#not really but i’m not risking ANYTHING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuechihua · 1 day ago

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a midnight guest.

summary: jamil has to contend with an unexpected guest and his own growing feelings when ramshackle dorm's pipes burst and kalim invites you to stay at scarabia.

notes: 4.7k words, author's notes, fluff

Jamil has long known of Kalim’s unfortunate habit of picking up strays, his inability to resist a pitiful look or downturned mouth, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised when Kalim shows up at the dorm with you and Grim in tow.

“I’m giving them a place to stay!” Kalim announces, gesturing at you and Grim like he’s presenting Jamil with two kittens he’s found off the side of the road. His smile is bright, even as the sun slips down the horizon, painting the entrance of their dorm in darkening oranges and reds.

A cool breeze stirs through the evening, and Jamil keeps his face perfectly neutral as his eyes bore into you and Grim. Grim shuffles like an impatient child, but you’re more tranquil, clutching a duffel bag to your chest.

When you notice Jamil’s eyes on you, you smile at him, apologetic.

“Sorry,” you murmur. There’s a trace of embarrassment in your voice. “I know this is unexpected. But the pipes at Ramshackle burst, and no one else has room for me. I was going to ask Crowley, but—”

“But I found them!” Kalim interrupts. “And we have so much room, and the idea of our friends out in the cold is sad, and the more the merrier, right?”

Kalim picking up strays is a kind gesture, sure, but with his scattered attention, the responsibilities and care inevitably end up falling on Jamil. Promising things he can’t keep, making plans that just end up creating more work and stress for other people, thinking kindness is a convenient excuse for every irresponsible action: it’s all so painfully Kalim it makes Jamil want to shake him until some loose screw in his head clicks into place.

You’re not to blame for this situation, not really. Jamil doesn’t even hold any particular distaste for you; his shit list is a mile long, but you’ve generally managed to keep yourself off it. Still, that doesn’t mean he’s enthused at having to put up another guest for the night. It’s a security risk, even though he doubts you could do anything with both a lack of magic and malice.

Additionally, you’ve always been more of Kalim’s friend than his. Everything he has belongs to Kalim, but nothing of Kalim belongs to him, as much as Kalim insists they share everything, like true friends do. It’s a naive thought, ugly in the pure way Kalim says it. Jamil has no desire to compete for things that can’t be his.

Besides, friendship means nothing in their world. Someone is always waiting with a knife behind their back or poison in their hand. You could mean well, but who’s to say you don’t have ulterior motives of your own?

“Come in,” he says. His voice is smooth, cordial. The perfect attendant, the diligent servant. “We do have quite a few spare rooms. I can make one up for you.”

“Oh, and they should join us for dinner, too! Jamil is the best cook,” Kalim says, turning towards you with puppy-dog enthusiasm. “You’ll love anything he makes!”

“I don’t want to impose,” you begin.

“Free grub? Count me in!” Grim says. “Whatcha got on the menu?”

“Ooo! I don’t know! But I just know it’s going to be good. Do you have anything you want? I’m sure we can get it for you!”

Jamil lets a sigh escape him. You’re the only one who seems to notice, watching him with a tilted head, as if observing him, but he has no time to puzzle out your intentions. Dinner was just supposed to be Kalim and him, and now he has to figure out a way to feed two additional people. There’s no reason for you to pay attention to him, regardless.

The rest of the evening passes only with the minimal amount of trouble that Kalim’s presence usually brings: careless promises of future parties, a mess of dishes he has to clean, and overwhelming generosity that needs to be checked. Somehow, Jamil manages to whip together a few more dishes to feed both you and Grim, the latter whose stomach seems to be endless. Kalim’s chatter flows just as eternally, and Jamil can only pray for dinner to be over quickly.

When it’s over, he guides you and Grim to your room, leading you down winding hallways and luxuries strewn carelessly at every corner, priceless vases and artwork that’s worth more money than he can make in a lifetime. It’s a constant reminder of Kalim’s wealth, his endless presence saturing into every corner of the dorm.

“This is your room,” he says. It’s a spare guest room, one of many, in fact, that Kalim has. It’s sumptuous as all of them are, with silk drapes, embroidered bed sheets, and heavy wooden furniture crafted by skilled artisans.

“This is one swanky place!” Grim crows. “Do ya think we can take some of it home?”

Jamil smiles, a touch coldly. “Only if you can afford it. A pillow alone is worth more than your entire dorm.”

“Okay, jeez,” Grim murmurs.

“Thank you for this, Jamil,” you say. You linger at the doorway, even as Grim runs in and starts jumping on the bed in delight, the mattress soft and springy enough to launch him several feet in the air.

“Say nothing of it. Kalim invites friends over all the time.”

“It just seems like a lot of work,” you venture. “And it was last minute. I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It’s no more work than I’m used to.”

“All right.” You look like you want to say more, but mercifully, you only dip your head at him. “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect.” If there was one thing to say about you, then it was that you understood when to keep your mouth shut and read the mood, a skill both Kalim and Grim sorely lacked.

It’s late at night when Jamil finally has time for himself, and he settles on the edge of his bed, letting his hair loose, running through the list of everything he has to do in the morning. It’s exhausting that his day never really seems to end. There’s always something to prepare for, another task to consider, someone else to watch over.

Not even his time belongs to him. His life will always be spent at another’s whims.

His head throbs. He stands, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he’ll grab some water to help him sleep.

The halls are silent at this time of night, a change from the usual noise and rush of students. It’s peaceful, the shadows pooling at his feet, the moonlight gilding everything in silver. In its solitude, it almost makes Jamil feel like the dorm is his, as foolish of a thought as it is.

There’s shuffling coming from the kitchen. He freezes just beyond the door, hand gripping the pen in his pocket. An intruder? Or another student? Regardless, he rounds the corner, pen in his hand, a spell on the tip of his tongue—before you whirl around, lit by the buttery yellow light of the fridge, clutching a plate of grapes and a glass of water with one hand.

“Jamil,” you say in a gasp, startling just enough that the water ripples in your cup. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“I could say the same of you,” he says, relaxing his grip on his pen.

“I was still feeling hungry. I didn’t want to bother anyone, so…”

“What about Grim?”

“He’s asleep. Here, let me get you some water.”

“I don’t need–” But you’re already reaching for another ceramic cup, and it’s more trouble to refuse this small kindness than it is to accept it. He leans against the island in the middle of the kitchen, marble counter digging into his hip, watching you fill the glass at the sink.

“Here.” You offer it to him. “Want some grapes, too?”

He looks at the pile of grapes in your dish, shining in rich, luscious purples and greens, like miniature jewels, dew clinging to the skin. “I’ll take one.”

The water is cool, and the grapes burst with fresh, sweet juice on his tongue. The two of you snack in the quiet. It’s surprising how relaxed he feels, how easy it is to be by your side. There’s no malice from you, nor a crushing weight of expectation. You’re like the clear, refreshing water in a stream.

The grapes are almost gone when you speak, rolling one between your fingers like a marble. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you more.”

“Me?” he says.

“Is there another Jamil Viper in the room?” you tease. “Yes, you.”

“Why? There’s no benefit to getting to know me. I’m not like Kalim.”

There’s a mischievous edge to your smile as you glance at him. “So what? I just want to get to know you.”

“... I’m not an interesting person.”

“I like people like you,” you say. “Here. Let me wash these.” Before he can protest, you’re already grabbing his cup and bringing all the dishes to the sink. Your words are strange, and he can’t make sense of them at all. Him? You want to know him? After everything he’s done to present himself as an ordinary student, why would you take an interest in him?

Maybe it’ll be to his benefit, though. You have ties to Crowley, and your own social connections could prove useful someday. There’s always the possibility that you’re attempting to use him in some regard, too. If that’s the case, then a relationship of mutual give and take isn’t the worst thing in the world, despite your lack of magic.

“Good night again, Jamil,” you say. It’s an odd feeling, not having to rush around, knowing things will fall apart if he doesn’t keep them together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” he says. You leave. For a few seconds more, Jamil lingers in the empty kitchen, the memory of the sweet taste of grapes on his tongue.

In the morning, you act no differently than usual. It’s as if Jamil dreamt the entirety of last night’s encounter.

“I hope you slept well,” you greet him at breakfast.

“I hope the same for you,” Jamil responds. He’s attentive to your movements, studying you out of the corner of his eye. You act no differently than normal, chiding Grim for eating so fast he chokes, and bantering with Kalim. You’re casual, relaxed.

The day passes much the same after that. He keeps track of Kalim, handles various chores throughout the day, and attends classes, perfecting his goal of keeping his grade at a middling, respectable level.

It bothers Jamil, just a little, how aware he is of you, seeing the flutter of your uniform in the corridors, hearing your laughter across the lunchroom. When you’re with your friends, Ace and Deuce, passing him in the halls, you smile at him.

“Hello, Jamil,” you greet.

“Hello,” he responds.

There’s no more to your conversation, simple and short as it is, even as he hears Ace in a fierce whisper, exclaiming, “Prefect, I didn’t think you knew Jamil!”

Jamil entertains the thought that you’re simply trying to cozy up to him in order to target Kalim, but he banishes it as soon as it arrives. You’re already friends with Kalim, so if you wanted to harm him, you’d have the chance to do so by now. So why the interest in him? What possible reason could you have to get closer to him?

That night, as he sits in bed, Jamil can’t bring himself to sleep. Instead, he heads out to the kitchen again. It’s for no reason other than a midnight snack, he reassures himself, even as his pace quickens when he hears the quiet noise of someone in the kitchen past the hour everyone should be asleep.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, a pot of warm tea gently humming on the stove. There are two cups and a plate of crackers set next to you.

It’s hard to believe you’ve taken a genuine interest in him, but the suspicions temporarily relax as you offer him a cracker from the same stash you’re munching on. He takes it without a word, and you pour tea into the second cup, sliding it over to him.

“You look nice with your hair down,” you greet. “Can’t sleep?”

“I wanted to stretch my legs,” he says. “And you?”

“I’m just here because I want to be.”

“I see.” Jamil takes a sip from his tea. It’s fragrant and floral and altogether a gentle taste.

There’s no more conversation until the food is done and the tea is cooled, at which point you simply hop off the counter and say, “Good night, Jamil.”

“Good night, prefect,” he responds.

In the morning, over breakfast, as Grim squabbles over Kalim feeding him too many crackers, you say, over your own plate once he finally sits down, “Good morning, Jamil. Did you sleep well?”

“Good morning. It was fine.”

It’s a simple greeting, nothing more. But there’s a weight to your words, as if your day can’t start and your night can’t end until you see him.

After that, it becomes an unspoken agreement for the two of you to meet every night. In that quiet space of time, when everyone else is asleep and the halls belong to him, Jamil finds himself drawn to the kitchen. It’s rare that he arrives before you do, with your plate of simple snacks and quiet companionship.

The two of you talk about nothing in particular, but even a relaxed, meandering conversation still washes away the exhaustion of his day. The sound of your voice has come to be rather familiar and soothing.

“Grim keeps a stash of tuna cans under his bed for emergencies, but keeps eating through them whenever he gets hungry, which defeats the point of having a stash,” you’ll tell him.

“Kalim doesn’t even think to keep food on him,” Jamil will reply dryly. “All he has to do is ask someone to fetch him something if he’s hungry.”

This is the only time of his day in which he has a moment for himself. Yet, he doesn’t mind sharing a piece of his time with you. You have common sense; you don’t irritate him unnecessarily; you’re clever and useful. That’s all it is, and no more than that.

“You look at the prefect a lot,” Kalim remarks once.

“I don’t,” Jamil replies. “Since they’re our guests, I’m just taking it upon myself to make sure their needs are met.”

Still, perhaps Jamil has gotten too used to your presence if even Kalim notices, though Kalim has always had his moments of unnerving emotional perception.

Several weeks or so later, you, Grim, Jamil and Kalim are passing time in the lounge. The four of you are supposed to be “studying” (read: you and Jamil are going over class notes, and Kalim and Grim are playing some nonsensical card game whose rules they keep making up). Occasionally, though, when he looks up, he’ll meet your gaze, and you’ll make a silly face at him. It’s cute, not that he would ever tell you that.

He’s just put his pen to paper when Kalim exclaims, in a voice louder than it needs to be, “Ramshackle is fixed?”

“Yeah, they just got it done. But dunno if I wanna go back tomorrow,” Grim says. “We’ve got a nice gig here.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” Kalim says. “Oh, and feel free to visit as often as you want, too! It’s going to be lonely without you two!”

A blotch of ink is forming under his pen, staining his paper with a dark pool. Of course. How could he forget? Your time here is temporary. You were always going to leave, and it’ll be a relief to have two less people to worry about.

He only feels so strange because he’s fallen into a habit of greeting you every morning, and seeing you every night. It’s simply difficult when his routine is shaken in unexpected ways, that’s all.

Jamil risks a glance at you, but your head is still bent over your paper. He can’t make out your expression, but your hands have stilled over your notebook. What are you thinking? He won’t be able to find out until tonight.

Grim and Kalim chatter in the background, returning to their game, but you and Jamil are both weighed down by unexpected silence. The blotch on his paper has grown, ink staining and spreading. There’s no way to fix it now.

The evening passes slower than usual. Jamil finds himself hurrying to the kitchen, the moon lighting his way as he flies with silent steps. However, several feet away, voices and warm light spill out from beneath the door.

Jamil’s pace slows, something sludgy and dark churning in his stomach. He doesn’t want to look, but he has to. You’re in the kitchen as usual, elbows propped against the counter, a plate of cookies resting beside you. And right next to you, his smile glowing like the sun, eyes crinkled in foolish complacency, is Kalim.

