#saying this as a person who isn’t white either

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[physalian]

Character Types: The “Fixer”

Oh look it’s another chance to bring exposure to casual traumas in real people thinly disguised as writing advice heyyyyy

The “Fixer” is the character who puts everyone else before themselves, but isn’t quite so self-destructive as the jaded loner—this person’s whole schtick is that everyone else’s needs and emotions come first, which will usually end up with them behaving and appearing very extroverted, fun, and kind.

They have no idea they’re doing it, either, and see nothing wrong with their behavior or what logic there is in saving a little slice of the pie for themselves. They’re not self-loathers or angsty abusers and if there are parts of themselves that they don’t like, they probably think of these aspects as “what can you do? Oh well” with zero motivation to exercise their demons, because they don't see them as demons but something they deserve to suffer with.

Or, they know exactly what they’re doing and cannot see the merit at all in themselves deserving a piece of the pie, as if they’re inherently lesser than everyone around them for Reasons they cannot articulate, Reasons that, if their friends or loved ones share the exact same traits, they’d bend over backwards and make excuses for. They have normalized their existence that there’s nothing left to angst over. “I am lesser” is just. A statement of fact.

These characters come in several flavors:

The parental figure (possibly single) or “mature” one in the family who’s always prepared, always has the big backpack with bandaids and wet-naps, probably the first to say “we’re family, all’s forgiven” in effort to keep the peace.  They’re the person who literally eats last or not at all, even when conserving food isn’t necessary, usually with the smallest, now-cold serving. Also can be the parentified sibling.

The person in a romantic relationship doing a whole lot more giving than receiving, whether it’s physically or emotionally, insisting that they’re fine, that their partner need not go out of their way to do XYZ for them, but is incredibly in tune with anything and everything that their partner might need. They’re likely to be in an abusive relationship, either emotionally or physically, or both, because a sensible partner who loves Fixer as much as the Fixer loves them wouldn’t let Fixer get away with an unfair share of back-breaking emotional labor. The abuser takes full advantage of it and laughs when they’re not looking.

The “mom” of the hero team/friend group, similar to the actual parental figure, but in this dynamic, everyone’s about the same age. The Fixer probably isn’t the leader, but second or third in command, as they don’t think themselves capable of making the Big Decisions and prefer running support. They take the most cramped bedroom, the most undesirable odd jobs, and do far more than their share of the chores and other tasks, probably without the rest of the group realizing it until something happens to them. No one asks this of them, they automatically assume this is their burden and don’t even think to suggest equal shares.

Alternate case:

They’re the “leader” because no one else wants to do the job, pretending to be way less stressed than they are and habitually protecting their team from the worst of it with little white lies, to the point where no one has any idea how much they’re suffering in silence until they eventually break. As opposed to a properly communicative leader who regularly delegates important tasks and is very transparent in all their decisions. They might also be the leader because they don’t think anyone else in their team could perform as well under pressure, pressure they’ve been under their whole life.

I actually wrote two of these, the Original, and then the Original Who Went to Therapy, between two different WIPs.

Original was the second in command of a plucky space crew in the sci-fi WIP I always mention, who was very versatile and OP and thus took it upon himself to take the lion’s share of the work around the ship because he could do it quickly and delegating the tasks to the rest of the crew was, to him, objectively pointless. He was also an empath with an ability he couldn’t turn off, literally stuck doing the emotional labor far and above normal human conditions.

He was a firm believer in “if I can, I must” and repeatedly put himself in dangerous situations because he’s the only one who could escape them alive, and to not act would be selfish, and above all else, he feared looking selfish. This all came to a head when Magical Shenanigans ensued and his own powers turned against him, stressing him to the point of his body going “we are taking a Break” and he got bedridden until he learned how to talk about his feelings and let people in.

While he was sick, him Not Being There for when the rest of the plot carried on without him meant that  his team very badly felt his absence because he did so much without them realizing it, and they did not handle it well, picking a different character to shovel all the labor onto, until they too overstrained themselves, and an intervention was necessary.

He was the friendliest character of the team to their newest member, their only cheerleader when the whole rest of his team was skeptical. He was also quite desperate for validation and approval, to the point where he made a bunch of little white lies that quickly caught up with him, pretending to be something he’s not so people would like him.

—

When I ripped the above character out of that WIP and tossed him and another character into Eternal Night, he got an upgrade and a whole bunch of therapy.

Enter Dorian. The main difference between these two is that Dorian can actually stand up for himself and establish boundaries, and got a friend/girlfriend who went “I can fix him” and actually did. He’s still very much a Fixer with a Martyr complex, a vampire who only turned to make sure the people he was stuck with held up their end of a deal and did not expect to keep living after the deal was done…for about three hundred and fifty more years.

This is a character who was a parentified Fixer, sixteen years older than his oopsie little sibling, and did not handle it well when they were separated. He’s very obvious to everyone who knows him, especially when those people have known him for centuries, and know “yeah give that one a little kid to protect and he will predictably fall on his own stake”.

One of his love interests (he’s poly), the “I can fix him” girlfriend, is not at all afraid to call him out on his martyr bullshit, or when he’s bending over backwards trying to save people who don’t want to be saved, or risking his own sanity, health, and reputation for people who insist they don’t want his help.

I specifically designed and introduced Kymiria to look and act like a stereotypically jealous mean girl who doesn’t want to share her man with the protagonist. Except. She’s right. About everything. She knows Dorian extremely well and got him through some awful shit and isn’t about to stand by and watch him break himself again for someone who she thinks doesn’t deserve him (and she’s also right on that point). How she goes about protecting him is totally different.

But for the mortals who live with his coven, he’s the most popular vampire around and the favorite by all the children for a country mile. No one who hasn’t been living with him for decades has any idea that there’s anything traumatic behind his smiles.

—

I like writing Fixer characters because I don’t get to see enough of them. They’re not as popular as the Angsty Sad Boy and certainly not as popular as My Trauma Excuses My Aggression Boy. People who have suffered tend to fall on either end of two extremes: Either they continue the cycle of hate and abuse or they make absolutely certain no one in their life will ever suffer what they did. I like writing and reading the latter, particularly when they're men as most “fixers” we think of emphasize “womanly” traits of kindness and nurturing.

These characters are also their own worst enemies. Their inability to treat themselves as deserving of respect and forgive themselves continuously gets them into sticky situations that they wouldn’t be in if they were just a little bit more willing to put their own needs first.

—

If you're interested in reading my take on Fixers in a bona fide novel, check out Eternal Night of the Northern Sky!

[musicalmoritz]

Why does tsukasa seem to not care much about himself?

I had a hard time figuring out what you meant by this because to be honest, I don’t focus on the Yugi twins as much as some of the other characters. I still try to read analyses on them and understand them, and I have been talking a lot abt Tsukasa lately, but I haven’t rly grasped their characterization as quickly as I did with some of the others

However, after giving it some thought I believe you’re referring to scenes like these

If this is what you mean, then the explanation is that Tsukasa simply doesn’t want to exist. He is a yorishiro and existence for them is essentially hell, just look at what Sumire went through being stuck in a time loop for 100 years. It is not a reach to assume Tsukasa went through something similar, seeing as he alludes to being trapped in a place before escaping near the start of the series when we first meet him. He reached out to Hanako for years, but Hanako never answered any of his calls. So Tsukasa wanting to be destroyed isn’t really out of any self-sacrificial nature, it would be a peaceful ending for him. He’d be able to move onto the afterlife, or otherwise accomplish any conniving goals he might have with the entity (idk as I said, not a Yugi twins expert)

He views Hanako as selfish for wanting to hold onto the people he loves at the expense of their wellbeing. Part of Nene’e fate is to die young, it’s sad but that is the natural path her life is meant to follow. She herself even tries to come to terms with this and make peace with it, but Hanako won’t let her. He loves her, so he wants her to live a long and happy life. This is completely understandable, but it is also selfish. It is part of human nature to be selfish, and part of Hanako will always be tied to the human boy he once was. Selfishness isn’t always bad, sometimes it’s necessary. But from’s Tsukasa’s perspective, Hanako is robbing Nene of an escape

Tsukasa makes this a personal issue because Hanako treats him the same way. It would be objectively better and more natural for him to let Tsukasa go, especially if the theories abt him killing Tsukasa to free him from the entity are true. That is what Tsukasa wants, to be free, to no longer be a yorishiro. But Hanako is selfish, and he loves Tsukasa too much to grant him freedom

Now, if you’re talking about Tsukasa’s lack of self-care in regards to Hanako “hating” him, that’s a bit different

Tsukasa seems to conceptualize relationships in a very black and white way. You either love someone, or you hate them. He’s interested mainly in how other people feel and react to things, so he’s constantly asking them how they feel about others. I don’t think he differentiates much between platonic love and romantic, it is simply “love vs. hate” to him. The two are opposites and cannot intersect

The most genuine statement I could possibly make about Tsukasa is that he loves his brother. Both versions of him, no matter how you interpret his current existence. The possessed Tsukasa we know now is the one who grew up with Amane, he spent ten years of his life with him whilst Baby Tsukasa only knew Amane for three. Ofc that was still his brother so time isn’t rly relevant to how much love/attachment Amane still holds for the original version of Tsukasa, but that doesn’t change the fact that the brother he knew for most of his life was the possessed Tsukasa. They shared holidays and birthdays together, lived together, walked to school together every single day. Through and through, they are brothers and it would be impossible for Hanako not to see him that way, even if he claims not to. It must be a complicated situation for him, on one hand he grew up with this Tsukasa but on the other he blames this Tsukasa for the old one’s disappearance

Back to how Tsukasa feels, he loves Amane fully. He does describe them as rivals, so I would say the feelings are complex on his end as well, but overall he loves his brother. He loves his brother so much that he doesn’t care if Amane hates him. And he must, he threw him across the room once when they were kids when Tsukasa was bothering him. He knew something was off when Tsukasa returned, and his attitude towards him likely reflected that throughout the 10 years they spent together. He killed him, he freezes up when he sees him, he consistently sides against him. For a character that views love in black and white terms, that sure looks a lot like hate. He recognizes that Amane is sad without him, but he also understands that Amane hates him. At least, from Tsukasa’s perspective, that’s what it looks like

But Tsukasa’s love for Amane is unconditional, he doesn’t really care if Amane hates or loves him. Baby Tsukasa says he wants Amane to be an astronaut with their parents, somewhere far away from him so Tsukasa can never make him upset. He believes Amane hates him, but he doesn’t care as long as Amane is happy. That’s all he wants, for Amane to be happy. His brother is the most important person to him, as long as Amane is happy he doesn’t care what happens to himself. Until it reaches a breaking point ofc, and Tsukasa realizes that the best situation for everyone would be for him to disappear

I’m pulling a lot of this out of my ass so I apologize if I got any information incorrect! Also just to be clear I don’t mind being asked about the Yugi twins at all, people were asking me a lot about Tsukasa yesterday so I get why the questions keep coming. Just beware that I am a self-proclaimed Not Expert lol. I do plan to look more into them whenever I start that series of character analyses tho so stay tuned for that

[waifspiration]

“i love sylvia plath!!!” she would’ve hated u lol ur not white 🩷

[just-rogi]

.

[ehhlien]

I feel like everyone on Tumblr is pro Lestat and anti Louis and everyone on Twitter is pro Louis (and Claudia) and anti Lestat 🤕

And I know that’s not necessarily true but god it definitely feels this way.. can’t praise Lestat on Twitter without getting called a white supremacist, and I can’t go three minutes on Tumblr without seeing someone downplay Louis’s trauma… it’s sad for me!

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Ghost, Simon & You [SMUT]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Implied Breeding Kink, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Stomach Bulging, Possessive! Ghost, Kinda Evil! Ghost, Simon and Ghost are Separate People in the Same Body, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Backed up! Simon who uses you as his personal cum dump whenever he returns from deployment. You know you’re in for an absolute pounding when you hear him banging on your front door, only to see him standing there, tall and dark as a shadow, looking down at you with an almost manic gaze.

He hasn't even been home to change first, still clad in his balaclava, eye paint and the under-layers of his tactical attire. He pushes his way in, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot and pressing his lips to yours. It doesn’t matter that you can’t feel his skin, that he’s almost crushing your skull as he grips your cheeks and brings you as close as physically possible, that you can taste gunpowder, dust and death on his mask. That this isn’t Simon at all, but the unholy spirit that possesses him. 

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy. 

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with. 

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t. 

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[creatingblackcharacters]

"Do Black People Blush?" Bringing brown complexions to life

Inspired by this ask

So, do Black people blush?

We are human beans 🤣! Blood rushes through our veins! This isn't just a nonblack misconception either; I know plenty of Black people who think we don't blush. Stop saying that shit. It's not true! If you thought this at any point, I'm glad you learned, TAKE THIS L IN SILENCE! I am sparing you the indignity of saying this out loud, ever! 🙏🏾

Jokes aside, the actual issue usually lies with the depiction or description. Depending on our skin tone, most of us aren’t going to turn ‘bright pink’ with a blush (if you write that in your y/n or roleplaying fics, that’s an easy way to negate a good amount of your potential Black audience). Think of a cherry coke- how you still see the tint of red in it, but it’s still brown? Like that.

One way to dodge this in writing is to say “flushed”, or “ears/cheeks became hot”. This is describing the physical action of blushing, without having to describe the color of someone’s face. If you’re really nervous about not writing us correctly via blushing… there you go!

Colorism

Okay. So this is something I’ll likely do its own lesson on, because there’s no way I could encapsulate it into one little blurb and I’m not going to try! After asking the internet an admittedly confusing question 😅, one thing I was able to reaffirm is that people have different opinions on what ‘dark’/’darker’ skin tones mean. People recognize that different cultural upbringings and contexts will change what that means! And that’s good- that an important part of the larger conversation!

However, I want everyone to understand that you don’t have to be Black to be dark/’darker’ skinned- you can be Black and very pale! We discussed that in the last lesson! There’s no ‘singular point of brown-ness’ that designates a Black person as ‘Black’- there’s an entire sociological conversation behind that!

My point is, this isn’t a ‘oh Black people OVERALL aren’t depicted blushing properly’- because there are ‘lighter’ skinned Black people that wouldn’t suffer as much from this particular issue.

Blushes and Undertones

Three Links for Tips on Medium to Deep Skintones

Different complexions are going to require different colors, there's not a 'one fits all' option. However! What we want to do for deeper brown complexions is to focus on BOLDER, not lighter! Putting light pink or a white person’s ‘nude’ on our skin will often make us look ashy and undercolored. And we don’t like looking ashy.

"It looks like they're ashy!"

What do we mean when we say this about a piece? Well, worse case scenario, it looks like this:

This was NOT one of KD’s better days, and he was thoroughly mocked for this. He got more than enough money for lotion! Anyway, when we say that your art looks ‘ashy’, it means that it feels like the skin of your Black character is gray, or dead. Like a corpse. We don’t look like that unless things are dire.

In fan and professional art, you can sometimes find people user a grey undertone for deeper shades of brown on Black people: NO! We are NOT grey! We are not pitch! Many skin shades of brown can be found based in the oranges and the reds. Based on lighting and depth of complexion, you might even have to go into the blues and purple to capture the brown you’re seeking.

I’m begging us to stop desaturating the browns we use. We can see the difference. It’s usually one of those ‘White Man Painted Brown’ techniques I discussed before; an attempt to ‘make a character Black’ without really committing to it because the brown skin tone ‘doesn’t look good’ to the artist. Brown is beautiful! Commit to brown! Commit to the full design!

Put in the work to create the brown you need!

While this is a traditional art piece (follow Ellie Mandy Art, a Black creator), I want you to notice how she incorporated many colors to create the deep brown for her piece.

