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her thumbs brushing lightly against the base of my wings.

“You won’t,” I promise, though my voice is raw, barely audible. “You couldn’t.”

Her lips find mine again, gentler this time, like her touch softened the urgency between us. The rhythm slows, turning into something deeper, more deliberate. Her hands never stray far from my wings and the trust in her touch makes my chest ache in the best way. In this moment, she sees me—not just with her eyes, but as someone she wants to hold onto, even when she knows she can’t forever.

“You feel,” she gasps. “I can’t—”

“I know, baby…” I sigh. “I know.” I silence her whimpers with my mouth, swallowing any whines that escape past her lips. I argue with myself trying to decide if I should close my eyes to savor how she feels, never leaving her lips or if I should keep them open to make sure I commit the sight of her underneath me to memory. Either way is a win for me to be fair.

Breaking the kiss, I trail my lips all over her body, tasting every inch of her. She’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever tasted before, slightly salty and warm against my tongue, different from the typical sweetness of other faeries. Every time I press my lips to her, I kiss away a hardship. I kiss away the stress in her shoulders, kiss away the problems she faces in her day-to-day life, kiss away any anxieties she feels. I’m desperate to make her feel good, to remind her that none of that matters here. With me.

When I flick my tongue over her nipple, her back arches, a gasp following her movements. I keep my thrusts steady, feeling her release building up in her stomach. I watch as her tummy muscles tighten then she desperately reaches for my hair, pulling me closer so our bodies are pressed together again. Her arms are wrapped around my torso and I can feel her clenching around me, teetering on the edge of something incredible.

“Soobin—” she gasps. “Don’t—” Her back arches. “Hmm…I’m close,” she says, a smile evident in her voice. “Please, please…” I don’t think she even knows what she’s begging for anymore. Begging for anything—my cock, my hands, my lips, a release.

Then, her nails dig into my lower back as she bites my shoulder, groaning loudly against my skin as she comes around my cock, pussy pulsating around me as she whimpers and whines through it.

“Oh my god,” she pants and just as she starts to twitch from overstimulation, I slow my movements, peppering her neck and face with kisses. She catches her breath, whispering incoherent things in my ears, things like my name, swears, giggles.

“Use me,” she whispers. I hum in question. “Use me to make yourself feel good.” I lift her legs, pressing them toward her chest, letting me reach the deepest parts of her. And everything about her feels incredible. Pounding into her quickly, I squeeze one of her tits with one hand and use the other to hold her waist in place.

It doesn’t take long for something inside me to twist and turn, begging to be snapped so I can fill her up. My stomach ties itself into too many knots as a white hot fire burns in the pit of it. The noises she’s making adds fuel to the fire, burning and burning until I can’t hold back anymore. With a few final thrusts, everything inside me breaks, like it’s all been building until this moment. I make a conscious effort to take my time and feel everything, thinking about how her pussy feels wrapped around my cock, how her tit feels in my hand, what she smells like, what she looks like. Everything is magic.

As I catch my breath, I pull out of her so slowly she shivers and I watch as my cum spills out of her while she giggles bashfully. I panic as I realize I didn’t prepare to clean up. Why didn’t I prepare for clean-up? She finds that little piece of fabric she was wearing earlier—what was it called again?—and uses them to wipe herself clean before folding them meticulously to store in her bag.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Eh…” she hums. …Eh? “Just kinda bittersweet is all, you know?” I shake my head in disappointment. “No, no!” She runs her fingers through my hair, looking at me sweetly. “That was amazing.” She kisses me deeply. “I should’ve started with that. I’m sorry.”

“You swear?”

“Of course,” she sighs. “That was incredible. It’s just…”

“I know,” I say. “How much time do we have left, you think?” Averting her eyes from mine, she looks down to fiddle with her thumbs.

“You’re already starting to fade.”

“Then look at me,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “Look at me until you can’t anymore.” She chuckles, bringing her eyes up to meet mine. We stare at each other, running our hands over each other’s bodies until we’ll no longer be able to feel the other. Once the Veil of Touch separates our hands again, we hesitantly get dressed during the last few minutes before the Veil of Sight and Sound completely separates us. She pulls her dress back over her head, closing off my view from her.

We sit again, facing toward each other, anxiously waiting until I fade from her view. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes. I start to reach for her, until I remember I can’t touch her.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Soobin,” she sniffles. I scoot closer to her.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” she gestures between us. “Only seeing you when I’m on some kind of high from those mushrooms? This would never work. I can’t just…not see or hear you when I’m sober. I can’t—this isn’t—” Her words puncture my lungs and I can’t breathe. The ache in her voice echoes into my chest and I hate these fucking Veils. What’s the point in them anyway? Can’t they be destroyed?

“Don’t say that,” I plead.

She shakes her head, tears spilling over as she wipes at her cheeks with trembling hands. “I can’t keep falling deeper for you, only to lose you every time the spell fades. It’s breaking me apart.”

My throat tightens. “You’re not losing me. I’ll always be here. Always. I promise.”

“But I won’t really be here, will I?” she says, her voice cracking. “I won’t ever be in the right state of mind when we’re together.”