The two of you are engaged in some conversation about classes or extracurriculars. As Jamil stands in the pool of shadows, outside the reach of the light, all he can think about is how wide your smile is, an ease in your stance that only Kalim can bring out in people.

“Hi Jamil!” Kalim chirps, head perking up in his direction. “You can’t sleep, either? I was just going to grab something to eat, but then I saw the prefect was here!”

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t able to.”

“Come join us,” Kalim urges. “Do you want some of these cookies?”

“I’m not hungry.”

The thing about wanting, Jamil finds, is that it’s useless. Desires like his will only go unfulfilled, because, after all, he can never put himself first. Everything he does, everything he has, will only ever be given in service to Kalim. He’s doomed to forced mediocrity, to hide in the shadows to make Kalim shine brighter.

It’s a lesson he’s had to learn again, and again, and again. Nothing is his. He can only bite back his own useless anger, a snake choking on its own poison.

“I’m going to go on a walk,” he says.

“Okay! Come back when you’re done!” Kalim exclaims.

Jamil doesn’t meet your eyes as he strides away, keeping his steps even, measured, and fast. You’ll be gone by tomorrow, and he will still be here with Kalim, the shackles of an unchanging relationship and routine and future.

His body reacts before his mind can when he hears footsteps behind him, whirling around before your outstretched hand can touch him. It hovers in the air between the two of you, before you let it fall.

“Jamil,” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just needed to clear my head.”

Your eyes are luminous, reflecting the silver of the moon. “Can I walk with you, then?”

“You left Kalim behind?”

“I was worried about you,” you say. “He’s all right. He was going to head to bed soon, anyway.”

He lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair. “All right.”

It’s a quiet walk. He’s learned to keep his footsteps silent, but you haven’t had to learn that same skill. It’s a strange comfort, the echo of your rhythmic steps, a constant reminder of your presence. He finds himself trying to match your particular pace.

“Grim and I are moving back to Ramshackle now that the pipes have been repaired,” you say. “They had to overhaul the entire thing.”

“It’ll be nice to go back home, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but I’ll miss Scarabia.”

“Like Kalim said, you’re welcome to visit.”

“Would you be okay with that?”

“If Kalim says it’s all right, I don’t see why not.”

You scuff at the ground with one of your shoes, as if you’re unsatisfied with that answer. “I’ll miss this too, you know.”

“Hm?”

“Getting you to myself every night,” you say. “I like Kalim, but I don’t really get to spend time with you alone like this.”

At some point while you’ve been talking, your steps have slowed to a crawl until you’re no longer moving. He’s stopped as well. You stare at him, unflinching, chin raised. What does he look like in your eyes?

“You say a lot of bold things, prefect.”

“You don’t get what you want if you’re not bold.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but what would the point be? Right now, you’re still here. You’re with him. Your words are assured, confident, in a way that makes him want to believe you.

“It’s a nice night,” he begins. “Nice enough for a flight.”

If Jamil was a better person, he could say the suggestion in his words is born from affection, an innocent desire to be close to you. After all, Kalim is the one constantly offering people rides on his magic carpet, as if the sky is also a luxury he can own. But he doesn’t own it, and he doesn’t own your time, either.

“Should we go for a loop around the area, then?” you say.

It takes little effort to find a broom and repurpose it for his uses; flight magic is a parlor trick, but magic has always come easily to him. What Jamil has to be more careful with is flying with another person as he drags the enchanted broom out to a balcony. You hop on with ease, keeping a suitable distance behind him, hands wrapped around the handle in front of you.

You seem used to the process. Have one of your freshman friends taken you out like this? Or Kalim? Were you comfortable enough to wrap your arms around their waist with the unthinking nature of affection?

“Should I get closer?” you ask. There’s new mischief in your voice, as if you can sense his thoughts. If nothing else, Jamil is tangibly aware of the warmth and weight of you behind him.

“Only if you don’t want to fall off,” he says curtly. There’s rustling, and then your arms are sliding around his waist, hugging him close. Jamil is silently thankful for the fact you can’t see his face.

“It’s always important to be careful of flight safety. Vargas told us that, you know!”

“Don’t let go, then.”

With no more warning, he sets off into the air, ascending with a practiced ease and speed. Up, and up, and up, until he can disappear into the clouds, reach up close to touch the frosty brightness of the stars, until everything below him shrinks and disappears into insignificance and nothing matters except for this.

The wind kisses his face, the cool night enveloping him. He’s free. He could go anywhere, do anything, and there will be nothing to stop him. This is his, all his.

“How far do you think you can go?” you shout, raising your voice against the rushing air.

“As far as I want.”

“Are there any places you want to visit, then?”

“Everywhere,” Jamil says. The wind frees an honesty in him he wouldn’t be able to afford otherwise. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. “I’ve always wanted to go all over the world at some point.”

“Well, we have one night to do it all,” you say, playfully.

“You want to come with me?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Your arms are still looped around his waist, the only spot of warmth against the cold night.

“It wouldn’t be too bad if you did.”

In response to his words, you squeeze his waist once.

The two of you soar through the air for another hour, until you start shivering and Jamil brings his broom around, alighting on the same balcony you departed from. It’s over, but the thrill of his momentary freedom still hums in his blood.

Perhaps you’re feeling the same way, because neither of you make a move to head inside. Instead, you rest your arms atop the white stone balustrade, staring out at the sky.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah. I can’t impose on you any longer. So, can you indulge me a little?”

“What is it?”

“Let’s spend a little more time together.”

“All right,” he concedes. You start making your way down the halls, a cheer lighting your steps. You’re heading to the kitchen again, and this time, it’s mercifully empty. No Kalim in sight, all the lights turned off. The only reminder of his presence is the empty plate left on the counter, which Jamil will have to wash later.

You drum your fingers on the marble island, some imaginary rhythm he can’t follow, before sliding down to sit against it, knees tucked up to your chin. You wave a hand at him, and he reluctantly sinks down until he’s cross legged, right next to you, on the cool tile floor. Shadows and appliances he uses everyday stretch out before him, but the darkness always makes everything a little unfamiliar.

“It feels like this is our secret clubhouse,” you say. “It’s nice.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I like spending time with you.”

“Why?” he asks. “I told you from the beginning. I’m not an interesting person. There’s not a lot I can do for you.”

Your smile is cheeky as you rest your head on your knees. “Let me tell you a secret, Jamil. Ramshackle was actually fixed a while ago. Grim and I could have left a lot sooner; he just let the proverbial cat out of the bag by accident today.”

“Prefect,” Jamil says, appraising you with renewed interest. “You’re slyer than you look.”

You wiggle your fingers. “You don’t get by without being a little underhanded, you know!”

Your conversation winds pleasantly through all manners of topics, from the mundane to the academic. The hours are ticking away, and he’ll have to get up in the morning to handle all his various responsibilities. But it’s hard to tear himself away from you, even when his limbs grow numb from sitting for so long. If Jamil leaves, he knows the moment will be over. Just for now, it’s the two of you, alone in your own world.

You’re yawning when he finally broaches his question; he’s been waiting for just the right moment. “Prefect.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you leave once Ramshackle was fixed?”

It’s hard to look away from you when you keep smiling at him like this, as if he’s being drawn like the tides by the moon: a helpless, and inevitable, phenomenon. “Because I want to say good morning and good night to you every day.”

“Oh.”

“Jamil?”

“Yes?”

“What about you?”

The thing about want is that Jamil is familiar with it; he knows acutely what it’s like to desire more than he should, to have it fester and rot from inside, as if it’ll destroy him if he doesn’t do something about it. Nothing is his, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to have just one thing, something he can’t let anyone else take from him, to selfishly cling to it.

“I’m going to tell you good night, prefect. And when you wake, I’ll be the first one to greet you,” he says.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even right now you’ll do it?”

“I’ll say it first if you want. Good night, prefect.”

Good night, Jamil.” The sleepy excitement in just those few words alone is palatable.

You lean your head against his shoulder, and he shifts so it’s comfortable. Neither of you speak. From your even breathing, you might have fallen asleep already.

In a second, Jamil will move. He can wake you up just long enough for you to walk back to your room, or he’ll carry you if he has to. Then, he’ll slip into his own bed. If the two of you are caught together, it’ll cause too much commotion.

But for now, Jamil will simply enjoy your presence, and tomorrow, he’ll be the first to tell you, “Good morning.”

#liya.writes #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #x reader

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lvmimis · 2 days ago

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cw: part 2 of the romantic getaway series. exes to lovers. lots of bkdk banter.

It’s 8:30 am on the dot when Izuku hears the treads of Katsuki’s car make it to the front of his apartment building and Izuku is thankful he decided to forgo the coffee he considered buying before his friend arrived. Before Izuku can get to the door, Katsuki has rolled the window down and is looking at him with a look of mild annoyance as he sees the suitcase, overstuffed to bursting, propped up next to his friend.

“There better not be a single figurine in there.”

Izuku, in relatively good humor considering the fact that he barely slept the night before, chuckles as he approaches the rising back of Katsuki’s car, dropping his suitcase, nearly twice the size as Katsuki’s, with a thud in the trunk.

“Only the letters from your most devoted haters for some light reading.”

If Katsuki is annoyed by it, Izuku will never find out because by the time he closes the trunk and comes back over to the passenger side of the car, he realizes that Katsuki is staring at his shoes.

He sighs as he gets in.

“Mirio’s team gave these to me for free. I’m not sending any subliminal messages, Kacchan.”

Katsuki won’t say anything else about the fact that his friend is wearing his girlfriend’s ex’s line of sneakers and it bothers him, because that would be immature so rather he presses the push to start button of the car and starts their course to the airport without further ado.

Izuku watches his apartment, which feels less like home these days and more like a place to lay his head, fade in the distance. There’s something wistful about it. He’s literally only leaving for a week, Saturday to Saturday, but he gets the impression that he won’t come back to it the same way he left it.

Turning back to the road, he lets out another sigh. Katsuki has moved on from whatever train of thought had assailed him and now grips the steering wheel less tightly.

“Okay, here’s what I need you to understand.”

Izuku braces himself, slumping in his seat as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sky blue sweatshirt, perhaps a little too conspicuous for an up and coming hero, but one of his favorite colors since his adolescence.

“Yes?” Izuku says, knowing that if he doesn’t respond out loud to show he’s giving him his full attention, Katsuki will wait before speaking, then get angrier the longer he waits.

Katsuki readjusts in his seat and cracks his neck on both sides, then throws a sideways glance at Izuku.

“You and that girl of yours are not doing anything to fuck up this vacation, you hear me?”

“Here we go,” Izuku mutters under his breath, but Katsuki is still doing precisely that, going.

“Over the course of this trip, I have two primary goals-” he honks at a car that cuts him off abruptly, but decides to leave it at that because he simply has bigger fish to fry, and that’s his childhood friend in the car beside him who already looks like he’s sulking.

“I am going to FUCK” - the emphasis on it almost has Izuku side-eyeing him - “and I am going to enjoy myself, which means there will be no arguing and there will be no crying.”

“Why are you assuming I would-” Izuku starts but Katsuki’s red glare reminds him that he’s wasting his time.

“I don’t want either of the two of you doing any type of shit that’s gonna make us leave early. You hear me? Not at the airport, not on the plane, not at the hotel, not at any buffet line, not at the bars, not on the hiking trails, not ANYWHERE, okay?”

Izuku lets out a sigh.

“I’m serious. If she says ‘don’t look at me’, don’t fucking look at her.”

“Are you really policing where my eyes go, Kacchan?”

“Do NOT.”

Katsuki makes a sharp but precise turn and Izuku considers if he should put in his earphones to ignore him and risk a real fight. His friend seems to have gotten the coffee that Izuku skipped and in some ways he envies his passion, but this is annoying he has to admit.

He’s a grown man. He can behave in public and you’re just as cordial, for the most part. It will be fine.

But something mischievous in Izuku’s chest flares up every once in a while when Katsuki is giving him one of his lectures and it comes up now.

“Okay, so what happens if you and ___ fight then?”

Katsuki’s neck snaps towards him at the speed of light.

“Hah!?”

“Look at the road.” Izuku retorts calmly.

“I will literally turn this car around and kill us both, don’t piss me off.” Katsuki hisses.

“I mean, neither of us will die, but okay. You’ll literally just raise your insurance.”

Izuku’s cool voice hangs in the air as Katsuki realizes he’s right. He doesn’t say another word aside from a noncommittal grumble and there’s peace finally, enough so that Izuku can shut his eyes and think of how best to face you, for the rest of the short ride.

—

“This feels a little more prestigious than I was anticipating,” you whisper to your friend, as you follow an escort to the airport lounge that just precedes the gate to your plane. From your vantage point, especially once the two of you are seated in what feels like an entire secret terminal separate from the remainder of the international airport, you can see that the plane itself is a relatively small carrier, but is painted far too extravagantly, as though an advertisement for Romance in and of itself.

Your friend is slightly distracted as you speak to her, and you can tell that she’s corresponding with Katsuki to clarify his whereabouts. You look at your own phone - notifications from many social media apps and a few text messages from your parents and siblings and overseas friends that were sent at odd hours, wishing you a good trip, emails from work preparing for your official return. You’re not exactly sure what you are waiting for, and when the thought occurs to you that it might be a text message from Izuku, you physically shake the thought out of your head and shove your phone in the pocket.

As soon as you put it away however, it buzzes, and you realize you’re in a four way group chat.

Where are you guys? <3

Immediately after she sends that message, she sends you a separate message.

Don’t you dare leave the chat.

You can feel your stomach turn.