-8:05 for the list of paints

-8:05-17:29 for the process

She used black, yes, but it was nowhere near the base color. She incorporated blues and reds and other browns to capture that depth. It wasn’t ‘toss in a bunch of black or grey to get the brown darker’. (SKIP TO THE END TO SEE HOW GOOD THIS PIECE IS, BTW. I felt like I was in the presence of a master watching her do this, fr. We gotta pay artists more.)

I want to use this model as an example to show that while we might get very dark, we're still not 'pitch black'. You can see the flat of the black of their clothes versus their deep complexion. They're not the same!

Even if your character's complexion is very deep brown into black, you still need to incorporate ‘life’ into them (if that makes sense). And you know what? Even if you want to describe your characters as having ‘black’ skin, that’s fine, but there are still other ways to do it- obsidian, the night sky, velvet. Find a way to romanticize our skin (there’s an entire conversation about how ‘black’ is used in a negative connotation in language and storytelling, and we’re ALSO going to have that conversation later!)

A Real Simple Way (i.e. how I do it)

I tried, but I cannot find my skin tones palette link anymore. I’m sorry! But, it’s been essential to my character design. If you don’t ever buy anything else, I would HIGHLY suggest investing in a skin tones palette for your art program.

Everyone say hello to Philia, my OC! I’m used to drawing her, so I’m going to use her as an example. Now remember, I am still an amateur! But this is how I do it!

Admittedly, I do the one on the left when I'm feeling lazy, but more often I'll take the time to do the one on the right. Now here’s the thing- I’m not actually blending the red into the brown. This is on a whole different layer. What I’m actually doing is adding to and fading the color until it’s at a color that I feel is natural. There's definitely an easier, smarter way to do this, but that’s what I like to do- I like to see the stages slowly until I’m comfortable.

You have to mess around and practice; see what looks good and what doesn't. Go into the reds, the oranges, the pinks and observe how it looks- I may go through multiple before I settle on one. It’s really just a matter of getting used to drawing Black skin tones and how they look in different lighting. This one's not perfect for sure.

Resources

Here are some really good posts and Youtube videos on how both to paint skin, and to add blush tones. And remember, as per my usual, the best way to learn how the draw and paint Black people is to follow and learn from Black artists! Another good idea might be looking into Black makeup and Black SFX makeup artists. As people that work with skin on a regular basis, they would be a good place to study what colors can and should be used on different skin colors as a whole.

ami0amii

Likelihood Art

Tiara Anderson

Proko

Sinix

Ross Draws

In summary, focus on bolder colors, be willing to test until you get what you need, and practice! All you can do to get better is to practice! And as always: it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 14 ] || [ Chapter 16 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.9K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: white-knighting johnny.

Chapter 15: Mo leannan

Johnny isn’t stupid. 

Or blind, for that matter.

Since the first time that Ghost went on that ‘date’, he’s noticed how different he’s been acting.

And weeks ago, he caught him and Gaz leaving base together in civvies. Civvies that neither of them would wear to go out for just a pint.

And either way, if they were going out for a pint, they’d have invited him and Price to go with.

No, this was different.

Personal.

And when they came back, and for the days after, he caught them sneaking glances at one another.

They’d exchange this sort of… look, that he couldn’t quite decipher.

But he could swear Ghost was smirking behind that balaclava of his…

And Gaz would bite his tongue before looking away.

It kept happening… The two of them disappearing for the night over the course of a few weeks, and coming back just in time for morning training.

Both of them way too glued to their phones…

His brain filled in the blanks as best as it could… 

And it decided that they were in love, Ghost and Gaz. 

That they were sneaking off base to get together in secret…

That they would text each other sweet nothings…

That they would exchanges glances to signify ‘I love you’s they couldn’t say aloud.

And, well, it was none of his business…

But it kind of stung a bit that he wasn’t trusted with it.

So, he tried probing.

Just a little.

Going up to Gaz during training and sort of nudging at him, poking him to see if he could get a reaction.

He made up some lie about having a date and asking Gaz if he needed help finding one too. The other lad said no with a decisive head shake.

Then, another day, he told him a story he heard of some sergeant, their age, who was caught in a relationship with a superior in their direct chain of command. And he didn’t miss the way Gaz’s eyes darted away before he muttered how stupid those soldiers were.

But Gaz didn’t fess up to anything…

And Soap wasn’t about to go up to Ghost and try the same… 

So he froze his investigation for a moment.

And he picked it up right. now.

As he stands on the next aisle at the corner shop, getting a few snacks to stock up on, he hears Simon’s distinct voice… it seems to be coming from a phone.

Peeking over what does he see if not you, listening to a voice memo with the butt of your phone against your ear, thinking the volume is low enough not to bother anyone else.

And it is low, but Johnny has good hearing, and could recognize his L.T.’s voice anywhere.

The audio is long and you’ve been listening to it for a while and giggling at it occasionally as you put things into your basket that hung from the crook of your elbow.

He’s sure you’ve been listening to the audio for like 4 minutes now, just a constant flow of Simon’s voice into your ear, probably telling you some sort of story.

Now there was something Soap hadn’t considered.

An extra piece of the puzzle…

He recognizes your face from a couple months ago on Tinder, when all four of them matched with you and, jokingly, Johnny said to Price, Gaz and Ghost that he did all the work in getting you with Price…

There was no way Ghost and Gaz were meeting up with you, was there?

Could they just have a new friend? Or… could you be more?

Thinking of approaching you and asking you directly, Johnny only catches on too late that someone is beelining right for you.

A tall, lanky bloke, maybe 6ft1 or 6ft2, with a look like he’s ready to kill someone stops grabs you by the shoulder and spins you around.

Your eyes double in size and recognition. “Who do you think you are?” He asks you.

“What the fuck do you want, Ethan?” You complain as you tap around on your phone, probably pausing the voice memo and sticking your phone in your pocket.

“What do I want?” He asks you with a humorless laugh. “I want to find out why the fuck you’re suddenly having multiple other blokes over at the flat for the whole night.” He replies.

Johnny’s eyebrows raise as he watches the scene from around the corner into the aisle.

“Since when is that any of your business? And how do you even know? Have you been spying on me?” You ask him, taking a step back.

“Spying? No. But multiple times now I’ve gone to your flat to get the rest of my things and when I was in the elevator got surprised by seeing a bloke going in or out of there.” Ethan reveals.

“Oh, piss off, Ethan!” You retort.

“You’re not denying it.” He replies. “That’s it, innit? You decide to break up with me, saying how you “deserve better” and you’re “not happy” and now you’re going around with a bunch of other blokes?” He says and chuckles dryly again.

“Oh, you’re such a knobhead!” You insult him, your feelings slightly bruised. “How dare you, honestly?! I’m not-” You add.

“You selling yourself now, ‘s that it?” He asks mockingly. “There was an old one leaving in the morning a couple months ago… now there’s black one too… And I’m pretty sure I saw one with a mask the other day. Your clients’ too embarrassed to show their faces around you, huh?” He taunts you.

“I’m sure if I went back tomorrow I’d find another bloke slipping out the door, wouldn’t I?” He continues, his words venomous. “I saw three so far, but I’m sure there’s been more. How many, hm?”

“Oh, my, God… You’re disgusting!” You tell him as you take a step back again, your fingers tightening around the handle of your basket. “I’m not selling myself, not that I need to justify anything to you! Now get away from me!”

“What’s wrong, lovie? You’re embarrassed to say that the break-up was all just an excuse for you to go around and be a whore?” He continues taunting you.

Johnny ses the panic in your eyes and before he can think about it, he’s standing behind this ‘Ethan’, who seems to be your ex. 

“They said ‘Get away from me’, I think that’s your cue, mate.” Johnny remarks with disdain dripping from his voice. Ethan turns and looks down to find Johnny. 

Johnny’s a palm shorter than him, at only 5ft10, but he’s built like a brick shithouse. Big, beefy arms, broad shoulders, strong pecs… Not to mention he’s in full military garb, minus the vest and pistols. 

His appearance is more than enough to strike a bit of fear in men taller than him… And Ethan is definitely intimidated.

“This doesn’t concern you. I’m talking to my partner.” Ethan tries defending himself.

“I don’t think so.” Johnny replies and stalks around him to your side. “Way I see it, they’re my partner.” He bluffs easily while snaking his arm around the small of your back.

He prays that you play along, silently hoping that you remember him, if nothing else, from Tinder.

“Yours?” Ethan sputters and glares at the two of you. You look up at Johnny like he’s your saving grace and lean closer to him, as a sign you recognize him and appreciate the help.

“Aye, mine.” Johnny replies with a curt nod. “This is that Ethan you’ve been telling me about, mo leannan?” [my love] Johnny asks you as his hand gently rubs your back.

Looking up at Johnny, you end up nodding in agreement. “Yeah…” You say softly, knowing that you can’t quite lie, because Ethan knows you well enough to pick up on it.

“I figured.” Johnny says as he looks at Ethan again, playing the part of the overprotective boyfriend pretty well.

“All these blokes ye’ve been ‘seeing’ out of their flat are my mates.” He explains and forces a crooked, not-quite-nice smile on his lips. “They were making sure they were alright, safe and sound, while I was overseas.” Johnny gestures to his outfit.

The realization that you are ‘dating’ a serviceman seems to extinguish whatever revolt was inside Ethan’s body immediately, like a candle that has been blown out.

Johnny lies like it’s second nature to him. His pulse and his breath are not wavering… And you can tell, because the way he has you pressed against him, you can hear both.

You finally realize what Simon told you months ago about “lying enough” while on the job and striving for honesty when he’s out of it… These soldiers are trained to lie like it’s nothing.

“And frankly, now that I saw ye accostin’em like this in a public place, I’m glad I didn’t skimp out on asking my mates to keep an eye on m’eudail.” [my darling] Johnny continues. 

“Now, if you don’t mind. We have shopping to do before we go home. So how about ye piss off?” He concludes and smiles politely. “Or else this is gon’ get very ugly.” He adds and his eyebrows shoot up in a silent lunge of a challenge.

Ethan doesn’t seem to quite believe the lies, but at the same time he’s intimidated enough to not try and argue. So he grumbles under his breath, throws his hands up in an exasperated groan and turns on his heel to walk back out of the store.

Only when he’s fully out of sight and Johnny’s sure the coast is clear, does he unwrap his arm from around you. “Ye alright?” He asks you. “Sorry for the sudden manhandling, could tell ye needed a hand… and had to get ‘im away from ye somehow.” He adds, apologetically.

You nod and look away a bit sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” You say softly as you fix your grip on your shopping basket.  “Just never thought something like this would happen.”

Johnny nods as he looks at you, noticing your face seems extremely stressed, set into a grimace that he does not like. You’re clearly shaken up.

“Hey, it’s alright. He’s gone.” He tells you calmly and taps you lightly on the shoulder. “Do ye need me to walk ye home?” He suggests.

Nodding softly, you force yourself to smile. “I think… I think that’s a good idea.” You end up saying.

Johnny nods as well. “Want me to call Simon and Kyle to meet ye there?” He asks.

Your head snaps up to look at him and your eyes widen. “You… you know?” You ask him in surprise, your breath catching in his throat.

“They’re not as discreet as they wish they were.” Johnny says, once more lying through his teeth. 

He would never admit it took him the better part of two months to realize Simon and Kyle were ‘together’, and that it only clicked they’re together with you right now… the confirmation having come from your stalker-y ex.

“Oh…” You say sheepishly and clear your throat awkwardly.

“It’s alright, I promise.” He assures you. “I’m not judgin in any way. They’re my mates, ye ken?” He adds in a surprisingly gentle tone. “Just tryin’ to help.”

From the stories you’ve heard out of Kyle and Simon, and even Johnny’s own bio on Tinder, you’d never have guessed he was so tender… They always described him as an anger-prone, grown-up class clown… And yet here he is.

Gulping down a breath, you nod. “Yeah… Please.. And I can… I can tell them what happened when we’re home.”

“Alright.” Johnny replies. “Ye wanna finish yer shopping first or d’ye wanna just go?” He asks you carefully.

“I… I’ll just get what I’ve already got in the basket… I want to get out of here…” You add as you shuffle toward the one register counter of the small corner shop.

“Right behind ye.” Johnny remarks as he follows after you.

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[jasontoddslittletoe]

OK HEAR ME OUT!!!!

either CamGirl!Reader and TopDonator/Fan!Jason, or vice versa, CamBoy!Jason and TDFan!Reader.

Just going from watching a stream to DMs. Maybe some crazy phone sex? Bluetooth toys?? Some personal videos js for their fan??? The streamer getting some pics back???? Who knowsss 👀

Oh baby. I’m listening. Loud and clear.

Jason Todd found himself watching different girls frequently. He’d send a few bucks, get himself off, move on, never go back. He thought with you he’d do the same. You were new, only in the industry for a few months now, but you had quickly gained a following.

They liked the innocent look you had to your face, but the way those dirty, disgusting men would degrade you and you’d get ten times wetter than you were originally said otherwise. However, no one payed you as well as Jason did. So when you started up your stream and noticed his name pop up first you didn’t think much.

The side of the screen showed the preferred amount to get you going, the pink device shoved into you set at a very low vibration. Barely enough to even get a whine out of you honestly. You welcomed in some of the older people with a sweet smile.

Then there goes 30. Before you could thank Jason for the donation the vibrator went off and you shivered. Rub yourself for me. That’s what it read. You let out a small giggle, “30 isn’t enough to get me to rub one out for you.” That sweet voice of yours rang out through the speaker of his phone and he groaned. Nearly creaming his pants at just that. No you were different. He liked you.

Jason kept coming back for you. He liked the stubbornness you put up when he sent you “small” amounts politely asking you to do more for him. But he didn’t like the idea of seeing those pretty fingers shoved into your weeping cunt while others watched as well. They could pay for that themselves.

After a few more streams he found himself in your DMs. Sending 2k for a private video of you doing whatever YOU want to make yourself cum. You were stunned to say the least. You make more than that per stream. But you’ve never had someone send that much at once!

The squelch of your pussy clamped down perfectly on that small glass dildo drove him mad as he watched you. His rough hands rubbing himself at the same pace. “Thank you Jay!” You squealed. He loved the way you gave him a perfect view of your cunt from the back, the arch of your back, just- everything you gave him!

Things got deeper between you and your new top donator and he offered to pay for a video call. You immediately accepted his request and made him aware of your “money per minute” policy which he brushed away. The call started off great, he was really cute, he was nice, funny, yadayadayada.

But now he had you under his control. Shaking his head whenever you stated you were so close to cumming- and yet another perfect orgasm RUINED! He kept up with you though, didn’t cum himself until he let you. But my golly your mouth watered everytime he stroked his fat cock on the screen.

“You close, mama? Wanna cum with me?” He huffed over the sounds of the lotion he applied to his cock as he stroked himself mercilessly. You responded to him needy.

“Please Jay- lemme cum with you, wanna cum with you!” You nodded vigorously, the fat tip of the silicone toy prodding at your cunt with every flick of your wrist, your fingers rubbing harsh circles onto that sensitive nub.

“Bet you’re wishin’ that was me, huh pretty.” He grinned, pretty white teeth on display. He made you feel seen, above sex. Above what you do. He even stayed long enough to make sure you were okay after your breathtaking orgasm.

He’s coming back. Because with you he’s never felt like some virgin schoolboy who hasn’t gotten the chance to hit puberty.