Her words hang heavy in the air and all I can hear is the soft babble of the creek. I try to reach for her again, forgetting again I can’t. My hand hovers uselessly in the air before falling back to my side.

“There has to be another way,” I say, desperation creeping into my voice. “Something we haven’t tried. A way to get rid of them so we can be together.” She looks at me, her expression a mixture of longing and heartbreak.

“And if there isn’t? What then? Do we keep doing this forever?”

Leaning closer, I say, “You’re worth it.”

Her face crumples, and she presses her hands to her face as if to shield herself from my words. “Soobin, I—” I know the edges of her vision are starting to blur, the Veil is about to take me from her. Again. “Don’t go,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“I’m not leaving you,” I say. “Not really. I’ll always be here. Waiting.” And then I know I’m gone by the sound of her cries. I turn the water a rich, warm shade of yellow with deep golden and earthy undertones—turmeric—so she knows I’m still there with her. She stands slowly, turns and starts to walk away but stops a few steps in, she looks back, somehow right into my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

#soobin smut #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #choi soobin #chubby reader #soobin x reader

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fanaticmorelikefantastic · 3 months ago

Text

Welcome Home : Hobie x fem!reader

This is my first fic for @the-kr8tor 's Octobie event! I'm really super excited and I hope you like it :D

Synopsis: Everything sucks and then you get cat distribution systemed to Hobie.

Tags: Hobie/reader, Hobie/fem!reader, Reader is from another country, I just assumed she was american, American reader, Supposed to be in the 70's?, Just pretend it's an au if anything sounds funny about it, Hurt/comfort, wee bit of angst, crying in the rain, etc.

Note: I tried my best to write it as a hurt comfort, but I'm not sure if it turned out that way. First snippet of a series of oneshots about an American immigrant reader and Hobie! das it :)

It was a dark, but not very stormy night. London, always a gloomy one, this city was. Not that I’m any better. Through a series of events, I found myself in this here alleyway, looking for answers. Riddle me this; how does one find a man, who is a spider, who is a man? You call me, that’s how. The dame came into my office, just wanted to know who her saviour was, she said. Told me she would hand over a handsome sum of cash if I could find him. Money makes the world go round, after all. Course I agreed, I was tight-strapped this month and something had to pay that rent.

The first step to knowing about the wanted is to know about the wanter. In this case, that would be me. In reality, there was no damsel bursting into a private eye’s office, there wasn’t even a large wad of cash. Just a girl, a masked hero, and a handwritten thank-you note.

London was nowhere near the pearly and refined city it was advertised to be, especially not in this soot stained, half muddied alleyway. As for why I was found in said alleyway, several days ago, I had gotten into some trouble with some sort of crooked cop, but before anything extraordinarily unsavory could happen, I was saved in one fell swoop by a man in some strange costume. I believe that living out of hotels was taking a toll on my mental state, and living at all was taking a toll on my wallet. So, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to find who he was and thank him. A simple thank-you, that’s all, and maybe I would ask him if he was hiring.

My search took me from one end of the city to another, and eventually into this alleyway. They called him ‘Spider-Man’ or ‘Spider-Punk.’ Strange names, but I’m not too sure what I expected of a man who runs around dressed like such. At some point in my thread of conversations and inquiries, I was led to Camden, then to this very alley. Supposedly, he shows up here often, but apparently not today. That’s fine. It’s okay. I had only started my search because I had nothing better to do; I was just taking a break by doing this. Against my will, this spot made me start to think of… everything. My moving here, my lack of a job, my lack of a house, that awful place that I had left behind, my dwindling visa, it all seemed like too much; it all was too much. I leaned on a dusty hvac machine, back heavy with worries, listening to the quiet shrills and screams of some not-so-far away concert. The music had deep, billowing bass and a powerful guitar. It was like no other music I had heard before, and it called to me somewhat. Unfortunately, the rotten worms in my head were louder than the music right now. Barely overshadowed by the crackling of my thoughts was a low rumble curling in the clouds above. I sighed when I heard a clap of thunder. The muffled concert in the distance began to stop playing its heavy and low tones when the mouselike droplets evolved into a storm. I hated the rain. Not all rain, just this rain; this rain that marked the demise of my journey; this rain that reminded me I was only ever stupid and naive; this rain that told me to give up, pack my bags, and go back home; that I should have never left my country in the first place; that was the rain that I despised with all my heart. This wretched rain had gotten on my face. Yes, surely, it was the rain that was ruining the makeup I worked so hard on this morning. It was ripping up that stupid letter of mine and causing me to dig my face into my hands. All of this was blamed on the rain, who was innocent of all save for soaking my hair.

I stayed like that for a while, next to the smoother gray wall, huddled over, soaked in mostly my own misery. My own waterfalls made the rain feel like a light shower. If nowhere else, I felt allowed in this alley. That I could cry and sob and be angry and scared and cold and nobody would care because they don’t expect to see sane people in an alleyway to begin with. I most certainly do not. The tears and rain that coated my palms made them almost suction to my face, but in the midst of my dolor, I heard a voice from somewhere beside or near me.