You can see Izuku typing for a moment, a bubble and three dots hovering next to his name, but it disappears after a few moments, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Suddenly you’re very self conscious about the way you look. Minimal makeup on your face. Your leggings and sneakers might be nice, but you haven’t done your hair in any way, opting for a french turban to clean up your look. You look nice and casual, but not eat-your-heart-out nice. Your handbag is-

You freeze. Izuku bought you this bag.

Your face is a blazing hot mess when the two men suddenly arrive. Your friend jumps out of her seat to hug Katsuki, leaving you and Izuku staring at each other for the first time in at least two months. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to inch your carry on bag, the gifted tote slightly behind you, hoping he won’t notice. He doesn’t, you think; he waves awkwardly, almost a salute to you and averts his eyes quickly.

You wave back, then try to find something else to occupy you.

You hate that every time you look at Izuku in person, you remember that pictures and videos never do him justice. He’s so much more handsome in the flesh, every time, and even though he’s clearly uncomfortable, a red tinge to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, he smiles nervously, especially when the attendant that brought them to this lounge reminds him his shoes have untied, and you can feel your heart go pitter-patter.

No. Absolutely not.

“Promise me you didn’t add those feather boas back into your luggage,” you overhear Katsuki say. Your friend’s arm is hooked around his, and you can hear her dodge the question artfully, as if the pink item isn’t peeking out of her carry on bag. She’d told you Katsuki helped her repack her bags last night, and had a lot to say about her choices, but you also know that she’s a free spirit and does whatever she feels despite her more rigid counterpart.

You’ve probably overpacked but that’s always been your modus operandi.

Izuku is still standing, unsure where to position himself in a way that’s close enough that he’s a member of the party, but not enough that he’s threatening your space. Just the thought of him being close is a bit suffocating and you’re far too aware of him to pretend he’s not around; in fact it’s starting to feel like he’s the only person in the room; everyone else that has filed in is starting to fall away into the background bit by bit.

Eventually, you suck in a deep breath, and decide to harden your heart just enough.

“You can sit there, Izuku, just don’t bother me,” is what comes out of your mouth.

It’s icy cold, especially the way that you call him by his name and not any form of ‘baby’ the way you would have just three months ago, and Izuku visibly deflates in response, but he nods and sits by you anyway per your direction. Despite the larger countenance from his broad shoulders and his athletic hero build, he makes himself as small as possible in the adjacent seat, so as to not upset you.

It’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Thanks.”

You bite your lower lip as you look away, but don’t respond. When you look up, your friend is giving you the two of you an appraising look, but looks away just as quickly, tossing her glance somewhere nonspecific.

A few more moments pass in silence, until it’s time to board.

You can be cordial for a week - you must.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes #mimi writes: romantic getaway

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likelyamused · 2 days ago

Text

A rush. Heat and cold all at once. Like smoldering under a spotlight and getting hit by the droplets of a cold shower. It seizes Max's body in a tense mess.

“Jason. What are you doing here?” Max struggles to regain control of himself. He still manages to keep his voice in check.

“Ah! Is this how you greet an old friend? Where are your manners?” He leans on the side to address Celia directly with a friendly smile. “Hi! I’m Jason. And you are?”

“I’m-”

Max cuts her off, repositioning himself. “I asked you a question. What are you doing here?”

Jason maintains eye contact with Max, but takes a step back. Max is not duped: it's to better pounce. He's testing out Max's reactions. He might have wanted to come across as friendly, but the tightness in his jaw and the slight squint betray him.

“I came to visit one of my cousins about two weeks ago and you cannot imagine my surprise to see you walk by as I was getting a smoke,” chuckles Jason. “I’ve been checking in with what you’ve been up to since then. Honestly, man, you lost your edge if you didn’t notice me on your trail for two weeks!”

Max's face gets hot. Two weeks. He's been followed around for two weeks! His instinct did pick this up, but he was too… comfortable to make sense of it. He let Jason gather two weeks worth of knowledge he can now use to his advantage. What was he able to find out in that time?

“Must have been bored out of your mind.” Max says with a twitchy smirk.

Jason snorts. “It’s been what… six months?” He gives Max a playful thump against his shoulder. “Six months since you’ve disappeared and left us without saying goodbye. You can’t just leave like that, man. We had plans.”

“With how things ended on the last job, I thought it would be best for everyone if I just left. I’m sure you can carry on without me. I came here for a fresh start. I don’t want anything to do with that life anymore.”

The back and forth in Jason's movements are making Max anxious.

“A fresh start? Is that so? A part-time job at Simsmart and living in a trailer are what you aspire to nowadays?”

Max’s breath catches in his throat. Jason’s going to spill out all of his secrets before he gets a chance to. He’ll spoil everything.

That’s not what’s important, though. Jason chose this moment to get himself known for a reason. Max needs his head clear.

“What if it is?”

“Have you been brainwashed?” Jason looks mockingly puzzled. “How can this be enough for you?”

“It’s a start.” Anger, waking from events that occurred months ago, resurfaces again. Jason always thought he knew best what Max needed, robbing him of the right to choose for himself. Max gets impatient. “What do you want, Jason?”

“You’re coming home with me.”

“No. I’m not.”

Jason chuckles again.

“Tell me, Celia, what has my boy here shared with you, hmm?”

Max flinches at Celia’s name. She never told him.

“Did he tell you about his parents? His grandmother, probably. Do you know what he did to afford food and stuff when his parents would blow their social aid cheques on booze every month?”

Celia’s face is an open book. Jason just needs to follow her expressions to know if he's hitting the mark.

“How about me? Did he ever talk about me? No! Then he certainly didn’t tell you about what we got into when shoplifting groceries became a lot of risks for too small a payout. Credit card fraud was pretty good, quick, but it lacked a bit of excitement for me. I enjoyed car theft much more. It's much more of a rush. Our boy here was always really smart about what we'd hit. Stirred us away from getting caught more than once.”

Celia’s eyes skip from Jason to Max, searching for a sign that this isn't true but not finding any.

“Max got scared on our last job and fled. I knew it was out of his element, but he often needs a push in the right direction to do anything, ya know? Auto theft at gunpoint is a little more intense, but damn! We couldn’t miss out on that!”

Max wants to scream “I told you I was against that idea! I never wanted to do it!”, but he holds his tongue. Jason had the habit of recording conversations. He couldn’t incriminate himself so easily.

“Anyway, Max was always good at things that required more... stealth. He likes to observe, be sneaky, slide in, act quickly. I guess it came in handy here too.”

Celia turns to Max, “What is he talking about?”

“Ah! Yes, Max, why don’t you tell her about the old man who leaves envelopes of money for you? What is it? Blackmail? Extortion?... A sugar daddy?”

Max grimaces, “Don’t be stupid!”

Jason hardens, “No, you are if you think either of them really cares about you. Look at her. See the disgust in her eyes from what she just heard about you.”

Max keeps his stance slightly in front of Celia, but he can see her retreat from the corner of his eye. He fears Jason may be right.

“Wait ‘til she learns that this old man is her grandfather! Oups!”

Max snaps. He swings and knocks Jason's jaw. He shouldn’t have done it: Jason’s always been a better fighter than him. It’s too late now. Max moves forward to get another hit in, but Jason recovers enough to hold him and hits him in the diaphragm. Max folds over trying to catch his breath.

When he gets up, Jason is hiding behind Celia, a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry you got caught in this, Celia. You seem like a good girl,” he says in her ear.

Celia looks warily at Jason from the corner of her eye before turning her inquiring gaze toward Max. “Is any of this true?”

Max heart drops. That’s when he notices Jason’s challenging stare. He’s like a dog with a bone: he won’t let go until he gets what he wants, and Celia stands in between. The hand, the apology... she won't get out of this unscathed. Max knows what to do. She’s better off without him anyway.

Max shuts off his emotions as best he can and turns a placid stare toward Celia. “Some… most. I was homeless when you met me. There’s no aunt. I'm currently living in a trailer on your grandfather’s property. I never told him about you and you about him, because… I was just trying to have some fun with you and secure a roof over my head, really.” He chuckles the last words out to hide that his voice was cracking.

Something breaks in Celia’s eyes: her light shatters and leaves sharp splinters aimed at Max’s heart.

“So you just used me… us?” Celia’s chin trembles.

Max can’t breathe. He hopes it doesn't show. “Yes.”

Jason makes a big show of letting go of Celia's shoulder. His eyes glimmer with pride, a familiar expression Max now sees in a different light. This has always been their dynamic, hasn't it? Jason pushes and pushes until the meanest, most vile things come out of him. A while ago, Max would have considered that as a recognition of kindred spirits. Today, he finally sees it for what it is: the satisfaction of having control over him.

“Good to know.” Celia walks away. As she passes beside Max, she turns to him, her voice both soft and searing “Stay away from me, and from my grandfather.”

Max watches her leave with all he wanted to tell her stuck in his throat. What did he just do? Jason joins him with hands in his pockets.

“Max, Max, Max… You really fell hard for this girl. I could tell. Tsk! This is for your own good, and hers too. You two are not from the same world. It wouldn’t have worked. She'd never accept you for who you are, and you'd be stuck, like you always are. You know this, man. Don’t tell me you believed otherwise. Let’s get your things.”

“I’m not leaving with you.”

“Max, you lost the girl. And soon, you’ll lose the trailer too. It’s time to go.”

“Maybe. But I won’t leave with you. I wanted out, I got out and I’m staying out.”

Jason violently grabs Max by the jaw and pulls him up.

“You owe me.”

“I think you were compensated enough when I disappeared without taking my share.”

Jason pushes Max and swings. Max barely evades his blow. He tackles him to the ground and gets a punch in.

Jason topples him over and takes the upper hand. Max takes a pounding, “Hurt me all you want, I’ll always hate you for forcing me into our last job and for destroying everything I built here. You won’t get anything else from me.”

Jason pushes his forearm on Max's throat and gets up. Max braces himself for a kick in the back, but it never comes. When he finally looks over his forearms, he sees Jason walking away with a smoke. Max sits up and tries to keep his heart from spilling out.

Beginning / Previous / Next

#i hate it here #my story: figure it out #oc: maxime girard #oc: celia olivas #oc: jason legault #ts4 story #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr

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chefkids · 19 hours ago

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What are your thoughts on the multiple times Carmen has said “isn’t that what you wanted” to Syd? Is he saying like “bro, this is what you WANTED, I’m trying to give it to you! I don’t get it” or is this a petty “be content with what I give u, cause you asked for it” type of thing?

He's not trying to be petty, he's trying to show her that he's the capable chef she thought he was before meeting him and that he's listening to her and paying attention and that he cares about her, but he can't straight up say he cares about her and feels like she doesn't want to have anything to do with him beyond just cooking, so he tries to show her by doing things for her and shutting off his personality.

But he's ignoring what she wants most from him which is just communication, because he's inept at communicating directly with her and can't even communicate with himself how he actually feels about her.

He was doing things things without her in season 2 because he was scared to get close to her because he did not want to confront his feelings towards her, so it was just easier to avoid her all together. But he still wants her to know that he cares and listens to her so he made her menu drawings and got her the jacket made.

In season 3 he knew he had to physically be there for her so he is trying to give her the star he knows she wants. He has basically given up on being a normal human, because he thinks he's incapable of having any normal relationship. So the only thing he can give her is the chef version of him that he thinks she likes. He knows she was impressed by his stars and accolades so he's trying to give that to her and to prove to her that he is still the same excellent chef she was obsessed with when she first met him.

He gets frustrated when she tries to do things differently because thinks if they do things exactly the way he was taught then he'll get her that star and it will be worth it because she will be happy with it even if she hates him. But she doesn't just want to be handed a star, she wants to be actually seen and heard for what she can do.

Carmy tried to get stars and accolades as a f*ck you to his brother ignoring him and he didn't actually pay much attention to his passion for food and creating something special to obtain it, he just retained stars by following someone else's directions. His blood orange dish that he made is the one time we see him take a risk and put himself into his cooking at that high level, the rest of the time he's on autopilot doing the industry standard cause that dish is not what got him to retain a star.

Sydney doesn't want stars just as an f*ck you. She wants them because she wants people to see and recognize that she can make something special and different that still feels like herself. Carmy scrapped all the personal riskier chaos menu dishes from the end of season 2 because he does not trust them to get them a star, because that's not how he got his. He got close to trying to doing something different and inspired at the end of Season 3 but got scared because he knows Sydney is what inspires him and admitting that to himself is just opening a whole can of worms that he doesn't want to process and face the possibility of rejection from her.

He still has to learn to be open to change and to let Sydney in and listen to what she really wants from him, which is just to be seen and heard and appreciated, in particular by him, which is really why she wants a star in the first place.

#sydcarmy #the bear #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #the bear meta

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scarybabe · 1 day ago

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you've been working with a personal trainer, yeah? i'm in the semi-weird position of both loving large bodies and wanting to be a hardcore fitness professional. is there anything your trainer does to make you feel comfortable in, like, gym spaces and stuff? any modifications or other programming that you've found beneficial as someone who's not necessarily trying to like... slim down as much as possible?

Hell yeah! There’s a lot of things my trainer has done right.

In my consultation with her I was around 250 lbs and I explained that I didn’t want to lose weight or restrict at all, because of my history of that being unhealthy for my brain and she was fully supportive. I explained my history with weight gain to her as objectively as possible and she was the opposite of judgemental - she said she thought it was really cool that I achieved my goal of 300 pounds despite the adversity of getting there instead of making assumptions (and yes I did explain the kink part of it) 🤭

As I started weight training more intensely I did lose more weight, which was frustrating because I had to get my wedding dress altered twice 😭

instead of congratulating me for my weight loss (I was really stressed in the month leading up to the wedding, it was a lot of planning and coordinating and money being spent) she had a very harm reduction mindset, she worked with me on what I could do to slow down the loss and building better habits in my day that could help me meet my nutrition goals easier.