[lovlidollie]

Can we get a prequel to how Rafe Cameron and Crybaby reader met and got together? Please 🙏

of course !! i’m so sorry it took so long 😓 also i personally think crybaby!reader can be either kook or pogue, but for this she’s a pogue <3 not proof read ^^

cw crybaby flinches when a character raises his hand but nothing happens, slightly pervy rafe ;)

the first time rafe saw crybaby!reader was when she was working up at the little cafe inside the country club, eyes red ‘n face wet as an older man yelled at her. she was wearing an apron over a brown short-sleeved top that looked one size too small, with hair tied up using white ribbons, and a pair of roughed up sneakers on her feet. her skirt isn’t that short, perfectly acceptable for workplaces, but it has rafe wondering what her panties look like. he was sure he would have noticed the pretty little thing long before, so he assumed she was a new hire. automatically rafe knew she was one of the pogues. everyone on figure 8 knew each other, had grown up around one another from the very beginning. but she didn’t look like she belonged on the cut. no, she had the face of a kook, someone who should have more money than they can count, someone who deserved to live in luxury.

it’s like some sort of instinct comes over him, vision blurring around the edges as he watches her shrink further into herself, head shaking as she spews out stuttered apologies he’s too far to hear properly. when the man’s hands come up in frustration and she flinches back, rafe can’t stop his feet from marching towards the guy, chest puffed out ‘n shoulders squared. “hey man. what’s uh — what’s goin’ on?” his voice is gritty, barely restrained, as he looks him up and down.

“she messed up my order!” the man — bob, rafe recognises as a regular — snarls, lip upturned as he looks at her with utter disgust. “been coming here every single weekend for the past ten years and not once have i ever been given the wrong thing. disgraceful is what it is!”

rafe spares a glance down at the little thing next to him, heart flaring at the way her eyes widen and fill with fresh tears. “i-i- ‘m real sorry — sir — it - it was a mistake ‘m really sorry!” her voice is all blubbery, airy and high the way someone talks when they’re trying not to burst into sobs. it makes rafe dizzy with desire, makes him furious.

he gestures between the two, “i mean, shit man — she looks like a freshie, ‘s probably her first shift,” rafe drawls out, charming smirk on his face. “cut her some slack, yeah? if you don’t want her servin’ you then tha’s fine. we’ll go get someone else for you, a’ight?” she’s shaking like a leaf and it’s taking all of him not to reach out and clasp her shoulders, to get down on his knees and talk her out of it.

“yeah whatever. fuckin’ pogues can’t never do shit right..” bob mutters, eyeing crybaby distastefully once more before strutting away, barking at another waitress to get him a drink.

rafe sighs, rubbing a hand across his mouth, tongue poking his cheek as he thinks about whether or not it would be worth beating him up. he’s brought back to earth when he hears the distressed sniffles next to him. she’s wrapped her arms around herself, right thumb placed suspiciously close to her mouth crybaby’s eyes are all bloodshot, mascara smudged around her puffy lids, ‘n she’s bitten through her lips so hard that rafe can see the previous indentations. with a furrowed brow, he notices that she’s biting on the tip of her thumb, pink tongue peeking every now and then. (rafe tries not to groan at the sight.) he gently, ever so slowly reaches out with his larger hand, pauses when she jerks slightly, and continues to softly pull her hand away from her mouth.

“‘s not a nice man is he, huh?” rafe says quietly, trying to ignore the way her mouth chases the finger he’s pulling away. the action sends a jolt of heat through to his stomach, mind going straight to the gutter. the sane part of him understands it must be some sort of self-soothing technique, but the images it plants in his head are anything but innocent.

crybaby shakes her head roughly, eyes on her scuffed shoes. “‘m sorry — i - i really am,” she stutters, voice so soft rafe almost doesn’t hear it over the noise in the background. his jaw tightens as he tries to focus on anything but how close she is, how nice she smells. “y’don’t gotta ‘pologise to me,” he says almost affronted. “not your fault he’s an asshole.”

rafe takes a step closer, eyes flickering down to her chest where the tiny little name badge was pinned. “you — uh — you come here often?” he says her name ‘n it feels so right on his tongue. he tries to joke and it looks like it works, crybaby’s eyes blinking rapidly at his question. “i- um — yeah. jus’ started today..” her glassy eyes reflect his face in them as they begin watering again moments after. “… ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry - i —.” her lips look so fucking delectable in that little pout, he just wants to shove — rafe shakes his head and reaches out before he can stop himself. “look at me,” he says, voice firmer than before as he tilts her chin up. her skin is so soft and smooth he’s almost too distracted by it to talk. “it is okay,” he enunciates for her. “alright? jus’ — uhh — take a deep breath — yeah, do that. no more sorry’s, yeah? i got you.”

rafe’s never been good at handling emotions — his or anyone else’s — but there’s something about her that wills him into being just a smidge more patient. he feels the urge to say something comforting, something to make her feel better, but the only thing that comes out is, “y’too pretty to be crying over some dickhead.”

it’s not the most appropriate thing to say — this being their first meeting and all — but he can’t help himself. it seems to do the trick though, so he can’t really complain can he? the way her cheeks warm at his words, the way her eyes grow wider — it’s almost too much. she’s so innocent, so naïve, and he knows he shouldn’t be thinking about her on her knees for him, but he just can’t stop.

“y’doing just fine. first day’s always rough, mistakes happen. you’ll get the hang of it.” not that he’d know, rafe’s never had to work a day in his life. the reassurance soothes crybaby enough for her to nod her head jerkily, teeth catching the flesh of her lips again. rafe has to look away for a second, pretending to glance around the cafe so he doesn’t do something stupid like drag her into the back room and let his hands roam. “y-you really think so?” she asks softly, voice all small ‘n shaky, like she needs his answer in order to believe it.

“i know so,” he responds, full of confidence. “how ‘bout this. anyone gives you any trouble — ‘n i mean any — you come find me ‘n i’ll deal with it.”

crybaby looks up at him starstruck, almost honoured that he’d be willing to do that for her. “that— tha’s so nice of you,” she mouths, sniffling. shyly, with her fingers rubbing away the drying tears on her cheeks, she adds, “wh-what should i call you? like — like what’s your name?” she seems flustered, embarrassed for even asking.

rafe smirks, shit eating grin on his face as he steps back and crosses his arms. oh there were plenty of things she could call him he sucks his teeth and arches a brow at her. “name’s rafe. rafe cameron.” he assumes that because she’s a pogue, she at the very least has some sort of idea of who he is, of his reputation. he knows johnb and co have nothing better to do than shittalk, but when she gives him a tentative smile instead of shrinking away in disgust, rafe knows he’s got her.

“r-rafe,” she repeats, like she’s committing it to memory, and it does something to him, hearing his name on her lips like that. he wants to hear more. needs it more than air and it should scare him how quickly he’s developed a fixation on her. “mmh — don’t you forget it.”

crybaby’s clearly not used to this sort of attention, with the way she can’t keep her eyes on him, the way she fiddles with her fingers ‘n can’t stay still. it only makes rafe want to push further, but he forces himself to reel it in. there was plenty of time to explore this later, to see how far he could take it before she broke.

“i - uh - gotta go,” rafe says, voice a little scratchier. “boys are waitin’ f’me on the green. but i’ll uh — see you ‘round, yeah?” she wipes her hands against her apron, nodding again with the tiniest, cutest smile on her lips.

he spares her one last look before he pushes through to the golf course, already making up reasons to blow of top ‘n kelce so he can instead find out as much as he can about crybaby. immediately, rafe’s thinking of excuses to come see her again tomorrow.

[wttcsms]

when you know, you know, atsumu miya ;

pairing atsumu miya x f!reader word count 1k synopsis atsumu considers marriage to be a trap, until he realizes that even a lifetime commitment to you isn't long enough content contains fluff, talks of marriage!!!! he's a softie

It starts off like this: nobody sees Atsumu Miya getting married — not now, not ever, not in the foreseeable future, nor in any of the millions of alternate and parallel universes that may or may not exist.

You’re just not the type of person we see settling down. 

Yeah, that might be true, but it still stings a little. It stings when he sees the white picket fences, and the cars with the MY KID’S AN HONOR STUDENT bumper stickers. It stings when he happens to accidentally catch a rerun of those family-centered sitcoms; the ones where they argue during the day and make up at night, with some cliche moral to the over dramatic situations that have occurred onscreen fifteen minutes ago. It stings when he watches his teammates get engaged and he has to congratulate them — he’s genuinely happy for them, don’t get him wrong — but still… 

It doesn’t matter. Atsumu Miya has long since held the firm belief that he’s just not the type of person the whole “fall in love, get married, have a family, cue the domesticity cuteness overload” schtick is meant for. Besides, it’s not like it’s something he’s spent years obsessing over (maybe months, at most). 

He rationalizes his bachelor status (that’s been a part of him for so long that it’s getting to become somewhat of a red flag for potential girlfriends) as him being the only one left with his priorities straight. After all, he doesn't have to worry about things like parent-teacher conferences or crayon drawings on the wall or trying to buy flowers to make sure the wife isn’t too mad when he comes home late. 

After all, he tells everyone, settling down is still settling. 

And Atsumu Miya, under no circumstances, ever settles.

Which is an ideal he clings to with such a tight grip, if it were flesh and blood, it would be suffocating. He doesn’t, he decides after a while, believe in marriage. 

(That is to say: he doesn’t believe that it’s possible for him. 

It’s not what he says explicitly, but it’s what he truly means.) 

So, when he tells you this on your second date, you’re a little stunned, but you’re quick to recover. Okay… So that’s the explanation you’ve been waiting for. The reason why this six feet two inches tall professional athlete with a bank account he generously withdraws money from has been single for so long is because he doesn’t believe in marriage. 

Other than that, he’s been nothing but great. Near perfect. So, all you do is nod and continue on with the original topic of the conversation. Eventually, your budding romance blooms into something much bigger than either of you ever anticipated or saw coming, and while you yourself have never mentioned the M-word after that date, it’s all Atsumu can think about right now. 

Marriage.

The concept of it looms over your relationship; a perpetual gray cloud that threatens to flood this perfect little relationship and have it all go down the drain. You never brought it up after he basically told you he would never marry anyone, and he never brought it up purely because — well — he’s a bit of a coward. 

He’s the type of person who’s set on his own convictions, by the way. If his balls ever drop, and he decides to Man Up, he figures he’ll start the conversation just like that. His stubbornness is nothing new to you, but him figuring out that he might be wrong makes his stomach feel funny. It’s sick and twisted. 

“Hey, what do you want for dinner tonight? I’m at the store right now, and I’m in the mood to cook.” He can picture it clearly: you, standing in one of the grocery store aisles, phone balanced in between your ear and shoulder as you compare the ingredients of the name brand and generic cereal. 

He’s in the locker room, about to pack up his gym bag (that you’ll complain reeks) and head back to his apartment (that’s starting to feel a lot more like yours, with the way your skincare products dominate the bathroom counter), and it hits him so suddenly, he has to sit back down on the bench. 

Atsumu Miya thinks that marriage isn’t for him, and as a defense mechanism, he decides that marriage sucks anyway. But through the tinny speakers of his phone, he can hear you toss something in the shopping cart. He hears the faint crying of a toddler in the background, and then he starts to think about what it would be like to walk around the store with a baby that takes after you. Right now, you’re already sleeping in the same bed with him at least four times out of the week, but it would be perfect, he thinks, to get the privilege to wake up to you every morning.

“Atsumu?” You try to get his attention, and Atsumu tries to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling he gets when he considers a future with you. Settling down is still settling, he tells himself, and then he thinks of the way you looked when you caught the bouquet at a friend’s wedding. The pleased smile on your face, the triumphant way you held the flowers over your head, head thrown back in glee; you looked absolutely radiant. You caught his eye, and you quickly lowered your hands, giving him a sheepish grin. 

He realizes now that if anyone is settling, it’s you. You don’t know that he notices the way you tear up at weddings, or how excited you sound when you get back from dress shopping with one of your friends. You want to get married, and the only thing stopping you is him.

He’s spent ages deluding himself into thinking that he’s somehow losing if he decides to trap himself into a marriage with someone, but no one can accuse him of settling when it’s you he’s marrying. You’re the prize. You’re the only person in the world he wants to give his last name and an obnoxiously big ring to. 

“Make whatever you want, baby. I’ll eat anything.” He’s checking the locations for the nearest jewelers in his immediate vicinity. “I might be a little late, though. I have to check on something.” 

[rubyreduji]

The Christmas Boyfriend — yjh

summary: when you tell your mom the little white lie that you have a boyfriend, you don’t expect it to evolve into bringing your friend with benefits home for christmas. what can go wrong?

tags: fluff, smut (minors dni), fwb, fake dating, college!au warnings: ok the smut is likes less than 2k words of this fic tbh, conversations about birth control, mention of unsafe sex, explicit sex, oral, fingering, praise, cum eating, creampies wc: 12.7k an: guys im not used to writing jeonghan so if his characterization is off im so sorry fdsak anyways writing this made me want to go ice skating :((

“Sweetie! I’m so excited for you to come home for Christmas!” Your mom calls over the phone.

“Yeah Mom, me too,” you say with half sincerity.

“Oh and make sure you bring that cute boyfriend with you too! I want to meet him, you’ve told me almost nothing about him!”

You pause. Boyfriend? Boyfriend.

Oh shit.

“Hey Mom?” It was the end of summer and you were about to go back to university.

“Yes sweetie?” Your mom was bustling around the kitchen getting ready for dinner.

“Do you think that I could go on birth control?” These worlds made your mother stop.

“Birth control? Why do you need to go on birth control? I know your cycle is normal, so who are you having sex with? Oh please don’t tell me you’re sleeping around,” your mom huffed exasperatedly.

“I’m not!” Technically you weren’t sleeping around. You were sleeping with one person, repeatedly. “I have a boyfriend Mom, and we use protection, but it would be nice to have an extra layer of protection.” It was…somewhat the truth. You tried to use protection but every once in a while you…didn’t. You’d taken a lot of Plan B lately.

“A boyfriend! Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me all about him!” The problem is…you didn’t have a boyfriend. You had a Jeonghan who periodically fucked you during the school year. You hadn’t seen him all summer but you knew that as soon as the school year started again you guys would start right back up.

“His name is Jeonghan, he’s studying business. We’ve been dating since the beginning of the year.”

“Oh tell me more! I want to know, please. I have to meet him immediately.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the day making up half-lies about Jeonghan and convincing your mother to let you on birth control.

You honestly forgot you told your mom that lie, and now it’s coming back to bite you in the butt. You hadn’t brought him up to your mom since and now you either have to tell her you guys broke up or you have to convince Jeonghan to spend part of winter break with your family pretending to be your boyfriend. Knowing your mom, the latter will be easier.

“You told your mom WHAT?” You decide to tell Jeonghan after you guys finish having sex.

“I told her…that we’re dating.”

“Why?”

“You came inside me two minutes ago, you really wanna ask why? She would be so upset if she knew I was in a friends with benefits situation but if I tell her I have a boyfriend that I trust and care for, she’ll let me go on birth control.”

“Why did you have to ask her to go on birth control?” Jeonghan asks as you start to get dressed.

“I’m a college student Jeonghan, birth control isn’t free and if I ask my mom I can put it on her insurance. C’mon can you do this one thing for me? My mom is a great cook and it only has to be for a little bit, only one day really!”

“This really means that much to you?”

“Yes.” You’re practically making puppy dog eyes at him now.

“Well, you know, I just so happen to need somewhere to stay during winter break. So…I guess I’ll be staying with you and putting on the best show for your mom. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.”

You just grin at him.

“Sweetie! You’re home! Honey come here, our daughter is home!” Your mom runs out of the house to greet you, scooping you up into a hug. “Oh, oh, is this him?” She glances over your shoulder excitedly to where Jeonghan is standing behind you by the car.

“Mom, this is Jeonghan…my boyfriend.” You have to force the last bit out. 

“Oh he’s so handsome! It’s nice to finally meet you Jeonghan, I’m so happy you’re joining us for the holidays.”