“What’s wrong lovie?” My head dragged up from my hands after the sound of a limoncello voice hung itself in the air. After a lousy wipe of my eyes, I was able to properly see the man who cared enough about a stranger’s tears to stop and ask what they cried for. That dingy street lamp flickered its light around him like a halo. It took me a moment to register the man, his dewy chocolate skin and glossy hazelnut eyes. His face was studded with silver stars, and despite his sharp expression, he held a certain softness about him. He held a bright red umbrella, funny, he didn’t look like the type. He was a tall man for certain, craning over so he could cover me. His presence made everything stop for a moment, a still, small, and quiet recognition fell on these two strangers in this back alley of London.

“Who are you calling lovie?” My voice was like a crisp, wobbling paper. I stood up to speak with him, but by the time I was at my full height, my waterworks were, once again, in full swing. He panicked a little, holding his free hand out in the way one would to try and calm a dog you’ve never seen before.

“Woa, woa, what's the matter with you? ‘s everything alright?” I’m not quite sure what made me do it, maybe I’ve lost my mind since coming to this place, but I stood there and sobbed out everything that happened to me during my time in London. Words, and feelings, and thoughts and actions kept spilling, tumbling, out of my mouth like bricks collapsing through the bottom of a broken forklift. That whole time, he listened, actually, truly listened to the ramblings of a stranger who he’d just met in some shady back alley while it was raining. Once again, I held the feeling that everything about him glowed.

“Well, have you got any place to stay tonight?” He spoke very softly to me.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be hanging around here, would I?” I shivered like a wet rat, parts of my hair stuck to the nape of my neck. He laughs through his nose before shrugging off his studded black leather jacket and placing it around my shoulders. The lining was warm.

“Well, let’s get you washed up. You look a bloody mess.” He gave my shoulders a light tap.

“Am I bleeding?” I tapped my face a little, checking for anything warm. He gave me a funny look in response.

“Th’ name’s Hobie by the way. Hobie Brown.” I did my best to wipe my face off before telling him my name. I reached out my hand, and he gave it a quick shake.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

I followed him around the streets like a lost puppy, clutching the coat he gave me like it was a lifeline and occasionally looking at his silent face. The pavement we passed on was glossed over with the continuing rain. We passed building after building, some separated, some connected, and others so close they might as well be. I was certainly very close to someone who could, within reason, be mistaken for a building. If I ever began to wander too close to the edge of the umbrella, a steady and gentle hand would kindly guide me back to my spot beside him. We made our way to a canal style river thing in the middle of the city. He pointed my gaze toward a houseboat floating and rolling on the water. It looked like somewhere a retired pirate would live.

The interior was surprisingly cozy despite its somewhat bare furnishings. Various knicknacks and things nestled themselves in unassuming spots around the place. The moment I set foot in the door, I felt right at home.

“Leave your shoes at the door, ’ll take that too.” Hobie. Hobie waited for me to unlatch my shoes and stand straight before taking his coat from my shoulders. I never noticed him put the umbrella away, but it’s gone, and his shoes are neatly set to the side on a not-so-neat towel. I don’t know what to say as I watch him take my shoes and line them right next to his, so I stand in the doorway and watch him wander out of view then right back in with some dry and clean clothes. He hands them to me with both hands, so that’s the exact way I receive them as I try to unclog my throat for words to flow through. I look back up at his face. He’s waiting so patiently for me to find my words, with that same sternly soft expression.

“Thank you.” The words came out a little too quiet, so I said it again.

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me, even though we just met and I-” My voice broke again when I started tearing up.

“Oh no, no, come on, love. You on’t have to cry.” Quickly, He thumbed away my budding tears, his palms warm on my face.

“I know, but I’m just- I’m so grateful, you know?” He did. He knew. I could see it in his shining gray eyes that he knew. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have waited for me to stop my crying. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have wiped away every stray tear himself. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been so quick to open his home to me. If he didn’t, he would have never lent me that coat of his. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have handed me these clothes that I’m holding.

Once I got myself together, I was directed to the bathroom. Surprisingly, (according to him), there was warm water to shower with, and I did so happily. When I stepped into the living room I felt like I had on brand new skin. Hobie had the stove on and open while he stirred some milk into a second cup of tea. He turned around before I could even properly enter the kitchenette, as though he already knew that I was there.

“Feelin’ better yet?” He handed me the cup he was holding with a smile, a deep and pretty blue. I held it and relished in the warmth of the cup from both his hands and the tea.

“Wasn’t sure if you liked sugar, so I didn’t add any.” I wanted to cry again. He was overwhelming in all the best ways possible, but I had already put him through enough of my tears tonight, so I sucked them back in.

“I don’t” I smiled at him before taking a sip of what could very well be the best tea of my life.

“If ‘s not uncomfortable, you could stay ‘ere till you get your own base of operation.” He was leaning on the counter, index tracing the edge of his own cup while speaking. Instead of this tea, I wish I could drink the color of his eyes as they’re looking at me. I'm suddenly smiling a lot right now.

"I will, if you'll have me."

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