At first I was not very mobile honestly, she had me send her videos of my lifting form and worked with me closely to make sure I wasn’t putting myself at risk for injury and assigned me mobility stretches to do before every weightlifting session (I still do them)!

She created a safe space for me to be honest if something the assigned me was beyond my skill level and never made me feel bad for not being able to complete or do an exercise. It was hard at first not gonna lie! Just the mobility stretches alone used to wipe me out 🤣 I’ve come so far, it’s crazy to think about.

As I got more mobile, she scaled up the difficulty of my mobility stretches and exercises. She’s also increased my nutrition goals a lot since I started training and my appetite is so much better than it was when I first started (I could write a book on how your body has to adapt to transitioning out of hardcore feedism but I’ll save that for another post) 💕

We have weekly check ins where I submit a form that covers all my basic functioning and tell her how my week went, strengths and weaknesses and she replies with a 7-10 min long video addressing everything and explaining any adjustments she’s making to my program, and advising me on whatever I ask her about. She’s also available all week in the coaching app if I need recommendations for pre-rave stretches (for example) or nutrition tips, or help with my form. We have a weekly group call on zoom where myself + her other clients discuss whatever topic she’s covering and share our wins and losses (last week it was “bite size habits”) ☺️ she also has ADHD and is very neurodivergent friendly in her coaching style.

Cost for the program averages out to I think $7-$9 a day? It’s not super cheap but she’s been invaluable to me in terms of staying on track to maintain my weight and gain muscle. If I feel depressed or stressed I can’t eat, and knowing she’s going to be checking to make sure I’m hitting my macros every day is good motivation to just power through on days I’m not feeling up to it. Accountability helps a lot. ❤️

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 12 hours ago

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Hi!! Can I please request a Steve Rogers x fem!reader fic where it kinda goes through different times of their relationship?

Where they met right after Steve came out of the ice (so about year before Loki’s attack on New York), Steve moves into his first apartment since waking up in the 21st Century (I believe he was living in NY🤔) and she’s his next door neighbor and she works at a nearby coffeeshop. They first meet when they’re both walking into their apartment complex and Y/n’s grocery bag breaks and he helps her bring it all inside. They get really close and start dating, and Steve proposes a year later, and Y/n is there when Fury goes to the gym to tell Steve about the tesseract and potential attack (Steve was teaching his fiancée some self defense skills), and Steve takes Y/n with him onto the SHEILD Helicarrier because he feels like she’ll be safer with him due to the potential attack on NY. He’s able to keep her safe throughout the whole ordeal and they get married after NY rebuilds and ofc the Avengers attend. But then fast forward to CA: Winter Soldier, after they’ve moved to DC, when Fury is shot in Steve and Y/n’s apartment (the couple had just come back from a date for their two year wedding anniversary), not only was Fury shot, but Y/n was taken by The Winter Soldier after Y/n had ran past Sharon to follow Steve to make sure he was okay🥺 Steve would be PANICKED. So Y/n is there and tied up when Pierce is asking Bucky about his mission report, and I feel like she would try to get through to Bucky because she knows who he is, but Pierce and Rumlow would definitely be rough with her to shut her up, and she gets experimented on and gets compulsion powers (so she can influence and manipulate the minds of others) and she’s brainwashed like Bucky to help Hydra🥺 As Hydra’s newest, most prized weapon she’d be very well hidden and under lock and key, only let out when Hydra needs to control someone. But after Buck pulls Steve out of the water, he risks himself to go free Y/n, drop her off at the hospital, before going on the run. (The two def bonded after their shared trauma)

Y/n doesn’t speak for weeks after this due to the trauma, until she wanders into the compounds conference room while the Avengers are having a meeting and tearfully asks for her Husband🥺 (and the months after this definitely include the Avengers and her Hubby doting on her)

In Sickness and In Health » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Neighbor!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader with the Avengers

Summary: From neighbors to husband and wife, Steve vows to take care of you like he said in his wedding vows.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (not you and Steve), language, neighbors to lovers, fiancée!Steve/fiancée!reader, husband!Steve/wife!reader, enhanced!reader, HYDRA, choking (nonsexual), kidnapping, violence, crying, hospitals, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the amazingly detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Steve sat at a table outside of a coffee shop drawing in his notebook. He was so focused on his drawings that he didn’t notice you walk over to him at first.

“Sir?” You say.

Steve stops drawing and looks up from his notebook, seeing you standing on the opposite side of the table with a pot of coffee and a cup in your hands.

“Would you like some coffee?” You asked politely.

“Yes please.” Steve replies.

You poured some coffee into the cup and put it on the table in front of him.

“Would you like anything else?” You asked.

“No. I’m good for now. Thank you for the coffee.” He says with a smile.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled back.

You glanced down at his notebook, seeing his drawings.

“Are you an artist?” You curiously asked.

“No. I just like to draw.” He says.

“These are amazing.” You complimented.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled. “I have to get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” You say.

Steve nods. He watches you walk away, going back to work. As he watched you ask customers if they needed anything, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. He smiles to himself before going back to what he was drawing.

Later that day, Steve took the train home. As he was walking to his apartment, he noticed you trying to unlock your apartment while holding a couple grocery bags in your hands. He felt bad for you when one of the bags broke and some of your groceries fell on the floor. You groaned in frustration. Steve, being the gentleman he is, helped you.

“Thank you so much.” You say as he picked up the groceries that fell on the floor.

“You’re welcome.” Steve replies with a smile.

You unlocked your apartment and walked inside. Steve followed you inside, closing the door behind him. You and him put the groceries on the kitchen counter.

“You’re a life saver.” You smiled.

“That’s what neighbors are for.” He smiles back.

Steve immediately realized that you’re the waitress from the coffee shop who complimented his drawings.

“You’re the waitress at that coffee shop, right?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

“Who would’ve guessed that we’re next door neighbors.” He smiles.

“I know right.” You smiled back. “It’s like we were destined to meet.” You say.

Steve smiles and nods in agreement.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” Steve asks nervously.

“I would love to.” You replied with a smile. “I have the day off on Saturday. We can do something then if you want.” You say.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles. “I’ll see you Saturday afternoon.” He says.

“See you then.” You say.

Steve left your apartment, letting you attend to your groceries. He went to his own apartment. Nervousness and excitement coursed through Steve’s veins. He’s looking forward to Saturday and so are you.

———

You and Steve went on a few dates before making it official. Steve asked you to move in with him a few months into yours and his relationship, which you happily agreed to do. He allowed you to decorate yours and his apartment to your liking. You and Steve actually have the same taste in decorations, which made the decorating process easier for the both of you.

Steve has been ring shopping while you decorated the apartment. When he found the perfect ring for you, he just needed to decide when he was going to propose to you. He decided to propose to you a year into yours and his relationship, which is just around the corner. The anticipation of proposing to you was killing him. He wanted to propose to you right the day he bought the ring.

When the day of Steve proposing to you finally came, excitement coursed through his veins. He made sure everything was perfect. He woke you up with your favorite breakfast. Then the two of you went sightseeing. After dinner at your favorite restaurant, you and him took a walk in the park to enjoy the sunset.

“The sunset is so beautiful. Don’t you think, baby?” You say, admiring the colors of the sunset.

“It is, but you’re even more beautiful.” Steve says.

You couldn’t help but blush. No matter how long you and Steve have been dating, he always knows how to make you blush.

“Can I ask you an important question, sweetheart?” He asks nervously.

“Of course you can, babe.” You replied softly.

You watched as Steve got down on one knee. He took a small velvet box out of his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you’ve ever seen. You gasped and tears filled your eyes.

“I wasn’t sure how to adjust to life after coming out of the ice. You made it easier for me the day we met. I can’t imagine my life without you, sweetheart. Will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” Steve asks.

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, Stevie!” You answered happily, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks.

Steve smiles widely and slid the ring on your finger. He stood upright and kissed you passionately.

“I love you so much, honey.” He whispers.

“I love you more, baby.” You whispered back.

———

“You’re doing great, sweetheart!” Steve praises you.

Steve took you to the gym to teach you self defense skills. You accidentally punched him a couple times. Not hard, but it was an accident.

“Turn around for this one, honey.” He instructs.

You turned around, facing the opposite direction as your fiancée.

“Pretend I’m a stranger for this one, ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You replied.

“Now, what are you going to do if someone tries to attack you from behind?” He asks, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You grabbed his arm and used all of your strength to flip him over your shoulder and onto the floor. You’re pretty sure that Steve made it easy for you. Either way, it surprised both of you when you did that.

“I never thought I would see Captain America get flipped by a woman.” Fury jokes as he walks in the gym.

Steve stood up, standing next to you and brushed the dirt off his clothes.

“This is my fiancée Y/N. Y/N, this is Director Nick Fury.” Steve introduces you two.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” You smiled, shaking his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Fury says. “I need to talk to your fiancée about something important. You can stay if you want.” He says.

You nodded. You weren’t sure what Steve and Fury were talking about. Whatever it is, it sounds important. Fury handed Steve a file folder. Steve opened it, seeing a picture of the tesseract, making his jaw clench.

“I’m sure you want to keep your fiancée safe so she can come with you.” Fury says.

Steve agrees to that.

You went on the helicarrier with Steve. It’s way different than the last plane you were on. It looks like a small office and it’s cool. You and Steve also met the team who’s going to be fighting in the mission with him.

“We have to go over the plan for the mission. It shouldn’t take long.” Steve says.

“Ok.” You pecked his lips softly. “I’m going to sit over there.” You say, pointing at an empty desk.

Steve nods and kissed you before you walked away. During the meeting with the Avengers, Steve took glances at you every now and then. You smiled at him when he did so. He smiles back at you. When it came time to take down Loki, Steve made sure you were safe and sound on the helicarrier. You gave him a good luck kiss and you two told each other that you love each other before he went with the Avengers to take Loki down.

———

A few months after Loki’s attack on New York, you and Steve finally got married. You guys became good friends with the Avengers and invited them to yours and his wedding. Everything was perfect for you and Steve. Everyone teared up from how beautiful the wedding.

The dancing was one of your favorite parts of yours and his wedding. Steve taught you how to dance a week before the wedding. It was the basic swaying in each other’s arms, which you love. You gazed up at your husband with the look of love and adoration on your face. Steve gazes down at you with the same look on his face.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart.” Steve softly compliments.

“You look so handsome, baby.” You softly complimented back.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers.” He whispers.

“I love you too, Mr. Rogers.” You whispered back.

Steve kisses you softly and sweetly. You two smiled against each other’s lips.

———

“That Italian restaurant gets even more amazing every time we eat out there. We should eat out there more often.” You say with a smile.

“They are amazing.” Steve agrees and smiles.

Today is yours and Steve’s two year wedding anniversary. Everything about today was perfect. Steve woke you up with your favorite breakfast and bouquet of flowers. Then you two went out to lunch. To conclude the evening, you two went out to dinner at yours and his favorite Italian restaurant.

“Hi, neighbors!” Sharon greets you two as she walks out of her apartment.

“Hi, Sharon.” You and Steve greet her back.

“From the smiles on your faces, it looks like you two enjoyed your night.” She says.

“We did.” You say.

“Well, don’t let me keep you from continuing your romantic night.” She says. “Oh, by the way, I think you guys may have left a radio on or something in your apartment.” She adds before walking away.

Yours and Steve’s furrowed in confusion. You two always make sure everything is off in yours and his apartment before you guys leave to go anywhere. Steve unlocked the door and you two walked inside cautiously. He picked up his shield that was propped against the wall and held it in front of him. He gently pushed you behind him to shield you. You two walked to the living room to see Fury sitting in the living room. It looks like he got into a fight with someone from the injures he has.

“Are you ok?” You softly asked Fury.

“Yea, I’m fine.” Fury says.

“Are you sure? I can get you an ice pack or something.” You offered.

“It’s ok. Thank you for offering.” He says.

Fury held his phone up, which said he was being followed by someone. Instead of telling Steve, he made something up so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As the story Fury made up continued, a bullet came through the window, making you scream. Steve shielded the two of you from the shattered glass that flew all over the living room. You and Steve looked at Fury, seeing that he got shot. Steve knew what he had to do. Chase down the person who shot Fury, who happened to be the Winter Soldier.

“Hide somewhere and I’ll find you, ok?” Steve says.

You nodded and ran to yours and his bedroom, hiding in the back of the closet behind a couple stacked storage containers. Meanwhile, Steve ran after the Winter Soldier and ended up on the roof. He was running away from him. He threw his shield at him. The Winter Soldier caught it with his metal hand and stared Steve down for a second before throwing back at him. He caught it and looked at it with a shocked look on his face.

The Winter Soldier went back to yours and Steve’s apartment without being seen by anyone. He climbed up the fire escape that took him to the window of yours and Steve’s bedroom. He opened the window and climbed through it. You could hear footsteps in the bedroom. It wasn’t Steve’s footsteps. Your heart thudded against your chest. You covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Suddenly, the closet door opened. The Winter Soldier scanned the closet, knowing you’re in there. He could hear your breathing coming from behind the two storage containers you were hiding behind. He moved them out of the away to get access to you. You screamed and ran past him. You didn’t get far. The Winter Soldier grabbed you and slammed you against wall. He then wrapped his metal hand around your throat, choking you till you passed out.

Steve went back to yours and his apartment to check on you. He looked all over the apartment for you, but couldn’t find you. That’s when he seen the window open in yours and his bedroom. He ran over to the window and looked out of it. His eyes went wide and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he realized that the Winter Soldier took his wife.

“This can’t be happening.” Steve says shakily to himself.