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you.” Jeonghan accepts your mom’s hug.

“Of course! You’ve been dating my daughter for almost a year now, anything you need we’ll be here.”

“Is that them?” A booming voice comes from the house. You look over to see your dad and brother standing on the porch.

“Honey, come meet Jeonghan! Look how handsome he is!”

You sigh, it’s already going to be a long four weeks.

“I’m…sorry about them,” you tell Jeonghan when you’re finally alone in your room, where your mother insisted Jeonghan stay with you. For someone who disapproves of casual sex, she sure does support ‘healthy love making between couples’. You don’t even want to think about her and your dad.

“I can’t say you didn’t warn me,” Jeonghan chuckles. “They all seem really nice though.”

“They’re…something,” you mutter. “I hope you don’t mind sharing a bed. Once again I’m really sorry about my mom.”

“It’s fine, I’m serious, stop stressing out. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” he jokes. 

You roll your eyes. “That reminds me. We have to lay down some ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” Jeonghan cocks an eyebrow curiously, and a bit skeptical. 

“Yes. I know it sounds silly and cliche, but really, we need to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. We just have to pretend to be a couple, that’s not hard. Hugging, kissing, all that gooey stuff.”

“What if my parents ask about our relationship? Are you sure you’re okay being coupley with me all the time? I-”

“Babe,” Jeonghan starts, “stop worrying. You make it seem like you have zero faith in me. Trust me, I can be the best fake-boyfriend you’ll ever need.” You scrunch your nose up at him calling you ‘babe’ in a non-sexual setting, but you guess you’ll have to get used to it.

“Still…if you even want to back out, just tell me and we can make up some excuse for you having to leave or-”

Jeonghan cuts you off once more, “Stop worrying. It’s the holiday season, let’s have fun! If your parents ask about our relationship just leave it to me.”

You stare at Jeonghan unsure, all too familiar with his antics. You can tell Jeonghan is about to counter your look when all of a sudden your door is flung open.

“Mom said dinner is ready!” Your brother announces.

You admit defeat on having this conversation with Jeonghan, leading him downstairs to where everyone is taking their place around the dinner table. The table feels just slightly cramped with the addition of the chair added for Jeonghan squeezed in next to yours. The top of dinner is quiet besides a few “could you pass the salt” or “this tastes great Mom” thrown in. It isn’t until your dad is going in for seconds when your mom speaks up.

“So, Jeonghan, tell me about yourself. Pumpkin has barely told us anything about you.” 

You internally groan at the childhood nickname your family still insists on using for you, and you hope it goes unnoticed by Jeonghan. Unfortunately, not much slips past him.

“Pumpkin?”

“A terrible nickname from when I was little,” you explain, slightly glaring at your mother.

“I think it’s cute.” You so desperately want to smack the smug look off Jeonghan’s face.

“It is cute,” your mom interjects. “It’s based on these adorable photos we took during her first fall. We did a photoshoot and put her in a pumpkin, it was just darling. Remind me later and I’ll pull out the photobooks.” Your mom winks at Jeonghan and you’re starting to realize just how big of a mistake this was. “Now, back to what I was saying. Tell me about yourself, Jeonghan.”

“Well there’s not much to say. I’m a business major, I enjoy sports and spending time with my friends.”

“He’s an amazing singer,” you jut in. You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because Jeonghan is selling himself short. “He’s a part of the University’s choir. And he models for the fashion students.” You can see Jeonghan blush under your praise.

“Aw, that’s nice. And how did you two meet?”

“We met through a mutual friend, and then ended up having a class together the following semester. First time we met I thought she was the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’m just lucky she gave me the time of day.” Jeonghan makes a show of grabbing your hand in his, clasping them together on the table. Even though you know it’s for show, the display makes your stomach flip a bit.

You do take note that his story is true for the most part. At least the part about you two meeting and then sharing a class. You’re pretty sure the part about you being “the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen” is just fluff to appease your mom. It does the trick though, as your mom coos at Jeonghan’s words.

She continues to ask Jeonghan questions about himself and your relationship, and Jeonghan keeps delivering. He tells her stories about him attempting to flirt with you and you being too oblivious to realize. You roll your eyes the whole time, knowing what he’s actually talking about. The three weeks he spent continuously trying to hit on you before you finally agreed to go on a date with him. 

Speaking of the date, Jeonghan also tells that story. In real life what happened with Jeonghan invited you over to watch a movie, you both got a little tipsy, and ended up fucking right on his couch. Neither of you asked for a second date, but did start to booty call each other, so that’s something. The way Jeonghan tells it to your mom is a lot more…wholesome.

“We went out to see a movie, her choice of course.” Lie, Jeonghan forced you to watch The Notebook. “Then afterwards I didn’t want the date to end so we got dessert and went back to my apartment. We spent the whole night talking before she eventually fell asleep on my couch. It was adorable.”

“Oh stop,” you mutter, trying your best to sound playful.

“It’s true. The way your nose twitches when you’re dreaming and the little huffs you let out. How can I find that as anything but the cutest thing ever?” Jeonghan then leans in and presses a quick kiss to your warm cheeks.

You’re aware you do those things in your sleep, it’s something you’ve done ever since you were little, but you weren’t aware that Jeonghan knew about them. Everytime you sleep over at Jeonghan’s, or he spends the night at yours, he always complains in the morning about how you elbowed him in your sleep all night. 

“Oh you two are just so cute!” Your mom exclaims. She then turns to you, “How dare you keep him away from us for so long.”

Your brother is obviously doesn't care for the topic of conversation and excuses himself from the table. Your mom realizes that dinner is now officially over and she and your father start to clean up the table.

“Don’t go far, Jeonghan. I need to show you those baby pictures!”

“Noooo.” You tug on Jeonghan’s sleeve, like it might somehow convince him to go back upstairs with you, but of course not. Of course Jeonghan wants to see all of your baby photos.

You know this shouldn’t really bother you this much. Everyone has baby photos. The issue is you were an extremely unphotogenic baby. Your brother has maybe some of the cutest baby photos you’ve ever seen. Not you. You look like a gremlin, to the point your baby photos became a meme between you and your friends in high school.

Your mom makes a pot of coffee for all of you before she’s shuffling into the living room and pulling out the large fifty page photo album of you from newborn to age four. Jeonghan follows suit and you reluctantly take your place next to him on the couch. 

The first few pages aren’t bad. They’re all photos of you still in the hospital when you were first being held by your mom and dad, swaddled in a cute little pink blanket that you know your mom has stored somewhere up in the attic. 

The first bad photo doesn’t show up until a few pages in, after you were brought home. It’s a photo of you crying, your face all scrunched up in an ugly expression. You think it’s hideous but it’s one of your dad’s favorite baby photos of you. Jeonghan chuckles slightly and you shove him lightly.

Shortly after that the infamous pumpkin photo shows up. It’s you sitting in a pumpkin, a stupid, blank look on your face as you chew on the pumpkin. There’s a little orange beanie on your head that’s just a little too big for your head.

“Aww, look at that little pumpkin,” Jeonghan giggles.

“Shut up,” you grumble, glaring down at the picture.

Unfortunately for you, it only gets worse from there. There’s the photos from when you were two years old and constantly had messy hair and a stupid expression on your face. And then the photos of you at three when all you would do was pout at the camera. Then the photos from when you were four and somehow every photo was taken at just the wrong second.

Your mother and Jeonghan have a great time, cooing at each photo, your mother giving an anecdote every once in a while. It isn’t until near the end that Jeonghan finally looks over at you, on his other side. He smiles at the slight pout on your face.

“C’mon babe, stop pouting.” Jeonghan scoots closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. Even if it’s just for show, you can’t help but admit it is slightly comforting. Jeonghan then leans in and whispers to you. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You really are the cutest little baby. I mean that’s not a surprise, you’re still cute, aren’t you baby?”

Your face heats up at his words. You’re not sure why he’s laying it on so thick when you’re sure your mom can’t even hear him. You suddenly stand, trying to subtly get distance between you and your fake boyfriend.

“Well, it’s getting late and I’m tired after all of that traveling today. We’ll see you in the morning Mom.”

Jeonghan finally allows you to pull him back upstairs and into your room. You let out a deep sigh as soon as the door is closed and you move to start getting ready for bed.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asks you as he changes into his pajamas as well. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries did I?”

“No, no, you’re fine,” you assure him. “You’re just doing what any boyfriend would, so keep it up, actually.”

“Okay…” Jeonghan says, the skepticism in his voice. You don’t say anything else though and Jeonghan drops it, thankfully.

You both crawl into bed and you try not to think about how you can feel his body so close to yours. As you close your eyes you can’t help but think you’re not sure how you’re going to make it through the rest of the break.

“We’re going Christmas tree shopping today!” Your mom announces cheerfully when you and Jeonghan make your way downstairs for breakfast. 

“You guys haven’t gotten a tree yet?” You ask.

“We were waiting for you,” your mom explains. “So we could go as a family and then decorate it together.”

After breakfast your whole family piles into your dad’s car and you take off to the Christmas tree lot. There’s Christmas music playing on the radio as you drive and you can hear Jeonghan softly sing along.

You’ve always liked Jeonghan’s voice. You find his high, light voice angelic and you could listen to him sing all the time. You tune out the chatter of your parents in favor of listening to Jeonghan the whole ride there. A part of you is glad that only you can hear him, taking this as a moment for yourself. 

As soon as the car parks and you all climb out of the car, Jeonghan reaches over and grabs your hand in his. You look over at him to see him smiling at you and you smile back. There’s a bite in the air as you two walk through the trees and you appreciate the warmth of Jeonghan’s hand in yours.

“Oh, what a darling couple,” you hear an old couple whisper as they walk past you two. 

“Hear that? We look darling together, darling” Jeonghan jokes after they’re out of earshot. You roll your eyes but there’s a smile on your face as you playfully knock your elbow into Jeonghan’s side.

You and Jeonghan continue to walk around, looking at trees, until your father finds you two to tell you that your bother found the perfect tree. Your brother is bouncing around when you three make your way to the tree and he looks at you and Jeonghan proudly.

“Good choice, little man,” you tell him.

“Yeah, looks like a great tree,” Jeonghan agrees, which makes your brother smile even more.

Your family is standing in line to pay for the tree when your mom gasps. You look over at her to see her giddy face as she points up. You glance up to see the sprig of mistletoe places directly over you and Jeonghan’s heads.

“Well look at that,” Jeonghan says amused. “It looks like we have to kiss. By the laws of Christmas of course.”

“By the laws of Christmas?”

“Of course. I don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list,” Jeonghan teases you. You shake your head, smiling.

“If you say so.” You lean in and press a kiss to Jeonghan’s lips.

You’ve never actually kissed him outside of having sex, but it comes surprisingly natural to you. Jeonghan wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in closer for just a moment, before pulling away. The tip of his nose and ears are pink and there’s a slight twinkle in his eye and he grins at you.

“You have cooties now,” your little brother announces from beside you and you and Jeonghan both burst out laughing. 

On the ride back home, your whole family sings along to the radio, and your mother compliments Jeonghan’s voice, which makes him flustered.

After you get back home, your dad and Jeonghan struggle to get the tree to fit through the door as you and your mom snicker at them. After they finally get it into the living room, you, Jeonghan, and your brother get to work decorating it. When your brother asks why your parents aren’t helping, your dad says he did all the work by paying for it.

The three of you (mostly you and Jeonghan) spend way too much time untangling lights before you string them up, finally allowing you to get to the good part. Your family’s ornaments are stored in a large plastic tub and you get to work digging through them. You’re not sure how many your family owns, but you’re sure it’s enough to cover three trees in whole. The tub isn’t organized in any way and you do your best to pick and choose which ones you think will make the best decorations.

Jeonghan kneels down beside you and starts to look through the tub as well.

“These ornaments are cute,” Jeonghan comments as he picks up a small stuffed animal snowman with a loop attached to it. He reaches over to place it on the tree.

“Yeah, it’s a part of my grandparents’ gift to us every year. An ornament for both of us.” You pick up a decoration with a family picture on it and you hang it up.

“You were so small in that one,” Jeonghan says, referencing the picture you just added to the tree.

You glance over the photo. You’re maybe five or six, way before your brother was born. You’re squished between your parents on a bench with Christmas lights behind you. You’re bundled up in a puffy winter jacket and a hat is squashed into your head. It’s a sweet photo.

“You know, this is all quite unfair,” you tell him. “You’re going to have to show me your childhood photos at some point now.”

“Now I don’t know if that was part of the deal.”

“Well we might just have to make it so. I’d love to see tiny little Hannie.”

“Maybe I could strike up a deal…”

You’re about to make a comment on Jeonghan’s sneaky ways, when you feel a tap on your leg. You look down to see your brother standing next to you with a sled shaped ornament in his hand.

“I need help putting this on the tree.”

“I got you buddy.” Jeonghan moves over to pick your brother up, lifting him up so your brother can place the ornament on the tree.

The moment is oddly sweet and when Jeonghan lets him down, he gives your brother a high five after. Jeonghan walks back over to the tub before picking up an ornament. After closer inspection you realize that it’s the ornament shaped like a little bunny with a fluffy cotton tail and a pink scarf. You quickly lunge forward and snatch it out of his hands.

“Aish!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, holding onto the ornament. “But you can’t place this on the tree.”

“Why not?”

“Because…,” you hesitate, suddenly embarrassed. 

“That’s her favorite, she has to place it on the tree every year. In its special spot,” you mom answers as she walks into the room, carrying a tray of cookies. 

Jeonghan just chuckles before leaning in to wrap his arms around your waist and kissing your cheek. You flush, trying not to think too much of it. It’s just because your mom is standing in the room. “That’s so cute. In its ‘special spot’?”

“Yes,” you mumble. You move out of Jeonghan’s grip to lift the ornament and place it at the top of the tree, right under where the star sits. The idea is more embarrassing now that Jeonghan is staring at you, the smug little grin on his face, but you can’t ignore tradition just because you know he’s going to make fun of you later.

“Are there any more special ornaments I should know about, darling?” Jeonghan asks and you smack him lightly, both for the comment and the teasing nickname he’s picked up.

“No. Decorate at your free will.”

Your brother is now more interested in the cookies your mom brought in, leaving you and Jeonghan to finish the tree off. It’s weighted down by all of the ornaments you’ve hung on it by the end. You reach down into the box to grab the tree topper.

“All that’s left is the star,” you announce.

“Jeonghan should put it on,” your mom suggests and you hold it out to him.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“We insist,” your mom tells him. 

“C’mon Han, just do it, make her happy.” You nudge him a bit and Jeonghan finally takes it before reaching up on his tiptoes to place the star on top. You and your mom cheer and you can see the small smile on Jeonghan’s face.

With the finishing touch on the tree, you’re able to step back and look at your masterpiece.

“I think we did a pretty good job,” you say.

“I think we did the best job, and I should know. I’m a tree decorating veteran.” Jeonghan wraps an arm around your waist. You glance up at him, only to be surprised by him pecking you on the lips. You don’t even have time to react, the kiss smooth like you two do it all the time.

Jeonghan doesn’t bat an eye, turning back to stare at the tree. You feel your stomach flutter.

So here’s the thing. It’s not like you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, he’s a great guy, a close friend, but you two just never evolved into that part of your relationship. The issue when you’re hooking up with someone is that it’s intimate. You’ve spent the night at each other’s apartments, you share the same friends, you have strangely deep pillow talk with one another. It’s all under the same impression that you’re just friends with benefits, but now you’re here, in your childhood home, pretending to be a couple. The circumstances are completely different and now you don’t know how to feel.

All you know is that Jeonghan keeps kissing you with no sexual undertones under it, and maybe you like it a little too much.