Steve got a call from Natasha, telling him that Fury is in the hospital. He made his way to the hospital to check on Fury while trying to figure out where the Winter Soldier might’ve taken you. Steve’s mind was all over the place. He’s beyond scared for you.

“Why was Fury in yours and Y/N’s apartment?” Natasha asks Steve.

“I don’t know.” Steve answers quietly.

“Are you ok?” She asks softly.

“He took my wife.” He says, his eyes tearing up.

“Who took her?” She asks.

“I don’t know, but he had a metal arm.” He says.

Natasha knew who Steve was talking about when he mentioned the metal arm.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I think I might know who took Y/N.” Natasha says quietly.

Steve looks around, seeing some people around the two of them. He gently ushered her into a storage closet so they can talk privately.

“Who is the guy with the metal arm?” Steve asks in a demanding voice.

“He’s credited with dozens of assassinations in the last 50 years. They call him the Winter Soldier.” Natasha explains.

“How do you know about him?” He asks curiously.

“I had a run in with him on a mission once.” She says, lifting her shirt to show him the scar on her lower abdomen.

Steve looks at her scar. Fear was coursing through his veins. Now, he’s thinking that the Winter Soldier might do to you like what he did to Natasha.

———

Meanwhile, you woke up in an unfamiliar room. You weren’t sure where you were. You looked around the room, trying to gather your surroundings. You got off the small bed you were laying on and walked around the room, trying to figure out where you might be. You walked over to the door and started hitting it and pounding on it with your hands.

“Hello! Is anybody out there?” You shouted. “I know someone called hear me!” You shouted again.

You then laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A few minutes go by when the door opens. You sat up to see a man dressed in all black tactical gear.

“Get up.” The HYDRA agent orders.

You didn’t dare to move a muscle. You sat there and stared at him. The HYDRA agent walks over to you and grabbed your arm with a bruising grip and roughly pulled you out from the bed. He led you out of the room and to a different room. The room he took you to looked like some kind of lab. He forced you to sit down in a chair and he strapped your arms and legs down with restraints. You weren’t the only one in there. You seen the Winter Soldier sitting across from you. You stared at him for a moment. You recognized the Winter Soldier as your husband’s best friend Bucky Barnes from the pictures Steve has showed you.

“Are you Bucky?” You asked curiously.

Everyone who was in the room went silent. The Winter Soldier stared at you for a few seconds before answering you.

“Yes.” Bucky answers.

“Do you remember your best friend Steve Rogers?” You asked.

“Yes.” He answers again.

“I’m his wife. He told me all about you.” You say.

Bucky’s eyes went wide, realizing that he kidnapped his best friend’s wife when he was in Winter Soldier mode.

“That’s enough talking.” Pierce says.

You completely ignored what Pierce said and continued talking to Bucky.

“I can help you.” You say softly, almost whispering.

You can tell by the look on his face that he wants you to help him. It wouldn’t get either of you far if HYDRA has control over one of you, soon to be both of you.

“Do you ever shut the hell up?” Brock asks.

Bucky’s jaw clenched when Brock said that to you.

“I’m trying to help him!” You say.

Brock leaned down to your level, his face close to yours.

“You can’t help him or even yourself in here, can you, Mrs. Rogers?” He says.

“Steve will come save me and Bucky. He’ll see what you guys did to his best friend.” You say, trying to sound intimidating.

“You keep telling yourself that.” He says.

Brock stood upright. Pierce motioned Brock over to him. He whispered something to him that you couldn’t make out. He nodded and walks over to you, undoing the restraints off your arms and legs. You took the opportunity to jumped out of the chair and attempted to run away from them, which was a huge mistake on your part, because every HYDRA agent in the room pointed their guns at you, making you stop and freeze in place.

“Nice try, Mrs. Rogers.” Brock says.

Brock grabbed your arm with a bruising grip, leading you out of the room and took you to a different room. He forcefully made you sit down in the chair and put restraints on your arms and legs once again. He left the room after that. A few minutes later, a man in a white lab coat walks in the room with a tray with stuff on it. He placed it down on the table next to you. You looked at the stuff on the tray, your eyes widening when you seen a needle. That’s when all the pain and trauma began…

———

It felt like forever to Steve since the Winter Soldier kidnapped you last night. Steve was thinking the worst. On top of all of that, he also found out that his best friend is alive. He was staring off in the distance, his eyes red from crying. Natasha and Sam were doing everything they can to help him.

“It’s going to be alright, man.” Sam says, putting a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“He looked at me and didn’t even recognize me.” Steve says.

Steve knows what he has to do now. Take down HYDRA, attempt to get through to his best friend, and get his wife back.

———

Steve is now standing on the helicarrier across from the Winter Soldier.

“Please don’t make me do this, Buck.” Steve pleads softly.

The Winter Soldier stared at him without saying a word. Steve sighs to himself, not wanting to fight his best friend, but he has no choice.

During the fight, Steve was doing everything he could to get through to Bucky, but nothing seems to be working.

“You’re my mission.” The Winter Soldier growls.

“Then finish it.” Steve said. “Cause I’m with you till the end of the line. Tell Y/N I love her.” He says.

The Winter Soldier stared at Steve with wide eyes and lowered his fist when he said your name. That’s when the ground gave out under the two Super Soldiers. The Winter Soldier held onto a metal bar with his metal hand as he watched Steve fall into the water below. He then let go of the bar, falling into the water. He grabbed onto Steve and pulled him out of the water. He stared at him for a second before running to the HYDRA base you’re at. He has to get you out of that hell hole.

Bucky opened your cell door to see you laying on the small bed. He walked over to you and picked you up. He got you out of there as fast as he could. He took you to the hospital to get you medical attention. He even wrote Steve a note explaining everything and apologizing. He gave it to a nurse to give to Steve before getting the hell out of there.

Meanwhile, Steve was in the hospital himself. Sam sat next to his bedside. Steve woke up to music softly playing. He looked over to see Sam. He gave him a smile. The nurse walked in the room a few minutes later with the nurse Bucky gave her.

“Good! You’re awake!” The nurse smiles. “A man told me to give you this after bringing in a woman.” She says, handing Steve the note.

Steve took the note from her and read it. He quickly recognized Bucky’s handwriting. Sam didn’t miss the way Steve shifted in the bed.

“Who’s the letter from?” Sam curiously asks.

“Bucky.” Steve replies. “He apologized for everything that happened and he brought Y/N here.” He says.

Steve got out of bed and went to the nurses station to find out what hospital room you’re in. Sam followed him.

“What room is Y/N Rogers in?” Steve asks.

“I can’t give you that information unless you’re related to the patient.” The nurse says.

“I’m her husband.” He tells her.

“She’s in room 2314 down the hall.” She tells him.

Steve nods and walks straight to your hospital room with Sam following next to him. You were sleeping when they walked in the room.

“Can I help you gentleman?” The nurse who was checking your vitals asks Steve and Sam.

“I’m her husband.” Steve tells her. “How is she?” He asks.

“She’s fine. She’s just resting.” She says.

The nurse left the room and Steve sat down in the chair next to your hospital bed. He seen scars and bruises on your arms where HYDRA poked and prodded you. Steve reached a hand toward your hand, holding your hand in his. Your eyes fluttered open a few minutes later. You squinted your eyes, adjusting to the light in the hospital room. You looked over to see your husband sitting next to the bed. You thought you were hallucinating for a second.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Steve says softly and smiles.

You didn’t say anything. You opened your arms for a hug, which he happily gave you.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks.

You shook your head no. Steve frowns when you didn’t say a word to him yet.

“Did HYDRA do something her vocal cords?” Sam asks.

“I hope not.” Steve says. “Honey, can you speak?” He asks.

You nodded your head yes.

“Can you talk for me please?” He asks softly.

You shook your head no. That’s when Sam got an idea. He excused himself and went to the gift shop to buy you something that’ll help both you and Steve. He came back a few minutes later.

“This might help.” Sam says, handing you a plastic bag.

You opened the bag to see a notebook and a pen. You took the two items out of the bag and opened the notebook, writing something in it.

“How did you get injured?” You wrote.

“I had a run in with the Winter Soldier.” Steve tells you.

“Your friend Bucky?” You wrote.

Steve nods.

“Bucky helped me.” You wrote.

“I know he did, sweetheart. He’s the one who brought you here.” He says softly.

You frowned when you realized that Bucky wasn’t in the room.

“Where is he?” You wrote.

“He went on the run. I don’t know where he went.” He says.

You looked down, tapping the pen against the notebook. You’re happy that you’re with your husband again, but you’re sad that Bucky isn’t there.

“It’ll be ok, sweetheart.” Steve gently turns your head toward him so you were looking him in his eyes. “When we get out of here, I’ll take care of you. Like I said in my wedding vows. In sickness and in health, remember?” He says softly.

You smiled and nodded. Steve smiles back and leans over to kiss you softly.

———

Weeks later, you’re still not talking. When Steve or any of the Avengers is talking to you, you write down a response in a notebook and show it to them. Sometimes, you respond by nodding your head yes or no. It helps knowing your husband is right next to you when you have nightmares. Steve stood by his wedding vows. He’s taking care of you in sickness and in health.

As of right now, you were wandering around the compound and found yourself on the same floor as the conference room. You seen Steve in there with the Avengers. You didn’t want to interrupt their meeting, but you wanted your husband. You opened the door and walked in the conference room. Everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to you.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just want my-my husband.” You say with tears in your eyes.

Sam told Steve that he’ll update him when the meeting is over. Steve stood up from his chair and attended to you.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Steve asks softly once you guys were in the hallway.

“I was lonely.” You say, your bottom lip quivering.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him. You feel safe in his arms.

“You’re safe now.” Steve murmurs softly.

Hearing those words makes you feel even more safe.

“Let’s go lay down.” He says softly.

You nodded. Steve led you to yours and his bedroom. You two laid down on the bed and turned the TV on and put your favorite show on.

“I love you, Stevie.” You say quietly, looking up at him.

“I love you too, honey.” Steve says softly.

Steve pecks your lips softly. Hearing your voice again made him happy. He’ll do anything and everything to take care of you. Just like he said in his wedding vows, in sickness and in health.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

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yunholic-jongholic · 9 hours ago

Text

Snuggle Season | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | You are on your period and your boyfriend Jongho comes to comfort you for the day.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | 16+? (Idk...)

CONTENT WARNINGS | Mentions of Period, Reader on her Period, Mood Swings, Cramping, Light Cursing (Not as bad), Softie Boyfriend!Jongho,

WORD COUNT | 7.6k

AUTHOR NOTE | This is for me and the girlies who suffer bad periods and want just Jongho to cuddle them :( Nothing but fluff in this one shot. :3c I will tell y'all right now, as someone who is on her month right now. I cried writing this LMFAO.

•

You woke up in the afternoon—slept in again, unintentionally. It didn’t take long before it hit you… that time of the month had arrived.

Great.

With an annoyed sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, determined to shower and salvage some productivity from the day.

You got your clothes ready and went to take a shower.

Afterwards, wrapped in the lingering warmth of the water, the idea of going out suddenly felt… exhausting. Honestly, staying in and just being lazy sounded way more appealing today.

So, you slipped into your comfiest clothes—soft, oversized, and still carrying that fresh laundry scent—then curled up in bed beneath a blanket that clung to a hint of yesterday’s warmth. The soft patter of rain against the window felt like the world was whispering, it’s okay to rest.

You let out a quiet sigh as the familiar ache of cramps started to settle in. Curling into yourself, you tried to get comfortable again when your phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand.

With a tired groan, you reached over and picked it up, the screen lighting up with Jongho’s name.

You answered, and his warm voice greeted you on the other end.

“Hey, babe. You, okay?”

You gave a soft hum in response, your voice a little quieter than usual. “Mmm… not really. Cramps are kicking my ass today.”

There was a short pause on his end before he spoke again, gentler this time. “Ah, I had a feeling. You sounded a little off.”

You could practically hear the concern in his tone, that familiar blend of worry and affection.

“Do you want me to come over? I can bring snacks, a heating pad, maybe even risk my life by picking the wrong brand of chocolate again,” he teased lightly, trying to make you smile.

Despite the discomfort, you let out a quiet laugh, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“That does sound tempting,” you murmured. “Especially the snacks.”

“Say no more. I’m on my way,” he said, already moving around in the background. “Text me if you think of anything else you want, okay?”

“Okay… thank you.”

“Always.”

You ended the call feeling just a little lighter, your phone resting beside you again as you nestled deeper into the blankets, comforted by the thought of Jongho on his way.

The steady sound of rain kept you company, soft and soothing against the windows. After a few quiet moments, you sighed and peeled yourself out of bed, shuffling to the door to unlock it for him. Then it was straight back to your cocoon of warmth, where your blanket welcomed you like an old friend.

It wasn’t long before a gentle knock echoed from the front door—followed by the sound of it opening.

“Babe?” Jongho’s voice floated through the apartment.

“In here,” you called softly.

He appeared in your doorway a few seconds later, balancing three overstuffed bags like some kind of cozy-day delivery hero. Without a word, he dropped them on your bed beside you and sat down with a little exhale, brushing his fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“I may have gone a little overboard,” he said with a small grin.

You peeked into the bags—chocolate, heating pads, painkillers, your favorite snacks, and even a little stuffed animal. Your heart melted a little.

He soon slipped off his rain jacket, revealing the bear-print pajamas he’d clearly been wearing all day underneath. The sight made you smile instantly. Before sitting down, he pulled the hoodie over his head, the oversized hood making him look like a sleepy little forest creature.

You reached for him with a small laugh, pulling him closer until he was within kissing range. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured.

He grinned, cheeks tinting just slightly. “You’re just saying that because I brought chocolate.”

“Maybe,” you teased, resting your head against his shoulder.

“So…” he said after a pause, stretching out and letting his legs sprawl across the bed, clearly settling in for the long haul. “Do you wanna watch TV or something?”

You nodded, already reaching for the remote. “Only if we can cuddle while we do it.”

“Obviously,” he smirked. “That was always part of the plan.”

You turned on the TV and handed him the remote with a little smile. “Surprise me today.”

He took it with a mock-serious nod, settling in beside you as you grabbed the painkillers and downed them quickly. With one hand, you already tore into the chocolate, unwrapping a piece and popping it into your mouth like it was the cure to all the world's problems.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, scrolling through the options.

You watched him browse for a bit—until he hovered a little too long over a scary movie thumbnail.

Your eyes narrowed. “No.”

He grinned. “C’mon, babe. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m serious. No.” But the look in your eyes only made him smirk harder.

With zero hesitation, he clicked it anyway. The ominous music started playing immediately, and you groaned as you sat up, reaching for the remote.

“Don’t worry,” he teased, holding it out of your reach like a villain. “I’ll protect you, babe.”

“Oh my god, give it!” you laughed, playfully swatting at him as you climbed over his lap trying to wrestle it back. He held it away, laughing along with you as the two of you fell into a lighthearted game of tug-of-war with the remote.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said between giggles, still trying to grab it.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he grinned.

He grinned mischievously before gently plopping you back down beside him, sliding the remote behind his back like it was top-secret intel.

You huffed, lightly smacking his chest. “Jongho!”

He burst out laughing at your dramatic squeal, clearly loving every second of messing with you.

“Alright, alright,” he said through his laughter, finally fishing out the remote and handing it over.

You snatched it with an exaggerated glare, rolling your eyes as you muttered something under your breath about gremlins in bear pajamas. With righteous satisfaction, you scrolled past the horror section and put on a lighthearted rom-com instead—something cozy, funny, and just the right amount of cheesy.

Satisfied, you nestled into Jongho’s arms as he wrapped them snugly around you, pulling you in close. His hoodie was soft and warm, and the rhythmic beat of his heart under your cheek was enough to lull you into comfort.

You reached for the chocolate again, popping another piece into your mouth as you settled into the safety of the moment—cramps and all, this was your kind of peace.

As the movie played, the two of you lay there wrapped up in warmth and each other. A cheesy line echoed from the TV, something dramatic like “I’d cross the universe just to see your smile.”

You snorted. “Wow. He really just said that.”

Jongho chuckled, resting his chin lightly on your head. “You don’t want me to say stuff like that to you?”

You looked up at him with a smirk. “If you said it, I’d think you hit your head.”

He feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Wow. So you’re saying I’m not romantic?”

“I’m saying you’re more of a ‘Here, I brought you snacks and stole your blanket’ type of romantic.”

He grinned. “Guilty. But hey, actions speak louder than overused space metaphors.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Fair enough. You’re my favorite kind of romantic anyway.”

He beamed at that, tightening his arms around you just a little.

Another overly dramatic scene played out on screen, and he whispered, “You think if I started reciting monologues like that, you’d swoon?”

You gave him a look. “You’d trip over the first sentence.”

“Probably,” he said with a soft laugh. “But I’d trip with passion.”

You shook your head, smiling as you snuggled back into him. “Dork.”

“Your dork.”

The movie kept rolling, full of cliché misunderstandings and grand romantic gestures, but somehow it just worked—especially with Jongho’s steady warmth wrapped around you and the rain still pattering softly outside.

At one point, the main couple on screen kissed under a perfectly timed fireworks display. You both blinked at the scene.

“That’s so unrealistic,” you muttered, grabbing another piece of chocolate. “Fireworks don’t just show up when you’re having a moment.”

Jongho shrugged. “Maybe they would if you had a bigger budget.”

You giggled. “Oh, so that’s why we’ve never kissed under fireworks.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours with a lazy smile. “We could make it happen. Just need a lighter, some sparklers, and maybe no fire safety laws.”

You gasped dramatically. “Jongho!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughed, holding up his hands. “No laws will be broken in the name of love… probably.”

You both fell into soft laughter again, your bodies pressed close beneath the blankets. Somewhere between scenes, your fingers found his and laced together naturally, like muscle memory.

Eventually, the movie dipped into a quiet montage, and your eyes felt heavier. The chocolate was nearly gone, your cramps were slightly more bearable, and Jongho’s steady breathing beside you made you feel like the world could stop spinning for a while—and you wouldn’t mind at all.

He looked down at you and whispered, “Feeling any better?”

You nodded; eyes still half-closed. “Yeah… thanks to you.”

“Good,” he said, brushing his thumb over your hand. “That’s my job.”

The movie ended, the credits rolling quietly in the background, casting a soft glow across the room. You didn’t bother turning it off. Neither of you moved, tangled up in warmth, the world outside still whispering with rain.

Jongho shifted slightly, just enough to glance down at you. “You still awake?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, barely.

“Can I ask you something?”

You opened your eyes a little, just enough to meet his. “You can ask me anything.”

He paused for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Do you ever think about the future? Like… where we’ll be? What we’ll be doing?”

You blinked slowly, not expecting that—but not surprised either. Jongho had a quiet way of opening up in the dark, when everything felt a little more real.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Sometimes I think about that a lot.”

He smiled softly. “What do you see?”

You took a breath, letting your head rest fully against his chest. “I see… lazy mornings. Matching pajamas. You still stealing my blankets. Maybe a tiny apartment with too many pillows and plants. And us—still doing this. Still choosing each other.”

Jongho was quiet for a moment, like he was holding onto every word.

“I like that,” he said finally. “That sounds… really good.”

You looked up at him. “What do you see?”

He looked down at you, eyes gentle. “Same. Just… you. Always you. No matter where or what.”

Your heart swelled a little, and you reached up to brush your fingers along his jaw. “You’re such a softie.”

“Only for you,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

The room fell quiet again, the kind of silence that felt safe and full. You both laid there for a while, speaking now and then in sleepy whispers, until eventually, words faded, and dreams took over—two hearts beating slow and steady beneath the weight of shared warmth.

About an hour later, you stirred. Your stomach gave a quiet protest, reminding you that chocolate wasn’t exactly dinner. You rubbed your eyes, blinking into the dim light of the room, then looked over at Jongho.

He was completely out, arms still wrapped tightly around you, one leg shamelessly stealing most of the blanket. His cheek was squished slightly against the pillow, mouth parted just a bit. Peaceful. Adorable. Slightly blanket-thieving.

You reached out and gently poked his cheek. “Babe…”

No response.

You poked again, a little firmer this time. “I’m hungry.”

This time, his eyes fluttered open just a sliver. He looked at you, bleary and half-dreaming, voice low and raspy. “Already?”

“Yes. My stomach is literally staging a protest,” you whispered, dramatically placing your hand over your belly.

He closed his eyes again like he was about to drift right back off. “Mm. Just… eat more chocolate.”

You gasped. “Jongho.”

He let out a tired chuckle, eyes still closed. “Okay, okay. Give me like… three minutes. Or carry me to the kitchen.”

You laughed softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Now move, or I will take your card and order takeout—for myself only.”

That earned a dramatic groan as he finally began to sit up, dragging the blanket with him like a reluctant little burrito. “Don’t waste all my money,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

You snickered, already grabbing your phone. “Too late.” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully as you opened your food delivery app.

He squinted at you, clearly betrayed. “You’re actually doing it?”

“Yup,” you said with a grin, scrolling through options. “Gonna get the good stuff, too. Extra sides. Maybe a dessert. All for me.”

Jongho flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “This is how I die. Starved. Wallet empty. Betrayed by love.”

You giggled, poking his side. “You can still save yourself. Get up and help me order food?”

He peeked up at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hmm… will there be noodles?”

“There will be whatever your sleepy heart desires.”

That got him moving—slowly, but with purpose. “Alright, fine. Let’s order before you add a second dessert.”

You grinned. “Too late.”

Jongho groaned in fake defeat, but finally sat up properly. You handed him your phone so he could order something for himself too. He scrolled lazily, adding a few things to the cart before placing the order with a sleepy flourish.

“Boom. Nourishment on the way,” he said, dropping your phone back onto the bed.

While you waited, you flopped down across his lap with a content sigh, snuggling into him without hesitation. Your arms wrapped around his waist, and your face found the perfect spot against his chest.

“You’re so soft,” you murmured, practically melting into him. “Why don’t you wear this every time you come over?”

Jongho let out a little laugh, resting his hand on your back. “Because if I did, you’d never let me leave.”

“Exactly,” you hummed, nuzzling deeper into the plush fabric of his bear-print pajamas. “You get it now.”

He chuckled, his fingers tracing gentle patterns across your back. “You just love me for the pajamas, huh?”

You looked up at him with a mock-serious face. “Don’t be silly. It’s the whole package. But the pajamas definitely secure your spot as the world’s most huggable boyfriend.”

He smirked, clearly pleased. “Good. I’m honored.”

You stayed there in silence for a while, tangled up in warmth and soft fabric, your breathing syncing with his, the wait for food becoming less important than just… this.

Just as you were about to drift off again in the safety of his arms, the doorbell rang, followed by the telltale buzz of the delivery arriving.

Jongho groaned dramatically. “Nooo, don’t make me move.”

You chuckled against his chest. “You're the one who ordered food too, remember?”

He sighed, his hand still lazily rubbing your back. “I regret everything.”

With a playful push, you sat up. “C’mon, we suffer together.”

He grumbled, but eventually peeled himself off the bed, heading to the door. You trailed behind, grabbing his hoodie and throwing it over you.

He returned triumphantly with two warm bags in his hands, a sleepy grin on his face. “Behold—our feast.”

“Oooh,” you cooed, eyes lighting up as the smell hit you. “Bless the delivery gods.”

You both settled on the couch with the food spread out between you—ramen, dumplings, some crispy chicken, and a sweet dessert you definitely didn’t need but definitely wanted.

As you both started eating, you nudged him playfully with your knee. “See? Nighttime kitchen date vibes, no effort required.”

Jongho smiled, mouth full. “This is better. You, me, food, pajamas. Perfect night.”

You raised your drink in a tiny toast. “To soft bear boys and stolen desserts.”

He clinked his bottle lightly against yours. “And to you stealing my heart and my hoodie.”

You grinned. “Get used to it.”

After the food was devoured, the wrappers crumpled, and your bellies were happily full, the two of you returned to the bedroom in a quiet, satisfied daze. Jongho flopped onto the bed first, limbs spread out like a starfish.

You followed, dragging the blanket with you as you climbed in beside him, immediately curling into his side like it was second nature.

“Okay,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder, “next time I say I want to go out, remind me that nights like this exist.”

He smiled, fingers brushing lazily through your hair. “Deal. I like when you stay in like this… with me.”

A peaceful silence settled between you, broken only by the soft hum of the rain still tapping at the window. Your hands found his again, fingers intertwining easily.

“Do you ever think about… like, us moving in together?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and sleepy.

Jongho turned his head a little, looking down at you. “All the time.”

You blinked, surprised by how quickly he answered.

“I already know what drawer you’d steal,” he continued with a little smile. “You’d fill the fridge with too much iced coffee and hoard all the fluffy socks. But… I think I’d love that.”

You felt your heart flutter, warmth blooming in your chest.

“Would we fight over the blanket?” you asked, lifting a brow playfully.

He smirked. “Obviously. But I’d let you win. Most of the time.”

“Most?” you teased.

“Hey, I need at least a corner,” he laughed.

You buried your face into his chest again, grinning. “I’d give you two.”

“Generous,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

A yawn escaped you as your eyes started to grow heavy again. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

He pulled you closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. You’re mine too.”

And just like that, under dim lights and the soft rhythm of falling rain, you drifted off in his arms—full, warm, safe, and completely loved.

---

Morning sunlight peeked in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the air quiet and still, like the world was holding its breath just for the two of you.

You stirred first, blinking slowly as you adjusted to the light. Your body was wrapped in warmth—arms around your waist, legs tangled with yours, and the familiar sound of Jongho’s soft breathing right next to your ear.

You smiled sleepily, taking in the way his hair was a little messy, how his brows were relaxed, peaceful in a way that made your chest ache a little in the best way.

You shifted just enough to face him, brushing your fingers lightly along his jaw. He stirred a bit, then cracked one eye open.

“Mmm… morning,” he rasped, voice low and sleepy.

“Morning,” you whispered back, nose barely brushing his. “You snored.”

He let out a lazy laugh. “Lies.”

“Truth. I have audio evidence,” you teased.

He groaned and buried his face in your neck. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you said smugly, stroking his hair. “You wanna sleep more or get breakfast?”

He stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling into your skin, “Can we just stay like this? Like... ten more minutes?”

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm of his breathing lull you again. “Ten minutes.”

But both of you knew you’d stay like that for much longer wrapped up in morning stillness, in each other, with nowhere else to be.

Until the ache returned.

You shifted with a quiet whimper, curling into yourself as the cramps made their unwelcome comeback. The warmth and softness of the moment faded just slightly under the pressure in your lower stomach, and you let out a soft groan.

Jongho immediately stirred, his senses tuned to you even in half-sleep. He sat up a little, brushing your hair back gently. “You alright? Do you need more medicine?”

You nodded softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… they’re back.”

He was already climbing out of bed without hesitation, stretching his arms with a small yawn before padding over to your bag and rummaging through it for the painkillers. He returned with them in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, sitting back down beside you.

“Here,” he murmured, helping you sit up enough to take them. You swallowed the pills and sipped the water slowly, leaning into his side as he held the bottle steady.