When you wake up the next morning, Jeonghan is already awake on his phone. He looks over at you and snickers before turning his phone towards you. On his screen is a photo of you asleep, your mouth wide open and a bit of drool running down your cheek.

“Delete that!” You shout, suddenly wide awake. Jeonghan giggles as he stands up and runs out of the room. You chase after him, yelling at him, until you two make it to the kitchen.

“Well! You two are lively this morning,” your mom comments. She’s standing at the stove cooking breakfast with a fond grin on her face.

“Good morning!” Jeonghan says, a smug smile on his face as he slips his phone into his pocket. “That smells great. Do you need any help?” Jeonghan gestures to the plates sitting on the counter, waiting to be put out.

“Oh honey, no, no, you go sit. You’re a guest.” 

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks and your mom nods.

“Of course. Pumpkin, you can help me.”

Jeonghan moves to the dining table while your mom moves closer to you, a giddy look on her face, as she hands you the plates. 

“Pumpkin, you’ve really found yourself a keeper,” she whispers to you. “Jeonghan is such a sweet young man.”

“Uh, yeah mom, thanks,” you mutter.

It’s not like you don’t know Jeonghan’s a great guy, but the truth is you two aren’t dating. It’s not like you can tell your mom that, but you don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep up the lie after you two leave after break. It was easy when he was just a random name you threw out, but now your mom has actually met him, and he’s doing a little too well at charming her.

And maybe you too. It’s only been two days of pretending to fake date Jeonghan and somehow you’re already questioning your whole relationship with him. You don’t know if your heart will take fake dating him for any longer than you have to.

You and your mom head towards the table where Jeonghan sits next to your brother, looking invested in whatever your brother is talking about. You take your seat on the other side of Jeonghan as your mother sits across from you.

“So, any plans you two have for today?”

“Uhm, not at the moment,” you reply.

“You two should go ice skating! A new place opened downtown. I’m sure all the cute young couples are going there.”

You perk up at the idea. Ice skating has always been a fun winter tradition for you and now you have a reason to go. Right as the sun is starting to set, you and Jeonghan take off downtown. The city is dressed up in lights and it excites the child inside of you.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You ask Jeonghan as you walk down the street.

“Isn't what pretty?”

“The lights. Look at them. It really gets me in the Christmas mood,” you say. 

“Oh, yeah. They do look nice. Oh, there’s the skating rink.”

The rink is large and already filled with several people from other couples to families to people just skating solo. There are lights surrounding the rink and you can hear Christmas music playing out of speakers nearby.

You and Jeonghan go and rent your skates before putting them on and heading towards the ice. You slide onto the rink first and then wait for Jeonghan to follow. You watch as he steps out on the ice and moves to push himself forward, only to fall directly on his ass.

You stifle a laugh before reaching down to help him up. As soon as he’s back up Jeonghan moves over to hold onto the wall.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m not very good at ice skating.”

You actually allow yourself to laugh out loud this time. “Why did you agree to come?”

“I don’t know, your mom seemed so excited about it and so did you.”

You smile before skating up to Jeonghan’s side. “That’s sweet of you Han, but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want to. We can just walk around downtown and look at the lights.”

“No, I want to do this,” Jeonghan states, determined.

“Okay, okay. At least let me help you out.” You move your hand to grasp Jeonghan’s and you start to move. Jeonghan gently lets go of the wall to follow you, his grip on your hand tight.

You skate effortlessly, trying not to giggle as Jeonghan does his best not to fall and pull you down with him. You’re skating much slower than you’re used to as Jeonghan clings to your arm.

“How are you so good at this,” Jeonghan whines as you two stop to take a break.

“Ice skating is a family tradition for me. Don’t worry, you look cute.” You reach up to straighten the fluffy hat on his head.

The moment feels oddly intimate, which is an interesting feeling considering you two have seen each other naked. It almost feels like you two are an actual couple, out on a cute Christmas-y date.

If you’re being honest, Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. You love the whole season and the feeling of family and joy and love. When you were little you always dreamed of having a great Christmas romance, and now you have it, it’s just…fake.

You look at Jeonghan to see the soft pink dusting his face and ears and you wonder if it’s because of the cold or if he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Aww, you two are so cute.” The moment is broken and you look to the side to see an older couple skating up to you two. “Would you like us to take your photo?”

“Oh, um, sure!” You reply, pulling your phone out to hand to them. Your mom did tell you to take lots of photos.

You skate back over to Jeonghan and position yourself next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. You two lean into each other, smiling at the camera. After that photo is taken you lean in to press a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek.

The couple then returns your phone and bids you a goodbye. You flip through the photos and Jeonghan peeks over your shoulder at them.

“You should send those to me.”

You look at him curiously. In all the time you’ve known Jeonghan, you’ve never known him to care much about having photos of you two together, even as just friends, but you shoot them over to his number anyway. You then grab his hand again and continue to skate.

Even with Jeonghan’s poor skating skills, you two still have fun. The Christmas music sets the mood as you two skate around the rink and you can hear Jeonghan humming along as you skate. The moment is nice.

You two skate for about an hour before Jeonghan’s feet start to hurt and you two decide to put the skates up and pop into a nearby cafe to grab some hot chocolate before exploring downtown more. There is a tree put in the center of the plaza and you and Jeonghan take a few more photos to show your mom.

In the midst of hooking up with Jeonghan, sometimes it’s hard to remember you two are friends as well. You’re a bit glad for this whole fake dating thing, because it gives you a chance to hang out with Jeonghan in a non-sexual manner. It reminds you of how much you like Jeonghan as just a person and how you enjoy spending time with him. It’s really nice.

It’s late into the night when you two finally head back to your house. The lights are already all off and you and Jeonghan creep up to your room quietly, as to not wake up anyone else. You two quietly change into your pajamas before crawling into your bed.

There’s a slight chill in the room and you slide over to Jeonghan to try and get warmer. He accepts you into his arms and you two lay there in silence for a moment before he begins to speak.

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this at first, but I’ve been having a lot of fun. Your family’s great.”

“Yeah…they are. Thanks for doing this for me by the way.”

“I mean, it benefits me too, right,” Jeonghan chuckles.

Right. The reason you’re doing this in the first place: the birth control.

It’s weird to think about now that you’re here. Jeonghan has seemed to blend into your family so well, you nearly forgot the reason this started to begin with.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeonghan asks.

“What? Oh yeah. I’m just…tired. I think I should try to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay…goodnight.”

When you wake up, Jeonghan is still asleep next to you, and you glance at the clock to see it’s strangely early. It’s then that you hear the tapping on your door and you stand up to crack it open. Your mom is standing on the other side of the door with a paper in her hand.

“Sweetie, sorry to wake you up, but I need you to do me a favor today.”

“What is it Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, nothing wrong, but I need you to go out and buy these things for me.” She passes you the list and you scan over it before shooting your mom a look.

“You haven’t gotten the presents yet?” You hiss. “Christmas is in like four days!”

“I know! Me and your father haven’t had time to go with your brother around. Please? Here’s my card.” She passes you her credit card. “You can pick up some gifts for yourself as well. Bring Jeonghan along, get lunch, make a day out of it. Please, Pumpkin?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. I’ll get it all.”

“Thank you!” Your mom hugs you quickly before leaving. You sigh, staring down at the list. There’s quite a few things on it. The closer you look at it you realize there’s also gifts for your extended family and your father on it. You huff, you have your work cut out for you. At least your mom has marked what store you can find each item.

You walk over to the bed and shake Jeonghan until he wakes up.

“Wha’?”

“Come up, get up. We have a long day of shopping ahead of us and I want to beat the crowds.”

Jeonghan grumbles a bit more but rolls out of bed. You two get dressed before climbing into your car and heading towards the store. You stop at a coffee shop to get both of you take out cups and head to the first store.

Your brother’s Christmas list is mainly toys, which you guess you can expect from a five year old. The toy store is already bustling with people and you grab a cart and Jeonghan’s hand so you don’t lose each other. You make your way through the aisles, doing your best to find everything on the list.

“What about this one?” Jeonghan asks, holding up a green race car. You frown.

“No. He doesn’t like that shade of green, and he already owns three green cars. He wants a purple one…aha! Here it is.” You grab the one on the back of the rack before throwing it into the cart. “Okay. I think there’s toy dinosaurs a few aisles down, and then we should have everything here.”

You two continue through the store before you find the aisle full of different dinosaur themed toys. You pick up a book for you to gift your little brother yourself and then look over the toys.

“He already owns a t-rex, a stegosaurus, and a triceratops,” you mutter more to yourself than Jeonghan. You glance through the toys before landing on a dinosaur with a long neck. “Brachiosaurus, perfect.”

You place this in the cart as well and then turn to Jeonghan, who is smiling at you. “You’re a good big sister, you know that?”

“I’m just doing what my mom asked me,” you tell him as you push the cart towards the check out.

“No I mean, you pay attention to him. You know what toys he already owns and what colors he likes. It’s sweet.”

You brush Jeonghan off again, but the words cause a warm feeling to bloom in your stomach. You two stand in the check out line for what feels like forever before you’re able to leave. As you two are walking to the car you look over at Jeonghan and realize he deserves something for Christmas as well. He’s spending the whole break with you and your family, it’s the least you can do.

“Oh shit, I forgot something. Here, take the car keys, I’ll be back in a flash, I promise.” You hand him the keys before running back into the store before Jeonghan can protest.

You weave through the people before making it to the Lego aisle. You’ve seen all of the models inside his apartment, and you figure this will be a good gift for him. You search through the different kits to find the best one, before settling on the electric guitar set. You’ve seen him play the bass a couple of times, and you hope Jeonghan will still appreciate the thought.

The line is a bit shorter this time and you make sure the box is well hidden in the bag before making your way back to the car. You store the bag in the back before slipping into the driver’s seat.

“You got everything you need?” Jeonghan asks and you smile and nod.

“Yep! On to the next place.” 

The next store is less exciting than being in a toy store and it seems to be even busier. You and Jeonghan hold hands once more as you walk through the store. His humming to the Christmas music on the speakers calms you a bit, and you allow yourself to enjoy the Christmas spirit more.

You and Jeonghan make it through the store, and another one before you decide it’s time for a lunch break. You two find a cute Italian place to sit down and rest your feet. You’re waiting for your food to arrive when your phone dings and you see an Instagram notification. You open your phone to see Jeonghan has tagged you in a post.

The first photo is the two of you at the skating rink, your arms wrapped around each other. There are a few more photos. A photo of you holding your hot chocolate while looking at the lights. The selfie you two took in front of the tree in the plaza. The final photo is a photo of you putting an ornament on your own tree at home. The post is captioned Christmas 🎄🎁☕.

“Our friends are going to think we’re crazy,” you tell Jeonghan. In theory, your friends know you and Jeonghan are sleeping together, but you’ve never explicitly said it, and they most definitely don’t know that Jeonghan is spending Christmas at your house.

“So? Let them. Those are cute photos.” You can’t argue with that and you drop a like and repost it to your story.

When you finish up lunch there’s one more store you two have to hit. There are only a few odd and end items left and you can’t wait to get home. You and Jeonghan are looking at sweaters when you feel someone bump into you and you lurch forward a bit.

“Watch it,” the man growls.

“Hey!” Jeonghan shouts, wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you.

“What?” The man turns back around.

“You bumped into my girlfriend.” Despite this not being the moment to get flustered, hearing Jeonghan call you his girlfriend even without your family around sends butterflies into your tummy.

The man and Jeonghan have a stare down for a moment before the man huffs out a pathetic “sorry” before walking off. 

“Thanks Han,” you say before you place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Well, some people just belong on the naughty-list,” he says, which makes you chuckle.

By late afternoon you two finally finish shopping and you get a text from your mom that tells you she’s taken your little brother to the grocery store so you and Jeonghan have time to get the gifts in the house without him seeing. You and Jeonghan quickly bring everything to your room before closing the door. You make sure to slip the present for Jeonghan under your bed before he notices and you then turn to him.

“Want to help me wrap these presents?”

“Of course.”

You and Jeonghan sit on the floor of your room, where Jeonghan soon finds out you’re awful at wrapping gifts.

“It’s so easy. It’s just folds and tape,” Jeonghan says as he places a piece of tape on the most perfectly wrapped present you’ve ever seen.

“Oh shush. I usually use gift bags okay? And now I have you, so you can wrap all of the presents from Santa, and I can do the rest,” you declare as you scribble a To: Mom onto the present you finished wrapping.

“Fine, but only because you’re the worst gift wrapping elf I’ve ever seen.”

Though you know it’s meant as an insult, you can’t help but smile at the cuteness of his sentence. You’re also just happy you don’t have to wrap more gifts than necessary.

It’s late when you wake up the next morning, due to the fact you went to bed late last night. You and Jeonghan stayed up to finish wrapping presents and then you two got onto talking about family Christmas tradition and before you knew it, it was two am. 

The bed is chilly and when you sit up to look, the other side of the bed is empty. You wrap a blanket around you and head downstairs to see Jeonghan and your mom sitting at the table talking. When you look out the window it’s a world of white and you start to feel giddy.

“It snowed!” You exclaim. “Hannie, we have to go play in it!”

You know it’s childish, but you can’t help it. You quickly get dressed and put on your winter coat and gloves before heading outside. A few minutes later, Jeonghan exits the house as well, your brother in tow. You search through your garage before you find your sleds and the three of you take a short walk to the park down the street. There’s a big hill next to it and you all take turns riding down it.

“C’mon, ride down together with me.” Jeonghan pats the space in between his legs on the sled and you climb on.

Jeonghan pushes off and then wraps his arms around your waist as you two go speeding down the hill. You can feel the snow fly back into your face and your sled goes tilting before you and Jeonghan are completely thrown off. You two land in a heap together and you both start giggling. You roll over in the snow and start to make a snow angel and Jeonghan does the same.

When you stand up and assess your work, you pull out your phone to snap a photo of the two angels next to each other. You’re just putting your phone away when you feel something cold and hard pelt you in the leg. You look over to see Jeonghan with a mischievous grin on his face, already aiming his next snow ball.

You quickly bend down to grab snow and form your own ammo, while also trying to dodge the onslaught of Jeonghan’s. You two go back and forth, throwing snow at each other, before Jeonghan finally ambushes you and grabs you by the waist and tackles you down into the snow.

You two are breathing heavily as Jeonghan hovers over you. There’s a twinkle in his eye and snow in his hair and you think that this might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen Jeonghan. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you reach up and grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him down to connect your lips to his.

Jeonghan melts into you, kissing you back. You two lay there in the snow, kissing, until you hear commotion next to you.

“Ewww.” You both pull apart to see your little brother standing over you two. You and Jeonghan both blush and Jeonghan climbs off of you before helping you up. “I’m getting cold, can we go back home now?”

Neither you nor Jeonghan make eye contact as you grab the sleds. Jeonghan gives your brother a piggyback on the way home when you get inside your brother pulls Jeonghan off to go play video games together. You’re grateful for the break, still a bit flustered from your intense kiss earlier.

You’re luckily able to ignore the boy for the most part for the rest of the day, until it’s time to go to bed. You and Jeonghan shuffle around each other awkwardly until you decide to finally bite the bullet.

“Hey, about the kiss earlier, I’m sorry. I-”

“No, it’s okay!” Jeonghan cuts you off. “Don’t worry I uh…I liked it.”

“O-oh, okay,” you mumble.

Neither of you say anything else as you two climb into bed. You’re not sure if you should move closer to Jeonghan until he reaches over to tug you towards him. You slot yourself into his arms, and you hope he can’t feel your heart beating a million beats per second.

You’re glad you didn’t make anything weird with Jeonghan, but now you’re afraid you may have made things a lot more complicated for yourself.