He wrapped his arms around you gently after, tucking your head under his chin. “We’ll just rest a little longer. I’ll be your human heating pad again.”

You chuckled weakly against his chest. “Best heating pad ever.”

He kissed the top of your head. “That’s right. Comes with hugs, snacks, and amazing singing voice. Limited edition.”

You sighed, settling into him again. Even through the discomfort, having him there made it all feel manageable. Safe.

“I really love you, you know,” you murmured.

He smiled, pressing his cheek to your hair. “I know. I love you more.”

----------------

A little while later, once the meds started to ease the pain and you felt steady enough to move, Jongho gently helped you out of bed. You still wore the blanket around your shoulders like a cape, and he tossed you a knowing smile.

“You look like a sleepy queen,” he teased, reaching for your hand.

You smirked. “Then make me a royal breakfast, peasant.”

He gasped dramatically. “The disrespect,” he said, but still bowed low before leading you toward the kitchen.

The morning light poured softly through the windows, filling the space with a golden warmth. It smelled like quiet—like home. You sat at the small table, pulling the blanket tighter around you, while Jongho got to work at the stove, humming under his breath.

You watched him from your spot—barefoot in his bear pajamas, hair still a little messy, moving around like he’d done this a hundred times. Maybe he had.

He peeked over his shoulder. “Toast, eggs, and fruit, okay?”

“Perfect,” you said softly, resting your chin in your hands.

A few minutes later, he brought over two plates. Simple, but warm and made with love. He even sliced the strawberries into hearts—badly, but the intention made you melt.

You grinned, picking one up. “These are definitely trying to be hearts.”

He chuckled. “They’re emotionally accurate.”

You both ate slowly, savoring the calm between bites. No rush. No background noise. Just the occasional clink of forks and the soft brush of his foot nudging yours under the table.

When he caught you staring at him mid-bite, he tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said with a sleepy smile. “Just… I like mornings with you.”

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Good. Because you’re getting a lot more of them.”

After finishing breakfast, the two of you sat there for a while longer, basking in the sunlight spilling across the table. Neither of you made a move to clean up just yet. There was no rush. No plans. Just the quiet, comforting presence of each other.

Jongho stretched with a low groan, arms reaching toward the ceiling before collapsing dramatically back into his chair. “Okay, I vote we do absolutely nothing productive today.”

You raised a brow. “Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he confirmed. “Except maybe snacks. And cuddles. And binge-watching shows we’ve already seen three times.”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed with a fake-serious look. “And if the world ends while we’re lying on the couch watching reruns?”

He shrugged with a grin. “At least we’ll go out wrapped in a blanket burrito together.”

You laughed, already imagining how the rest of the day would go. “Fine. Lazy day officially approved.”

The two of you cleaned up the dishes at a snail’s pace—playful bickering over who washed and who dried, ending with you both flicking soap bubbles at each other like children.

Once the kitchen was clear, it was straight back to the couch. You claimed your usual corner, and Jongho joined you with the blanket and a bowl of snacks. You flipped through streaming services before settling on an old favorite—the kind of show where you could quote every line, but it never stopped being comforting.

He wrapped an arm around you as you curled up into his side again, warm and safe. The world outside moved on, but your little bubble stayed still.

Between episodes, you talked about everything and nothing—dream vacations, what kind of pets you’d have one day, and what your “dream couch” would look like if you ever moved in together.

Eventually, his fingers started absentmindedly combing through your hair, and your eyelids grew heavier with each slow, rhythmic pass.

“You falling asleep?” he asked softly, his voice like a warm breeze.

“Mmm… maybe,” you mumbled, the tiniest smile playing on your lips. “Maybe singing will help me stay awake.”

He sighed, knowing full well you were already halfway to dreamland. But he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, his fingers kept their slow, soothing pattern, and after a moment, he started to sing—softly, just above a whisper.

It was one of your favorites. A quiet love song, something gentle and nostalgic, the kind of melody that wrapped around your heart like a blanket. His voice was low and warm, slightly raspy from sleep, but full of emotion.

You didn’t say anything—you couldn’t. You were already sinking, breath slowing, heart softening with every note. His chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, his voice vibrating gently against you like a lullaby made just for this moment.

By the time he reached the end of the second verse, your breathing had deepened, steady and peaceful. You were asleep, fully and completely, wrapped in his arms with a tiny smile still on your face.

Jongho looked down at you and let out the softest chuckle, brushing his fingers lightly across your cheek.

“Yeah,” he whispered, still holding you close. “That’s what I thought.”

He adjusted the blanket around you, kissed your forehead, and pulled you in a little tighter—his voice fading into hums as he let the rest of the day pass by with you, right there where you belonged.

The sky outside had shifted from bright morning light to that soft, golden hue that only came in the early evening—like the sun was trying to say goodbye as gently as possible.

You stirred a little, slowly waking in the quiet hush of the living room. The soft glow from the setting sun spilled across the floor, catching in the folds of the blanket still wrapped around you.

Jongho was still there, arms cradling you, his chin resting lightly on your head as he scrolled through his phone with one hand. He noticed your little shift instantly.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice warm like everything else around you. “How was your nap?”

You yawned, eyes barely open as you tilted your head to look at him. “Perfect. You didn’t move.”

“Of course not,” he said, brushing a thumb gently along your arm. “You were too comfortable.”

You sat up slowly, stretching your arms and blinking into the amber light. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven,” he replied. “The sky’s putting on a show for us.”

You turned toward the window, catching the soft pinks and oranges bleeding across the horizon. “Wow… it’s pretty.”

He stood and held out a hand. “Come watch it with me from the balcony?”

You took it, letting him guide you out. The cool air kissed your skin, but he pulled you close, wrapping the blanket around both your shoulders as you leaned against the railing together.

No words were needed for a few minutes. Just the quiet of the city winding down, the birds calling out somewhere far away, and the shared silence of two people completely at peace.

After a while, he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.

“You know,” he said softly, “I could do this every day. Just… us. Lazy mornings. Quiet evenings. Everything in between.”

You smiled, fingers curling into his hoodie. “Me too.”

And as the last bit of sunlight dipped beneath the skyline, the two of you stood there—wrapped in warmth, wrapped in love—already dreaming about doing it all over again tomorrow.

Jongho let out a small sigh, voice low against the hush of evening. “I should probably get going soon… I’ve got work in the morning.”

Your face immediately dropped, and you tightened your arms around him like a koala. “Nooo…” you whined, clinging to him dramatically. “Just stay forever. Call in sick. Say you’ve been trapped by a very persuasive blanket monster.”

He chuckled, burying his face into your shoulder. “Tempting. Very tempting. I don’t think my boss would buy it, though.”

“She clearly lacks imagination,” you mumbled into his hoodie. “Or a heart.”

Jongho pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair gently behind your ear. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m off. Maybe bring dinner?”

Your pout softened. “Promise?”

He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Promise. Same time tomorrow. Bear pajamas and all.”

You sighed, still reluctant but slowly letting go, your arms lingering around his waist. “Okay… but I’m making you take the leftover snacks as emotional compensation.”

“I accept,” he said with a grin, grabbing the bag with a dramatic bow. “Payment received. Heart slightly less shattered.”

You walked him to the door, still wrapped in the blanket, watching as he put on his shoes with exaggerated slowness.

“Text me when you get home,” you said.

He looked up and nodded. “You know I will.”

And with one last soft kiss, he stepped out into the night, leaving the door just a little ajar—like a promise he’d be back soon.

You stood there for a moment in the quiet, hugging the blanket closer. And though you missed him already, your heart felt full.

But once you stepped back inside, the warmth started to fade. The cramps crept in again, dull and stubborn, and your body just couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore. You made your way straight to bed, gathering your snacks like little emotional lifelines, and climbed under the covers without a second thought.

You tried to distract yourself, maybe scroll on your phone or open a show again—but the loneliness settled in faster than you expected. The ache wasn’t just physical—it was that sudden, hollow feeling of missing someone the second they’re gone, even if they were just there.

Tears started to prick at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Damn, I hate my month,” you muttered, voice shaky. You pulled the plushie Jongho had given you into your arms, clutching it tight against your chest. It still smelled like him.

You didn’t want to cry. You really didn’t. But the combo of pain, hormones, and missing him cracked you open just enough.

Then your phone buzzed.

Seconds later, your phone started to ring.

You answered without hesitation, already hearing Jongho’s voice on the other end—his tone animated and buzzing with excitement.

“You won’t believe it!” he blurted.

You sat up slightly, wincing as the cramps flared again, clutching a pillow to your stomach for a little comfort. Your voice came out tired, but you tried your best to sound engaged. “What…”

There was a pause—just long enough for you to hear the smile in his voice. “Right as I got home, my manager called. Someone offered to trade shifts with me. I’m off tomorrow.”

You blinked, processing. “…Wait. Seriously?”

He couldn’t hold in his laugh anymore. “Dead serious.”

Your heart skipped, and you immediately whined through the phone. “Then what are you doing?! Come back!”

“I’m already halfway into my hoodie again,” he teased. “Was just waiting for you to say it.”

You buried your face into the pillow with a muffled squeal. “Hurry up. I’m dying.”

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he said gently. “Blanket burrito prep ready?”

You smiled through the ache, relief washing over you. “I never unwrapped.”

“Perfect. Your emotional support bear is on the way.”

He hung up, and you stared at your phone for a second, heart swelling. Despite the pain, despite the tears—you suddenly felt so much lighter.

You whispered to your plushie, “Knew it, your father wouldn’t leave me like that.”

And sure enough, barely fifteen minutes later, the door quietly opened again—and there he was, hoodie slightly crooked, hair wind-tossed, arms full of snacks and an extra heating pad.

“Reporting for snuggle duty,” he said with a sleepy grin.

“Great,” you mumbled, already pulling him toward the bed like he belonged there—because he did. “You’re not allowed to leave me again. You’re locked and trapped in here until snuggle season is over.”

Jongho laughed as he climbed in, letting you tug him into your arms like a giant teddy bear. “Snuggle season is year-round, babe. Guess I live here now.”

“Exactly,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You gently intertwined your fingers with his, both of your hands resting comfortably between you. The tension in your body was already melting away—his presence, his warmth, grounding you completely.

He hummed softly, content. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly to look down at you. “I can go pick us up food if you want… or try to cook something.”

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering closed as you held onto him a little tighter. “Mmm… tempting, but you just got back. Let’s just stay like this for a little bit.”

“I can work with that,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand.

And so, you stayed wrapped up together in that warm, quiet moment—no rush, no plans, just soft breaths and steady hearts, safe in each other’s arms as the night gently folded in around you.

After a few quiet minutes of cozy silence, your stomach grumbled just loud enough to make you both laugh softly. You sat up and poked Jongho’s cheek with intention.

“I’m hungry now,” you declared, eyes locked on him with faux seriousness. “I crave chicken.”

He blinked up at you from where he was still laying, voice soft and amused. “Fried chicken?”

You nodded eagerly; your energy suddenly very real. “Yes. Extra crispy. Extra juicy. Maybe spicy.”

He sighed with a small, fond smile, already reaching for his phone. “I knew peace wouldn’t last long.”

You beamed. “Chicken cravings never sleep.”

Jongho sat up slowly, groaning dramatically like a man on a noble mission. “I’ll go pick it up.”

You watched as he stood, slipping his shoes back on and grabbing his hoodie from where he left it. “You sure? I can come with you.”

He looked over his shoulder, already pulling the hood up. “Nope. You stay warm. Blanket queen duties. I’ll return with treasure.”

You giggled, flopping back into bed dramatically. “Bring back enough for both of us and maybe dessert and also maybe your undying loyalty.”

And with that, he slipped out the door again, hoodie-clad and boyfriend-of-the-year, ready to conquer the chicken gods—for you.

Left in the warm quiet of your room, you grabbed your phone and flopped back against the pillows, opening YouTube for a bit of comfort scrolling. You quickly spiraled into a collection of chaotic cat videos—tiny paws knocking over expensive vases, dramatic leaps ending in disaster, cats yowling at cucumbers like they’d seen a ghost. The laughter was exactly what you needed.

After a few videos (and a few giggles), you glanced at the time and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh. The cramps had dulled a bit, and you could feel your skin starting to crave that clean, refreshed feeling.

You stood up and padded toward the bathroom, deciding a quick shower would do the trick—something about washing off the heaviness of the day, even if it had been filled with love and chicken cravings.

The water was warm and soothing, wrapping around you like a soft reset. You let it wash over your shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it all go—the pain, the frustration, the stress. It was just you, the sound of the water, and the comfort of knowing someone who loved you was out picking up your favorite meal.

You stepped out of the shower feeling lighter, wrapping yourself in a towel and moving slowly back to your room, already smelling faint hints of soap and calm. You changed into clean pajamas, fluffier socks, and threw your hair up messily, still damp but cozy.

Just as you flopped back onto your bed, Jongho texted you telling you he got the stuff, and he was at the door.

The second he stepped in, the smell of crispy, golden fried chicken filled the air, and your stomach growled like it was announcing his arrival.

He walked into the room like a hero returning from battle, carrying the sacred bags of food and setting them down triumphantly on your bed.

“Thank you!” you beamed, immediately reaching for the warm box of chicken and sides. You opened it up with reverence—crispy pieces, golden fries, dipping sauces, everything your heart and soul needed in that moment.

But then—betrayal.

Your eyes caught the sight of something else in his hands. A chicken sandwich. You blinked. “Hey! You didn’t offer me one!”

He looked at you, feigning innocence. “You wanted normal chicken!”

“That’s not the point!” you gasped, dramatically pointing at the sandwich like it personally offended you.

He smirked and took a bite right in front of you. “Mmm. Delicious.”

You gave him your best playful glare, narrowed eyes and everything. Then, without warning, you pounced—tackling him down into the blankets, reaching for the sandwich like it was a prize in a survival game.

“You got a whole box! Ten pieces!” you shouted, laughing. “I just want a bite!”

“I only got one sandwich!” he laughed back, trying to hold it out of your reach as you climbed over him, grabbing his arm and leaning in, mouth open and ready.

“I will fight you for it, Jongho.”

“You’re already fighting me!” he cried out, half-laughing, half-dramatic. “This is a betrayal of peace!”

You managed a quick bite before he twisted away, groaning like you’d mortally wounded him.

“Mmm,” you said, chewing slowly. “That’s so good. Thanks for sharing, babe.”

“You’re a menace,” he muttered, flopping back with a dramatic sigh.

“And yet you love me.”

He looked up at you with a tired grin. “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

After the dramatic battle of the sandwich came to a truce (with you getting one more smug bite), the two of you finally sat up, breathless and giggling.

“Okay, okay,” Jongho said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye from laughing so hard. “Truce. No more food wars.”

You held up your pinky. “Pinky promise.”

He linked his with yours. “Until the next time you eye my fries.”

“No promises there,” you grinned.

You both finally focused on the feast in front of you—steaming pieces of crispy chicken, golden fries, coleslaw, dipping sauces, and drinks that had already started to sweat from the condensation.

The room quieted down except for the soft rustle of wrappers and the occasional mmm of pure fried chicken satisfaction. You both sat cross-legged on the bed, passing sauces back and forth, trading bites here and there, and just enjoying the calm after the storm.

“This is dangerously good,” you mumbled, licking a bit of sauce off your finger. “I might cry again, but for totally different reasons.”

“Cramps who?” Jongho teased, sipping his drink. “Chicken heals all.”

You nodded solemnly. “Amen.”

He looked at you as you happily munched on a fry and smiled, eyes soft. “You look really cute right now, by the way.”

You paused mid-bite. “Covered in crumbs and sitting in a pile of napkins?”

“Exactly my type,” he said with a wink.

You leaned over and kissed his cheek again. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

“You are right, what would you do without me.” he said, poking your side.

The rest of the meal passed in peaceful silence, soft laughs here and there, your legs bumping under the blankets as the warmth of the food settled in. The chaos faded. The pain dulled. And all that was left was the cozy contentment of being full—of food, of love, of the kind of comfort that only comes from being with your person.

“Do you have the games I left here when I stayed over last week? I want to play,” Jongho asked, already getting up and poking around your movie shelf like a man on a mission.

“Maybe,” you said, voice muffled as you cozied deeper into the blanket pile. “They might still be on the desk; I haven’t really been up and productive this last week.”

He turned, one brow raised. “Wow. You just started your period and you’ve been lazy this entire week?”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Excuse me?!”

He grinned at you with that smug, teasing expression, and that was all it took—you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it directly at his face.

“You take that back!” you cried dramatically, already reaching for a second one.

The first pillow hit him squarely in the chest. He caught it with a laugh, holding it like a trophy. “I’m just saying! Some people run marathons before their period. You turned into a blanket burrito for five days straight!”

“I am the marathon!” you shouted, launching the second pillow with pinpoint accuracy. “A marathon of feelings and cravings!”

He dodged it with a playful jump, hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay! I yield! I take it back!”

You flopped back into your mountain of blankets, huffing like a queen who just won a war.

“That’s what I thought,” you mumbled, grabbing a piece of leftover chicken like a victory snack.

Jongho laughed, shaking his head as he finally found the game case sitting on your desk. “Alright, lazy legend. Let’s see if your gaming skills are better than your aim.”

You smirked. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to losing your sandwich rights again.”

He popped the game into the console, grinning. “Fair warning—if I win, I’m taking the rest of your fries.”

“Oh, it’s on, chicken thief.” You launched another pillow with zero hesitation.

“You’re the chicken thief!” Jongho shouted back, dodging as he grabbed a pillow and hurled it right back at you.

It hit you with a soft whump, and you squealed, laughter bubbling out of you as you ducked behind your blanket like it was a shield.

“Well, you should’ve bought me one!” you shot back, tossing the pillow again with all the dramatic flair of someone defending their honor.

But this time, Jongho was ready.

He caught it mid-air with an impressive one-handed grab, eyes gleaming with mock triumph. “That’s it.”

“No, no, wait—” you giggled, already trying to scramble back—but it was too late.

With a playful growl, he tackled you gently onto the bed, pressing the pillow over you before flopping down right on top of you like a giant, smug weighted blanket.

“Victory!” he declared, fully laying across you, pinning you down with exaggerated drama.

You laughed so hard you could barely breathe, squirming beneath him. “You’re so heavy!”

“It’s not weight, it’s dominance,” he said proudly, grinning down at you.

“You are such a menace,” you huffed, still giggling as your hands tried to push him off.

He finally shifted just enough to look at you, brushing a bit of hair from your face, his grin softening into something gentler. “And you love me anyway.”

You gave him your most playful eye-roll… then smiled up at him, breathless. “Unfortunately.”

He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose. “Lucky me.”

As Jongho finally rolled off of you, both of you still catching your breath from the laughter and chaos, the room settled again into that familiar, comfortable quiet.

Without needing to say anything, he pulled you close, and you naturally curled into his side, your head resting against his chest, legs tangled together beneath the blankets.

His hand found yours again, fingers slipping into place like they were made to be there. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and let out a peaceful sigh.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the warmth of his hoodie, the comfort of being home—not the physical place, but the person.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Jongho didn’t answer right away. He just held you a little tighter.

“Me too,” he finally said. “And maybe… one day, it will be.”

You smiled softly, heart full, letting that thought linger in the air between you—warm, hopeful, and real.

No more words were needed. Just the two of you, wrapped in each other, in laughter, in love—and in the quiet wish that moments like this would never end.

•

A/N: So, I cried writing this :( I love this man so much. I know he is more "stoic" but let me dream here. 😭

#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #jongho fanfic #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho scenarios #jongho fluff #jongho #jongho soft hours #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts #ateez fic #ateez jongho #ateez scenario

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jeremiahhawkinsfanfics · 2 days ago

Text

JAYCE TRIPS ON VIKTOR’S CORSET AFTER SLEEPING TOGETHER 🩱😬🦶

Because one bed trope is also about waking up in the morning 😏

Read the whole fic on AO3

The distant bell of the Piltover clock tower rang the seventh hour of the day. Jayce slipped out of the sheets and sat on the bed, being careful not to wake Viktor – even though he knew all too well that it was almost impossible.

He stretched, savoring the feeling of his muscles coming back to life after a long night of sleep. He wouldn’t dare to imagine how terrible it would be if they still slept on their desks, let alone for Viktor.

He located the clothes he’d tossed on the floor the night before and spared a look at his partner’s worktable. It was the promise of brilliant notes on their next prototype that excited him.

But first things first: breakfast.

As he made his way to the door, shoes in hand to be as quiet as possible, his feet suddenly got caught in something heavy.

He tripped and fell to the floor with all his weight, an awful crash of curses and falling metal exploding through the silent lab. The floor greeted Jayce’s face with a loud and painful thud.

“Sakra kurva!”

Brutally awakened, Viktor jumped on the mattress, a hand pressed to his chest to keep his heart from escaping his ribcage. His eyes frantically searched for the source of the noise. “Jayce?! What the fuck are you doing?! You scared me half to death!”

“Ouch… What on Runetarra have I tripped on?”

Jayce mumbled some apologies. He awkwardly got up, finally identifying the culprit responsible for his fall. With rising shame reddening his ears, he realized he had tripped on Viktor’s spinal corset. And, seeing the angry look in his partner’s eyes as he followed his gaze, Jayce could tell he wasn’t happy about it.

“Oh, by Janna, is it too much to ask to be careful with this?” Viktor snapped, his accent curling even more strongly around his words in anger. “I can’t afford to have it broken.”

“Sorry Vik, I… I just didn’t see it” Jayce said, immediately kneeling to gather the brace and thoroughly checking he did not cause any damage.

The corset was heavy – much heavier than Jayce had anticipated. “That must be painful to wear…” he thought, while making sure the strong metal buckles and tight leather straps were intact. They looked worn from repeated use, but they hadn’t been damaged by the shock. A slight relief relaxed his shoulders, but it did little to soothe the guilt burning in his face.

“Do not worry,” Viktor sighed, slipping his long legs out from under the covers and rubbing his tired face with his hands. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left it on the floor. I’ll put it against the wall next time.”

“No, really, sorry, Vik! I should have been more careful where I stepped. It doesn’t seem to have been damaged, but if you notice anything, let me know. I’m happy to help you fix it. And… sorry for waking you up. I was just going to grab breakfast. Go back to sleep, I’ll bring it back – it’s on me.”

Viktor shook his head.

“I really don’t think I could go back to sleep after such a scare. No, I’d better come with you, if you don’t mind waiting for me a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?”

Jayce was actually glad he could bring Viktor breakfast – just as much to make up for the accident as to soothe his own guilt. Risking damaging the medical equipment of a disabled friend wasn’t something he took lightly, and he truly hoped Viktor wouldn’t think less of him for the mishap.

“Yes, a little walk won’t hurt” Viktor concluded as he reached for his corset.

“Need help?” Jayce risked. This sounded like the only thing he could offer.

“I can put it myself” Viktor replied, his tone casual but firm. Jayce searched his expression for any trace of anger or reproach, but found none. It wasn’t enough to soothe him, though.

“I… I know. I just… want to make it up for tripping on it”.

Viktor looked at him with a mixed expression, somewhere between annoyance and endearment. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if considering the unknown implications of letting Jayce help him. After several long seconds, he sighed heavily, giving up to Jayce’s pleading look.

“If it can help you feel better” he resigned. “And quit those puppy eyes”.

A repentant smile spread across Jayce’s lips. He kneeled close to his partner and carefully took the corset in his hands. It was nothing like the women’s corsets he had seen, full of ribbons and laces, the ones in magazines he used to hide under his mattress. No, this looked more like an instrument of torture, with all its bolts, metal clutches, and complex tightening mechanisms.

“If you can make sure it aligns with the screws, that would help. That’s usually the part I struggle with. I’ll take care of closing it,” Viktor said, his voice low, as if embarrassed to let someone else put the corset on him. That may have been the case, but Jayce’s attention was drawn to something completely different.

“The… the screws?” he thought.

He got the answer to his question when Viktor slowly turned his back to him. Jayce’s mouth fell open in shock. Shining in the faint first beams of the sun, metal screws were deeply anchored into Viktor’s spine, directly within his vertebras, surrounded by long, pinkish scars. He had slept next to Viktor many times but had never noticed this—maybe because his partner was usually curled under the blanket when he woke up in the mornings. This was definitely not the work of a piltovian surgeon. The screws were solid, made to last, but with little regard for aesthetics, judging by the uneven scars that clawed Viktor’s back. This must have been excruciating to set up… to a point Jayce would rather not think too much about. The contrast between the harsh, utilitarian work was all the more jarring on Viktor’s delicate frame. It clashed unforgivingly with his pale shoulders, speckled with light freckles, his delicate nape where a playful beauty mark sat, and his sharp yet fragile-looking shoulder blades. A strange feeling stirred in Jayce—a feeling he couldn’t quite name; it was as if he had just discovered a butcher had shattered a beautiful work of art.

“Are you helping or staring?”

Viktor’s voice, harder than usual, snapped him back to the task at hand.

“Sorry I… I didn’t mean to…” Jayce quickly replied, focusing on wrapping the heavy leather corset around Viktor’s slender torso. It felt like caging a delicate bird.

“It’s alright, Jayce. I understand. I imagine it’s hard not to stare,” Viktor replied. His tone could have seemed neutral to anyone, but not to Jayce. By now, he knew Viktor well enough to recognize the dark undertone in his words. He focused on the task Viktor had assigned to him, carefully aligning each screw with the spinal corset until he heard a faint “click”.

“Is it ok like that?” he asked.

Viktor curved his back to check, then nodded as he started tightening the straps and setting the buckles.

“Does… does it hurt?” Jayce dared to ask.

“The corset or the screws?”.

“Well, both.”

“The corset is more… uncomfortable than painful. As for the screws, well… it’s not constant pain more like… reminders. If I push myself too hard, or if the weather is especially bad”. Viktor’s shoulders stiffen, clearly not used to discussing the topic so openly. “All very inconvenient, yet very much necessary”.

“Necessary?”

“A bad leg implies a lot of problems when you grow up – especially spinal issues. Just the corset wasn’t enough; growth completely wrecked my spine during my teenage years. It’s a side effect of constant uneven balance. It took the screws, and several years of wearing this corset day and night, tightening it a little more every week, for me to stand straight again”.

“It looks like… a heavy procedure”.

“It is. Heavy, painful and costly”.

“Could your family afford that?”.

An ironic snort choked Viktor’s throat. There was something cruel in this aborted laugh.

“Of course not. There are people in the undercity you go to when you can’t afford a real doctor – when you don’t really have a better choice. I was lucky enough that a… friend of mine - at the time I could have called him a mentor – was one of them”.

“And your parents? What did they think of this?”

Viktor froze, his shoulders stiffening noticeably. From behind him, Jayce could see his jaw clench so hard a vein became visible on his neck. His partner turned to him, his amber eyes expressing a feigned, studied casualness. But behind that apparent gaze, there was something dark that Jayce could discern but not identify—like the blurry contours of a distant image, some deeply buried truths.

“You should shave before we go grab breakfast.” Viktor said with a fake casual tone. “You look terrible”.

The topic of family was clearly off-limits.