“You two are on cookie duty,” your mom tells you and Jeonghan as she bustles around the kitchen. She’s been stressed since you two woke up. You suppose that’s fair when it’s Christmas Eve, and it gives you a good reason to not think about you and Jeonghan.

“Can I help? I want to make cookies for Santa!” Your little brother exclaims.

“If you want to, buddy,” you tell him.

“Yay!”

“There’s a recipe book in the cupboard, and I should have picked up all of the ingredients the other day,” your mother continues.

“We’ve got it Mom, no stressing, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you Pumpkin.” Your mom kisses your cheek before running off to finish errands.

You clap your hands together. “Let’s get to baking.”

There’s several cookies your mom has requested you to make and you get to work on the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, while Jeonghan works on the sugar cookies. The chocolate chip cookies are fairly easy and you’re able to pop them into the oven while Jeonghan and your brother are cutting out shapes into the sugar cookies.

“This one is shaped as a snowflake,” your brother explains to Jeonghan as he stamps the dough.

“Ah, I see,” Jeonghan says and you grin. You work around them as you grab the flour to start making gingerbread.

Right as you’re walking past Jeonghan, he spins around, running into you and getting a cloud of flour all over both of you. You can hear your little brother giggling as Jeonghan huffs a laugh.

“You know, darling, this is pretty cliche,” Jeonghan says, still grinning.

“It would only be cliche if I smear frosting on the tip of your nose,” you tell him, continuing to walk past. “But, don’t count that out yet.” 

By the afternoon the house is warm and filled with the sweet scent of baked goods. The cookies are cooled and all three of you have already sneaked one or two for yourselves as you sit down to decorate. Your brother has been given the task of frosting the sugar cookies for Santa, while you and Jeonghan get to work building a gingerbread house.

“Look, not to brag, but I’ve come in second place every year for my family’s gingerbread house contest.”

“Second place? Why not first?” You snicker.

“Because my cousin is an architect, okay. It’s called an unfair advantage.”

You giggle once more. “If you say so, Hannie. Here, you can make the shingles with these.”

The two of you work in harmony, decorating the little house with all of the candy. When the house is finished you two move onto making the little gingerbread man.

“Look at little Hannie,” Jeonghan says, holding up the gingerbread man he just made. It’s decorated to look like Jeonghan, even done with his signature smirk.

“Very cute,” you tell him. “But your hair isn’t that long anymore.” You reach over and swipe some of the icing used to make his hair off of the cookie before reaching up to smear it on Jeonghan’s nose.

“Oh I see,” Jeonghan hums, doing his best to keep the grin off his face.

“I told you, don’t count it out yet.”

Before you can even stop him, Jeonghan is dipping into the bowl of frosting and swiping a streak over your cheek. You squeal as Jeonghan grins proudly. 

“There, now we’re even.” You fake pout at Jeonghan slightly and he playfully rolls his eyes before leaning in and kissing your cheek, right over the icing. When he pulls away, he’s licking his lips. “I’m sorry, but revenge just tastes so sweet, darling.”

It’s your turn to playfully roll your eyes now, not at all upset with Jeonghan’s antics.

You finish up your gingerbread self as well and place it next to Jeonghan’s in front of the house. Jeonghan pushes his towards yours even more, so their hands touch. “Look, they’re now holding hands.” 

“You’re so stupid,” you tell him, but you’re smiling.

“You like that I’m stupid,” Jeonghan teases.

“Maybe…but only a little bit,” you say, but it’s enough to make Jeonghan grin from ear to ear.

It's a Christmas tradition in your house to spend Christmas Eve watching everyone’s favorite Christmas movies, and this year your brother is actually able to make a suggestion. 

“Jeonghan, sweetie, you get to suggest a movie as well,” your mother tells him as she readies the hot chocolate.

“Really? I wouldn’t want to impose?”

“You should know by now you’re not imposing, and if anything, it’s Christmas Eve, you deserve to have some cheer as well. It will be nice to have something new in the lineup of movies.”

Your mom starts to pour the hot chocolate into mugs before sliding the reindeer shaped mug towards your brother. It’s his favorite cup to use, even when it’s not the Christmas season, though it was originally gifted to you.

“No Mom, let Jeonghan have it.” Your brother declares as he pushes the mug towards Jeonghan.

“For me? Thank you!”

You lean in towards Jeonghan. “He must really like you. He doesn’t even let me use that mug, and it belongs to me.”

After the hot chocolate and cookies have been passed out to everyone (and your brother has set some out for Santa), you all move into the living room. Your parents sit in their chairs and your little brother places himself on the floor right in front of the TV. You and Jeonghan move over to the couch where you naturally slot yourself into his arms, you two cuddling up together as you throw a blanket over your laps.

The first movie of the night is your brother’s choice, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It’s a classic and you can’t be mad at the choice. The whole time Jeonghan keeps making jokes only loud enough for you to hear and you keep giggling, causing your brother to glare at you, causing you to elbow Jeonghan in his side.

“You better not distract me when we’re watching my movie,” you warn Jeonghan.

Jeonghan throws his hands up in fake surrender. “Oh darling I wouldn’t dare.”

Your favorite Christmas movie is A Charlie Brown Christmas and you make your family watch it every year. For you, it never gets old, and you watch it with what can only be described as stars in your eyes. You know Jeonghan finds it amusing, but you can’t help your love for all things Peanuts and something about that silly little Christmas tree brings you joy.

Instead of your parents choosing a movie, Jeonghan gets to choose this year, and you’re thankful you don’t have to watch your dad’s choice, A Christmas Story. Instead Jeonghan chooses the Jim Carey version of The Grinch, which makes you grin wide.

“That’s my second favorite Christmas movie. Did you know that?”

“Nope, I guess we just have great taste, darling.”

“Of course we do. I mean, we’re dating each other,” you flirt and you watch Jeonghan duck his head in embarrassment.

Jeonghan shifts his position so you’re sitting in between his legs, leaning back against him. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder. It’s cozy and your heart feels full at the moment.

You know none of it is real, that it’s all fake for something as trivial as birth control, but right now, you so desperately want it to be real. Enough that you’ll let yourself believe it is, even if it’s just for a moment.

It’s late when the movie is finished and your brother is doing his best to keep his eyes open.

“Hey little man, if you don’t go to bed soon, Santa won’t come,” you tell him as you pick him up in your arms.

“B-but Santa has to come,” he mutters in a sleepy voice.

“Well then let us put you to bed.” You carry your brother to his bedroom, Jeonghan following you behind.

“What if I can’t sleep? Is Santa still going to come?”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to sleep, buddy. Do you want us to read you a story?”

“Please?”

“Hey Han, there’s a copy of The Night Before Christmas in my room, could you go grab it?” You ask Jeonghan and he nods. He comes back a few minutes later, holding the book. He settles next to you on the bed and you hold the book open for your little brother to see.

You and Jeonghan take turns narrating the book until your little brother’s eyes droop down and he’s fast asleep. You and Jeonghan quietly sneak out of the room and slip into yours. Due to the presents being hidden in your room, it’s your turn to play Santa.

You and Jeonghan carry the presents to the living room before placing them under the tree. It looks picture perfect when you two are done. You and Jeonghan move over to the plate of cookies set out before both grabbing one and tapping them together.

“Cheers,” Jeonghan says.

“Cheers, to our success at playing Santa.” You both bite into your cookies, making sure to leave crumbs on the plate for your brother to see in the morning. You split the glass of milk, leaving a few drops at the bottom.

“Look.” Jeonghan points up and you catch sight of the spring of mistletoe. Your family has never been ones to do mistletoe and you wonder if your mom put it up this year just because she knew Jeonghan was going to be with you.

You’re surprised you didn’t see it earlier, but to be fair you haven’t been home much the past few days, and even when you have you haven’t been near the fireplace. 

Right then the clock in your house strikes midnight, and you lean in to kiss Jeonghan. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him, as you cup his face. You two kiss for what you’re sure is much longer than it needs to be before pulling away.

“Merry Christmas, Jeonghan.”

“Merry Christmas, darling.” 

“Santa! Santa, Santa, Santa! Santa was here!” You wake up to screaming and you barely have time to process what is happening when your bedroom door is flung open and there’s a tiny body attacking you and Jeonghan.

“Yeah, buddy, we know,” you mumble as Jeonghan yawns loudly. “We’ll be there in a second.”

“You better be.” With that your brother leaves and you and Jeonghan decide it’ll be best if you two make your way into the living room.

Your parents are both already in the living room, both of them looking tired as well. Your brother is eagerly sitting in front of the tree, inspecting each present as he waits for you and Jeonghan to shuffle over to the couch. Jeonghan sits down and you practically sit on his lap with how close you get to him, cuddling into his side, wishing you were still asleep.

“Merry Christmas! Say hi to the camera,” your dad says as he holds his phone up to record your little brother.

“Hi!” He says while waving enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! Can I open my presents now?”

Your mom chuckles before telling him to do so.

You watch with half interest as your brother opens his presents, doing your best to wake up. Jeonghan is warm against you, though, and it makes you more sleepy. It isn’t until your brother is almost done opening his presents from Santa that you’re awake.

As soon as your dad has picked up all of the wrapping paper, you move towards the tree to open your own presents. It’s nothing much, as you really only asked for clothes and a few other things for your apartment. The life of a college student.

When you’ve thanked your parents for your presents you hand them their presents from you. You’re satisfied at the giddy your little brother has for the dinosaur book you got him and he gives you a giant hug.

“Pumpkin, what’s that present left under the tree?” Your mom points at the final present under the tree.

“It’s my present for Jeonghan,” you say as you pick it up and hand it to the boy.

“You got me something?” Jeonghan asks you, a bit of awe in his face.

“Of course.” You sit down next to him and press a kiss to his cheek. “I hope you like it.”

Jeonghan rips the wrapping paper off to reveal the Lego set underneath, and Jeonghan gasps. There’s an excited grin on his face as he looks between the box and you.

“You got me this?”

“Yeah, I noticed the sets in your room and thought you’d like this. I know you play the bass but-”

Jeonghan cuts you off by lunging forward and kissing you. You melt into him, reciprocating the kiss. When you pull back, there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Thank you, it’s perfect.”

“Oh, let me take a photo!” Your mom exclaims. “Go stand in front of the tree.”

You know there’s not fighting your mom and you pull Jeonghan over. You press your sides together, smiling at the camera. Your brother wants on as well so you two pick him up and hold him between you two.

“Aww, my babies, you guys look so cute! Okay, now who wants breakfast?”

You’re standing on your back porch, watching the snow fall, when you hear steps approaching. When you turn around you’re not surprised to see Jeonghan approaching you.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything for Christmas. Let alone a Lego set.”

You shrug. “I wanted to. You’re doing this for me, and I wanted to give you something to show my appreciation.”

“Well thank you. It means a lot to me.” Jeonghan moves closer to you and wraps his arms around you. You accept his hug, snuggling into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything for you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to. You just being here is enough.”

Jeonghan pulls away from you slightly, so he can look you in the eyes. You can see him struggling to say what he wants to, before he eventually just spits it out. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“I…I’ve really enjoyed the past week, and it’s made me realize I need to be honest with you. I really like you, and I have since we first met. We had that first date which ended in us having sex, and when you never brought up a second date I kind of figured you just wanted to keep it on a physical level. I didn’t mind, but I guess I always kind of wanted it to be more,” Jeonghan admits. “And being here, and spending all this time together and not having sex, it kind of made me realize just how much I like you.” 

You can feel your heart beating in your chest as Jeonghan speaks. He likes you. Yoon Jeonghan likes you, and has had a crush on you since you first met. The notion makes your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You stare at him, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold and white snowflakes dotting his black hair. He looks like an angel.

“I understand if you don’t like me back, but I needed to tell you that. I’m not sure what this means for us but-”

It’s now your turn to cut Jeonghan off with a kiss. Your hold on him tightens as you pull him into you and Jeonghan eagerly accepts. He moves his hands to cup the back of your neck, holding you gently as he deepens the kiss. You’re both a little breathless when you pull apart and Jeonghan has a giant smile on his face.

“I like you too. A lot. And being here made me realize I want this to be real, if you do too.”

“Yes. I would love that.”

“Well then, I hate to inform you that I don’t think we can be fake dating anymore, as I have a very real boyfriend.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes. And he’s very handsome and talented and a very good kisser.”

“Well it’s a good thing I also have a very real girlfriend, who is also a very good kisser.” Jeonghan’s face gets closer to yours as he talks before he leans in fully at the end, kissing you once more.

“Your father and I are going to go look at Christmas lights with your brother. Would you two like to join?” You mom pokes her head into your bedroom where you and Jeonghan are cuddled up on your bed, watching a movie.

You've been spending the day just enjoying each other's presence. You've also been answering sporadic texts from your friends, asking about you and Jeonghan after your Instagram post earlier.

You posted the photo of you kissing his cheek in the ice rink, the photos your mom took this morning, and a photo of your gingerbread men holding hands, captioned My favorite present this year ♡. Your friends have been hounding you about it since.

You glance at Jeonghan and down at your laptop before turning to your mom.

“I think we’ll just stay here,” you tell her.

She just smiles at you two. “Okay, have fun. We’ll probably be gone for a few hours.” Neither you nor Jeonghan miss the wink she sends you two.

You can hear the garage door open and close as your family leaves and you and Jeonghan both glance at each other. You’re not quite sure what the rules are on how long you should wait to have sex after becoming a couple, but then again, it’s not like you and Jeonghan haven’t fucked before.

“Do you want to-”

“You know just because we-”

You both stop talking when you realize the other one is. You gesture for Jeonghan to continue.

“Just because we’re now officially dating, doesn’t mean we can’t still have sex,” Jeonghan says. “Unless you want to wait.”

“No, I actually was going to ask if you uh, wanted to have sex.” You almost feel awkward, talking about it, like you two haven’t been hooking up on the regular for over a year.

You’re relieved of the uncomfortableness as soon as Jeonghan turns to kiss you. After a week of kissing for show, it’s nice to finally kiss him for yourself. As strange as it might be, it feels nice to kiss Jeonghan like this. Though you’re excited to see where dating Jeonghan takes you, hooking up is how you know him best.

Jeonghan moves your laptop off your laps and climbs on top of you, pressing you into the bed. Though you’re used to sleeping with Jeonghan, there’s still a new air to this. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jeonghan so eager to fuck you, but you can’t say you’re complaining at all. 

Your lips slide together, deepening the kiss, as Jeonghan’s hand ghosts your waist. You can feel his tongue swipe against your lips right as he starts to push his hand up under your shirt. You gasp when you feel his hand grope your tits and Jeonghan takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You whimper as you feel his hand slide under your bra as well, his fingers playing with your nipples. His tongue explores the inside of your mouth and you suck on it slightly before pulling away all together. As you take a moment to catch your breath, Jeonghan moves down to suck at your neck.

“F-fuck, Hannie,” you whine.

“So pretty, darling,” Jeonghan mutters.

You push Jeonghan off of you slightly, so you can remove both your shirt and bra. With your chest now bare, Jeonghan takes the liberty of wrapping his lips around your nipple. He flicks the bud with his tongue, while his hand shows the other one some love. Your body arches up into his touch as you feel your cunt clench down around nothing, desperate to have him inside of you.

Jeonghan must realize this as well, and he pops his mouth off of you. “Want me to touch you, pretty girl?”

“Please,” you beg. You wiggle your hips a bit and Jeonghan chuckles as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and slides both your pajama pants and underwear off in one go. Like he’s on autopilot, Jeonghan reaches down and starts to rub at your clit with two fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet already. Do you want my fingers or my mouth?”

“D-don’t care,” you mutter, already enjoying the pleasure of his fingers pressed against you. “Pick one. Both. Whatever. Just please, don’t stop touching me.”

You gasp a bit when Jeonghan pushes your legs apart even further, allowing himself to slip in between them. He leans down and starts to kiss your thighs, leaving small nips every once in a while. When it’s clear you’re too impatient for this, Jeonghan closes the gap between his mouth and your pussy, pressing a kiss to your entrance. From there, it only gets messier as Jeonghan darts his tongue out to lap at your arousal. He licks a thick strip along your slit, stopping at your clit so he can wrap his lips around it. You moan as you feel him suck on the bud.

His hands are holding on tight to your thighs, keeping them apart. His tongue swirls around your clit and you buck your hips up as your hands fly to grip onto the sheets. You’re sure you look pathetic, but you don’t care if it means you can get head this good.

His mouth switches between sucking your clit and licking at your entrance. You’re dripping slick now, even as Jeonghan licks it up. He buries his face between your thighs deeper, and you’re sure his face is a mess now. He drags his teeth against your sensitive clit and you whine loudly.

Jeonghan seems to be happy with his affect on you and he finally gives attention to how empty you feel. His finger rubs your slit for a second before he pushes it inside of you. You’re completely drenched and his finger glides in with ease, allowing him to slide a second one in not long after. 

His mouth is still working at your clit as he fucks a third finger into you. He thrusts them deeper each time, curling them back to hit the soft spot of your walls. It pays off to have someone know your body so well, and you can already feel your brain going fuzzy as Jeonghan knows all the right places to hit.

Your abs tighten as you can feel yourself approaching your orgasm. Your thighs clamp down around Jeonghan’s head as a warning, and then you’re shaking as you reach your high. You moan freely, your hands grasping at the sheets, as Jeonghan continues to work you through it.

When your body has calmed down, you sink into the bed, allowing yourself to rest for a moment. Jeonghan has finally come up for air, his whole face shiny with your arousal. You grab him a tissue and he wipes off his mouth and fingers.

“You’re turn,” you whisper as you push Jeonghan down onto the bed. He’s still completely dressed you and push his shirt up to kiss down his stomach before pulling down his pants and underwear like he did to you. 

His cock springs free, fully hard and leaking. You slot yourself between his legs and waist no time taking the tip in between your lips. You suck gently before working your way down his length. After doing this many times, you’ve had practice taking him, and you can completely get his whole cock down your throat.

Though Jeonghan isn’t very blessed in the girth department, his cock is the longest you’ve ever been with, being able to reach deep inside you and down your throat. You bob your head up and down, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, before you pop off his cock, wrapping your lips around the shaft as your hand fondles his balls.

Your tongue darts out so you can run it against his cock, swirling it around the rim of his tip. You can hear the stuttered breathing of Jeonghan above you, as you back to sucking at the head of his cock. His pre-cum coats your tongue, and you have to admit, the salty taste brings you joy.

“G-gonna cum,” Jeonghan mumbles before he’s spilling his load right into your mouth. You do your best to catch it all, but some still slips out and drips down your chin, which you think makes Jeonghan cum even harder. “Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

You pull your mouth off of Jeonghan, swallowing the rest of the cum in your mouth, and Jeonghan groans. You crawl back up to Jeonghan’s face, kissing him. If the fact you just had his dick in your mouth bothers Jeonghan, he doesn’t show it.

“Need you in me, Hannie,” you tell him.

“Okay baby,” Jeonghan responds. He flips you over, so you’re laying on your back. He removes his shirt, so you’re both completely naked, before leaning down to kiss you again.

You’re not sure how his cock is still hard, despite just cumming, but you can’t complain when you feel him rubbing his tip against your slit. His kiss deepens as he pushes inside of you, your walls clenching down to mold against his cock.

You try to relax, but he feels so good sliding into you. After a moment he’s fully inside of you, his tip pressed snug up against your cervix. Jeonghan slowly slides out of you before slamming back in. Your pussy is soaking wet and you’re sure Jeonghan’s cock is drenched, if the wet squelch was any indicator.

Jeonghan starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, building up his pace as he goes. Your thighs hug his hips as you wrap your legs around him and your fingers dig into his back. You can feel his mouth suck at your collarbone as he slams into you harder.

His cock reaches deep in you, the drag of his cock against your walls causing your brain to go even more incoherent. All you can think about is Jeonghan and his body against yours and his cock fucking you so good. There’s a reason you’ve let him hit with no strings attached for so long, it’s just even better now that you can fully call him yours.

“You feel so good around me,” Jeonghan mumbles into your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

“Love your cock,” you mumble back. “So deep inside.”

“Fuck, need you to ride me.”

You and Jeonghan take a moment to reposition and then you’re bouncing in his lap. Your grip onto his shoulders tight for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. His cock hits as a new angle in this position and all you can do is moan like a bitch in heat. 

Jeonghan reaches down and grabs onto your ass, guiding you up and down his cock as he squeezes the flesh. Your tits are bouncing wildly in Jeonghan’s face and he leans forward, sucking one into his mouth. You throw your head back as your eyes flutter close, lost in your pleasure. 

Your thighs get tired at some point and you start to just grind against him, his cock curving up into you at just the right angle. Jeonghan can sense your neglected clit and he reaches down to start rubbing circles into it. Your cunt clenches down, and both you and Jeonghan can tell you’re about to cum soon.

“Need your cum, Hannie,” you tell him, your words slurring together. “Fill me up.”

“Anything for you, darling,” Jeonghan says, half delirious himself.

It only takes one final jerk of your clit to have you trembling around him. Your pussy walls fluttering against his cock as you fall forward against Jeonghan, your body twitching as you cum. You can feel Jeonghan’s cock throbbing inside of you as he cums as well, filling you full of his seed.

You both lay like that for a while, with Jeonghan still inside of you as you exchange soft kisses. When it’s clear you need to get up, you slowly lift yourself off of Jeonghan’s cock, and you can feel his cum slide out of you. 

“Fuck, we need to wash my sheets,” you mumble.

“Okay, but let’s cuddle for just a bit longer.” And well, you can’t say no to that.

“Oh, we hate to see you two go,” you mom says as Jeonghan finishes putting your things into your car. “Visit soon, okay? And bring Jeonghan as well.”

“Yes Mom, I will.” You lean in to hug her.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay with you guys over break,” Jeonghan tells your mom and she pulls him into a hug as well.

“Thank you for being such a good guest. And for being such a good boyfriend to our Pumpkin. Visit soon, okay sweetheart?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan smiles at your mom.

“Bye-bye!” Your little brother says as he hugs your leg. You reach down and pick him up so you and Jeonghan can hug him in between you two. You press a kiss to his cheek.

“Bye, buddy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Seen you soon!” You let him down and he runs off.

“Text me as soon as you get to your apartment.”

“I will. Okay, we really have to go.”

“I love you,” your mom says as she kisses your cheek.

“I love you too.” 

“Okay bye Pumpkin, bye Jeonghan.” You both wave before climbing into the car.

As you take off you reach over and grab Jeonghan’s hand. 

“Well it seems this was a successful trip,” Jeonghan says.

“Very,” you agree.

You not only got a boyfriend, but now you don’t ever have to tell your mom you lied to her to get on birth control. It’s really a win-win situation in your eyes.

You glance over at Jeonghan to see him already staring back at you. Yeah, it truly is a win.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @lovelyhan @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @lllucere @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @violetvoo @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @chwecardcaptor @dinoissupreme @speaknowlwt @hyneyedfiz @aaniag @shamayyyy @moonwalker-witchgrrrl @nidda13 @walkingtravesty97 @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @sunnyteume @seuomo @tinkerbell460

[writingroom21]

Girls On Film

pairing: pornstar!Rafe x pornstar!Reader

Summary: Running away from home to become a pornstar was never in your books. Having to move in with some asshole wan't in it either. Surely living in a house with someone you dislike can't be hard. It's just work, that's all it is. Right?

Warining: 18+, smut, fingering, masturbation, oral (m receiving), teasing, (let me know if I missed any)

Wc: 4.3K

Say Hello To The Camera

The girls around you all seem so confident. All dressed in minimal clothing, caked in makeup, sultry smiles plastered on their faces. You feel out of place, not fully but it feels like you don’t belong there. You’re dressed in a skirt and crop top with minimal makeup, you look more natural. Everyone there seemed like they were made for this life and you were the only one who wasn’t. It was like all eyes were on you, which isn’t something new.

You grew up in a small town, everything you did was broadcasted for the whole town. You learned that at a young age after your dad left your mom for his mistress. It was all anyone could talk about. All the parents were talking about it and then all the kids at school talked about it. Your life was the laughing stock of the town.

From then on your mother made you have a certain image, keeping you on a tight leash. She needed you to be picture perfect so you wouldn’t bring shame to your family. You were never allowed to date, go to parties, or even have sleepovers. That just made everyone at school pick on you more because you were the perfect little girl. You hated being perfect.

Once you hit puberty boys started to notice you and you couldn’t even react. The first time you’ve ever been kissed was when you were playing truth or dare at a party you snuck out to in highschool. Being a horny teenager who’s scared to lose her virginity so as to not disobey her mother is pretty hard. It was also hard to sneak the fact that you eventually did at senior prom. 

You remember having to face you mom late that night. All the questions still clear in your mind. Everything you’ve done was to make her happy, hiding who you were so she would approve of you. All the sneaking around and keeping a low profile is the only thing you really know. So being here is like a culture shock to what you grew up with.

So to say all of this is sort of overwhelming is an understatement. 

The number you were given when you first walked in was called out. Reluctantly you get up and walk over to the person waiting for you. This is what you wanted, you left home to do something that intrigued you. Since you were sixteen you’ve been watching porn. It became a habit for you and slower you started exploring yourself to find out you really like sex. That’s why you moved out of your small town and moved to Charleston. It was the closest porn company to you.

Also a move that you could actually afford, California is too far away and you barely have money. This is what you wanted, so why are you so afraid? The room looks practically sterile. White walls and clean furniture carefully placed in the room. There’s three people sitting at a table watching as you walk in like hawks. Two guys and a girl, then a camera placed directly beside them. The little red light is on, signaling they were already recording.

“What’s your name?” One of the guys asks you. “Oh um.” You tell them your name. Their eyes scan down your body, watching your every move. You stand there perfectly still with a smile on your face. “You know you’re going to have to come up with a name if you get any further in this.” You take a deep breath. “I know.”

They all look at each other, the lady looks at you. “Can you take your clothes off for us sweetie? We want to see what you look like.” Nervously you strip from your clothes. You’re left in a tiny pair of panties that cover nothing. They write down on note pads, taking notes about your appearance. “Why don’t you touch yourself?”

Without a second thought you start to drag your hand slowly on your body. Fingertips skimming your skin to reach your nipples, pinching them between your fingers. For a couple of minutes you play with your breast, giving them a squeeze and pushing them together. Your nipples are hard from all the playing. One of the guy’s mouth drops when you slip your panties off and make your way over to the couch.

Sitting down you spread your legs, exposing yourself to the room. Your left hand spreads your pussy as the right toys with your clit. Moans slip from your lips as you continue to play with yourself, a finger dipping in. You open your eyes and smile at the camera, slipping another finger in. The two fingers scissor you open, curling to give you the best pleasure ever.

The three of them watch in awe as you finger yourself, bringing yourself to the very edge of an orgasm and stopping. Only to continue the cycle once again. By the time you actually cum both of the guys are close to cumming in their pants. The lady’s panties are soaked and she’s not even into girls that way. You were a star in the making.

“So when can you come in next?”

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

“No, I'm not doing it.” The voice on the other end sighs. “Rafe you can’t just ignore this. I’m telling you this girl is different.” Jared, his manager, tries to reason with him. “I’m not going to work with someone who doesn't know how to do anything. Find someone else to do it.” He’s honestly tired of them trying to get him to do castings. This has to be the fourth one he’s turned down. 

It’s always the same thing, Jared calls him and it’s something below his pay grade. “Listen Rafe, you’re good but you need to do this. I don’t know how many times you can keep turning things down before they find another new pretty face. Trust me when I tell you, this girl is something else.” He knows he has to do it. There’s only so many times he can say no to them.

He’s been in the industry for a year and made them a lot of money but that doesn’t mean someone else couldn’t. “How much?” He’s walking around his kitchen opening cabinets to see what he can eat. “$2,000 just to do the screen test. Then you both get 20% of the profits made. Think about it after every $5,000 you would get $1,000. With her, trust me this will make you rich.”

Rafe thinks about it as he opens up a cereal box and takes a handful of it. “I’ll do it but I want 3,000 for just doing it. You know I don’t like working with newbies.” The guy on the other end laughs out loud, the vibrations ringing in his ear. “We’ll see if you still have that attitude after. The shoot is at three so you better get here for two. You should get to know her a little.”

He looks at the clock on the stove and sees that it's twelve already. “Yeah whatever I’ll be there.” Hanging up, he takes another handful of cereal and goes to get ready. He makes sure to wash with extra hot water to be squeaky clean, scrubbing down his body to be as clean as possible. Next he grooms himself by trimming his pubes, leaving them at a good length so they aren’t all over the place.

The whole time he keeps cursing himself for not having in his contract NO CASTINGS. It’s not that he has something against them, it's just he would rather not do them. They’re great to watch, especially when you can tell they are really new to everything. He would rather be on the watching end than the receiving end. The girls just seem to over do it when you’re the one they are with.

Rafe would rather be paired with someone who’s been in the industry long enough to be comfortable on camera, not shy and awkward. He’s frustrated the whole drive there, slamming the car door when he gets out. This is so stupid. He thinks, greeting everyone as he walks by. He walks into the green room where Jared and Liz are waiting for him, but when he enters it's just you.

You’re just sitting there  going through different porn magazines. “Who are you?” His voice scares you. Looking up from the page you meet blue eyes, you tell him your name a bit distracted by him. He has to be one of the cutest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s tall, well built, god his buzz cut is to die for, plus his arms would be good for putting you in a headlock. Overall you would say he’s really fucking hot.

“Oh the new girl right?” A bit nervous about meeting your potential costar you squirm under his gaze. “Um yeah. Are you Rafe?” You’re picking at the skin around your fingers, a nervous habit you’ve gained over the years. Just further proof that Rafe doesn’t want to be here, you’re new. Not just to the industry but to all of it. He’s seen it before with other co-workers.

They get paired with the new girl and boy is she new. Never sucked a dick and sure as hell never been fucked. It’s not hard to spot those types of new girls, they dress differently from the ones who have lost their virginity. Their demeanor is different, you can just tell by looking at them. That’s what Rafe sees as he looks at you. Some little girl who doesn’t even know where pleasure begins or ends. You looked like the embodiment of virginity, pure like the coke he takes. 

He’s going to eat you alive.

“Are you sure you should be here?” The look of confusion on your face is met with his closed off stare. “So you’re not Rafe?” His stare gets more intense. “I am. Are you going to answer my question?” You scoff at him. “Well considering they asked me back, yeah I would say I should be here? Should you? I feel like they have rules about being a dick.” You may have been the nice girl growing up but that's because you were forced to. You are tired of being her and everyone always looking down at you.

“That’s a smart mouth you got there. Hope you know how to use it.” Rafe’s steps echo as he walks to the couch you are sitting on. “Well I hope your dick is not as small as you make it out to be. Would feel bad for the girls you work with.” It’s surprising how quick you are with your comebacks. It’s like you don’t even think before talking back to him.

As he watches you, he sees your leg bouncing just another sign of why you shouldn’t be here. He may like the way you talk back but this isn’t a place for a girl like you. Just as he was about to make a snide remark the door bursts open. Liz walks in first then Jared and finally Micky. “Alright sweetie, figure out a name for us yet?”

All eyes are on you waiting for your response. “Maisy Day.” Rafe wants to laugh at the name, Maisy out of all things? “Sweet and innocent. Great job.” But Micky has a point, it sounds flowery if that even makes sense. It’s like he would find you out in the middle of a field, all innocent waiting for him to ravage you. On second thought maybe he can get used to the idea of this.

“It’s a simple blowjob seen okay. Rafe you will be recording everything on this camera.” Jared places the camera on the table in front of them. “He’s going to be recording you and just try to go with the flow on this one. We want to see how you are behind the camera a bit more and then you’ll get a script.” You shouldn’t be nervous, you’ve seen plenty of these videos, even practiced with the dildo you had.

Now that it’s getting closer to being real it’s scary. “Alright let’s get started.” Like second nature, Rafe picks up the camera and points it at you. The red light turns on after he presses the record button. He’s leaning the lens down, getting you sitting on the couch in the frame. You look so pretty sitting there for him, even prettier when you slide down to your knees.

“Smile at the camera baby. Tell them your names.” Sitting back on your knees looking up at the camera in Rafe’s hand with a smile. “Hi my name’s Maisy and I’m your new wet dream.” You seal it with a kiss and wink towards the lens. The camera picks up your hands as they unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down. Rafe can’t help but get excited when he sees how much you’re ready to suck him off. 

He doesn’t get why he was so upset about having to do this screen test in the first place. Seeing you on your knees for him was enough compensation. He tries to calm the excitement because he still has a chance of being right. You seem good so far but that can only last for so long. “Oh fuck.”

The words slip out before his brain can even catch up. Your tongue licks up from the base to his tip, swirling it around before giving it a kiss. “You like that?” The way you tilt your head slightly is making your head spin. Then your lips wrap around him and give him a nice suction. Whatever can’t fit in your mouth is occupied by your hand. Rafe’s other hand grips a fist full of your hair, helping to guide your movements. 

“Just like that baby. Such a good girl aren’t you?” The moan you let out is muffled by him, the vibrations adding to his pleasure. He’s getting so lost in the moment looking at you from the lens and in person. So lost that he didn’t realize he was thrusting into your mouth or that your hand slipped under your skirt.

Only when you let out a particularly loud moan did he finally realize what you were doing. “Are you rubbing your pussy right now?” Your closed eyes open wide from being caught. “I thought you were a good girl, just a slut in disguise aren’t you? Bet you touch yourself every night to the thought of someone fucking you good.” Your eyes close on instinct as your fingers increase their speed.

You’re matching your strokes to his thrust, trying to feel what he felt. He maybe an asshole but he’s a hot one. You honestly wouldn’t mind fucking him. Rafe looks over his shoulder to see the three of them just watching what is unfolding. The clock right behind them shows that only two minutes had passed and he was ready to blow his load.

Not wanting to be embarrassed of cumming too early he pulls your hair back as his hips retreat from your face. He rubs his dick over your face as you give it open mouthed kisses when you could. “Lay back on the couch.” Your tilting your head again but this time in confusion. “Come on baby. Don’t make me punish you.”

Following his instructions you get up and lay down on your back. He joins you on the couch sitting on his knees between your legs. Lifting your skirt up, he focuses the camera on your pussy, using his fingers to spread you out for everyone to see. “Such a pretty pussy.” He brings the lens back up, positioning it so it catches his tip playing with you.

You squirm under him as he rocks his hips back and forth. The girth on him spreads your lips with each stroke perfectly hitting your clit. He continues like this for a few more minutes, teasing you every step of the way. Giving you a few strokes and almost putting the tip in and backing out. Just when you think he’s going to go past the tip, bury himself deep within you, he just psychs out.

It was driving you all mad. “Please.” The voyeurs in the room don’t know what to do. They told Rafe just a simple blowjob, but this. This doesn’t really feel like they should be here, which is new to them. “Awww the poor baby, can’t take a little teasing.” You whine more at his words. “Shhh it’s okay. You can handle it.” The only sensation you get is from him sliding between your lips. 

He’s trying not to touch anymore of you, afraid that you’ll be burned into his skin forever. You’ve taken him by surprise and he doesn’t like when someone else has control. To him this is his way of overpowering you. He wants to be ingrained in your brain before you run off to fuck someone else. Let’s face it, Jared was right, there is something about you. 

Bringing his right hand down, he places his thumb right under his tip adding pressure to his strokes. With only a few more strokes your mouth drops open, letting out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard. He couldn’t stop himself from cumming if he wanted to, his hips still moving to milk himself.

He leans back a tiny bit more to catch all of the mess he made of you. Your pussy is covered in his cum, coating you in white film. He spreads it around a little more, marking his territory. “Look at what a mess you are. Tsk. What am I going to do with you?” Eyes track your hand that moves down your body and how the fingers gather some of his cum. His eyes flicker up to yours as you give the camera an angelic smile. 

Blue eyes are trained on your movements, seeing what you’ll do next. What he didn’t expect was for you to wrap your lips around those fingers and hum at the taste. Once the fingers leave your mouth you have him letting out a moan himself. “I’m sorry. I can still be your good girl right?” His moan is involuntary, slipping out before he can fully process your words.

Gathering his cum himself he brings it back to your lips, watching as your tongue licks it up before your lips wrap around his fingers. “Yeah baby you can be my good girl.” As if the fog that clogged his brain cleared his head he realized what happened. He went completely off target and he doesn’t really care. 

Carefully he moves around and turns off the camera, getting up to find something to clean you with. The gentleness is a stark contrast to how he acted with you earlier. Not that you are complaining, it’s nice to think he cares even though he doesn’t know you. Flipping your skirt back down you get up and look at Liz. Her eyes are somewhat wide, looking between the two of you. 

“That.” The voice was squeaky, Micky clears his throat to fix it. “That was wow. Umm great job guys. I’ll take the camera and the two of you are all set.” The three of them leave and it’s just the two of you once again. “Still think I shouldn’t be here?” Rafe’s turns to you at the sound of your voice. “Never said I didn’t.”

You hum at him as you grab your bag. “Didn’t need to. Your question and body language said it all.” Maybe he was actually wrong about you, maybe that good girl act is just an act. He watches as you walk out of the room, blowing him a kiss over your shoulder.

That night when he’s trying to go to bed all he can think about was you.​ The way you looked, smelt, smiled, fuck the way your mouth felt around him. Every painful image flickered through his head like an old film. You were just plastered on the big screen, his very own porno right before his eyes once again. Before he knows it, his hand makes it’s way into his loose sleep pants. He’s hard as a rock just by thinking back to earlier. His orgasm was embarrassingly quick, a new world record honestly.

It didn’t get any better in his sleep. Every dream was about taking you in different positions and shutting your smart mouth up. When he woke up in the morning he was was painfully hard, precum seeping from the tip. He had to get himself off twice just to feel normal again. It still didn’t stop you from infiltrating his mind, plaguing all of his thoughts.

By the time it hit afternoon, he was ready to drive right into a wall to stop the thoughts. Not once has anyone made him such a mess. He’s literally slept with hundreds of girl, what makes you different? He’s seen them all, the really good girls to brats that need to be tammed, yet you are the one who does him in.

He’s honestly thankful that it was just that you two didn’t actually have to sleep together. The thought of that alone is enough to want to make him quit, he would never be the same again after that. But that’s not who he is, he’s Rafe Cameron. Girls are the one’s wo fawn over him and get obsessed not the other way around.

It has been five days since the shoot. He wonders if you are thinking about it as much as he is. If you touch yourself at the thought of him like he’s been doing. It’s a shock he even cares if you are or not. It shouldn’t even matter to him. In the middle of his pity party, his phone vibrates on the couch cushion next to him. He sighs when he sees it’s Jared. Great another casting. “Hello?” 

“Dude you need to get down here as fast as you can.” Jared’s voice isn’t one of anger but more of excitement. “Why?” Rafe feels like this is a trick to get him to go do another casting. He doesn’t have any shoots lined up for a bit since he decided to take a little vacation. They were lucky he even went in last time. “Do you always have to argue with me? Just get down here.”

Reluctantly he gets up and fishes his keys off the hook by the door. The whole ride many scenarios are playing out. One is of him going in and finding out it actually was another casting. Two you reported him for not following the “script” they gave you. Three they decided he isn’t worth dealing with anymore. Every scenario seems worse then the last.

Walking into Jared’s office he’s greeted with the sight of Liz and you. His eyes widen when he sees you look over your shoulder at him. There’s a little smirk that is rubbing him in the wrong way. Ironic considering you seemed good at it the other day. “What’s all of this?” He takes a sear on the chair next to you.

“The two of you are a hit. I mean the number are crazy and it just released.” Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Next to him you are internally freaking out. Just how many people actually saw it? “What?” You both say in unison. Liz sits down on the edge of the desk closer to you. “Sweetie we have a deal for you. We want to sign you on and start you on your first project.” 

You sit up and lean closer to her. “Wait really?” The excitement in your voice is noticeable from a mile away. Rafe stares in confusion. “What does this have to do with me?” Liz and Jared give each other a look. “Well we also have an offer for you.” Jared starts off. “For fucks sake. We want the two of you on this project together. Everyone loved seeingf the of you and it would be a lot of money.” 

“No way.” The words fly out faster than he means it. Your shoot him a death glare. Who does he think he is? “I agree I don’t want to work with some dick.” He slowly turns his head to look at you. “At least I belong here. You probably wouldn’t even last long.” He doesn’t like the smile you are giving him right now. “You would know all about that wouldn’t you? I got you off pretty quick last time and you didn’t even fuck me.” 

The clench of his jaw wasn’t hard to miss. It’s honestly such a shame his personality is awful. The man is attractive but the personality makes it hard to like him. After you got home from the shoot you went straight to the companies website and searched him up. Thousands of videos popped up and each one was screaming for you to watch. You aren’t ashamed to admit that you got off to them a couple of times.

But you are ashamed that you actually want to fuck him. You blame his looks, he’s too hot. This is like all of your fantasies coming to life. “Rafe can you stop being a dick for once. This is going to be huge, think of the money.” He actually stops to think about it, if they are right then he can’t pass it up. “Fine.”

All eyes are on you know, waiting for you to cave in. IF you’re beig honest you only said no because he turned it down automatically. It stung that he didn’t want to work with you. “Okay.” The two managers relax knowing that you both agreed. They whip out the contracts and hand them to you along with a pen. RIght before you could sign Liz says one last thing. “Oh yeah, you also have to live together for this. Now you can sign.”

“WHAT?”

[moonstruckme]

James Potter or tasm!peter parker fluff or comfort?? I dont mind whatever you write ill love 🙏🙏

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: implied past abuse

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Peter’s having a rough week. These things always seem to happen to him. He’s got a big presentation at work on Friday, by which time the project he’s been underfunded and understaffed for has to be finished. His Aunt May has been busy with work, too, so either you or Peter is at her place most nights trying to help out, except she seems to think when it’s Peter it’s familial responsibility but when it’s you it's an unfair burden, so it’s mostly been Peter. There’s also an impressively organized cell of criminals he’s been trying to investigate before they blow up a bank or something. So of course, he’s sleep deprived to boot. 

And while you know the rough edge of frustration in his voice isn’t meant for you, hearing it makes your skin tighten nonetheless. 

“How does a person run out of salt?” Peter stalks through the front door and straight into the kitchen. “Or maybe the better question is, why does it take going to three bodegas to find one with salt in stock?”  

He’s soaked from the rain, and you feel guilty for being all cozied up on the couch while he’s been running around the city. Maybe it’s irrational, but you feel sort of like you should have been stressed out and cold all night, too. In solidarity. 

“May didn’t have salt?” you guess as Peter opens the fridge, stooping low to peer inside. 

“You should see her pantry, babe. It’s like everything either expired at the turn of the century or got bugs in it. Hey, did you make anything for dinner?” 

“No.” You hesitate. “You told me you wanted to eat at May’s, so I had the leftovers from last night.” 

“Shit.” He closes the fridge, resting his forehead on the door. “You’re right. I totally forgot, I only made enough for her.” 

“I’ll make something now.” You stand. Peter gives you a look that conveys both apology and gratitude as you join him in your small kitchen. “You feel like pasta?” 

“Thank you,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly. 

“Course,” you murmur. Really, it feels like the least you can do. “Would you mind chopping up some basil?” 

“For my own dinner?” Peter teases. The levity in his voice is obviously forced, and the air between you heavies as he realizes you’ve heard it too. 

You almost don’t want to ask, but you do want to be a supportive girlfriend. You can lend him a compassionate ear. “How was work today?” 

He sighs, grabbing the cutting board from a cabinet near your feet and shutting the door with perhaps a tad too much force. 

“It was…ahh.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, stooping again into the white fridge light to find the basil. It casts dark shadows underneath his eyes. “You’ve gotta be sick of hearing about this.” 

“It’s okay. Unless you don’t feel like talking about it.” 

“No, it’s just, how do they expect us to stick to their tight schedule when half of my lab is being pulled away to other projects all the time?” Peter’s knife slices through the basil, hitting the cutting board with a sharp thunk. “Today, we were down one intern who caught the stomach flu, and it set us way back. One intern shouldn’t be that crucial to a big project like this!” 

You hum, ignoring the way the back of your neck prickles. The tension emanating from Peter is completely valid, your reaction a bothersome, purposeless souvenir from an old life. You find yourself staring into the pot of water and waiting for it to boil. 

“And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but all the rest of us are working extra hours to try and get this done in time.” 

Small bubbles in the bottom of the pot, rising tentatively to the surface. Peter’s knife thunks a quickening rhythm on the cutting board. 

“If they’d given us the money we asked for, we could have hired more people, been working with better equipment, but instead—” The water starts to rumble, steam warming your face. It’s thick in your throat. “—it’s like we don’t even work for a top-notch lab. Like, do they think we really believe they don’t have any resources to spare?”

Peter’s voice is rising, irritation sharpening his words. You reach to turn down the stove when big bubbles reach the surface, splattering hot onto your wrist. You ignore the sting. 

“My boss keeps talking about how important this presentation is,” Peter goes on, opening the cabinet next to your head and reaching inside, “but if it were really important, he’d have—” He slams the cabinet door. 

You both freeze. 

To anyone else, it would look like nothing—the way your expression stays perfectly still, your muscles stiffening just slightly, the invisible pause in your heartbeat. But Peter knows you. 

“Sorry.” He sounds as breathless as you feel. “I’m sorry. You okay?” 

“Mhm.” Despite your best intentions, your voice comes out pitchy. You can’t make yourself move in a way that feels natural, so you stay not moving at all. Steam wafting warm up onto your face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Peter says, tone softer than you’ve heard it in days. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to yell.” The roiling pot has calmed to a gurgle. You can see him swallow in your peripheral vision. “Can you look at me?” 

You take in what you hope is a subtle breath, turning to your boyfriend with a wan smile. “Sorry,” you manage. “I don’t know why I did that.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, brows bunched in the middle. Brown eyes like a puppy’s. 

He shifts his arms, a question, and you step into them. You do it more for him than for you, but the second Peter’s arms wrap around your back the last of the tension shudders out of you. You hug him back, rubbing between his shoulder blades reassuringly. 

“I scared you?” he asks, still in that soft voice like he’s afraid of startling you. It’s not really a question. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get so mad.” 

“You’re allowed to be mad,” you argue weakly. There’s an embarrassing blockage in your throat. “It’s not your fault if I freak out, you should still be allowed to vent.” 

“No, but I know how you are.” Peter squeezes your shoulders. “I can vent without slamming things. It’s not nice.” 

You don’t have much of an argument for that. Still, “You really shouldn’t be the one comforting me right now,” you point out. 

A light hum. “Says who? I’m feeling a lot better already.” His hand climbs up to cup the back of your neck, his face turning down so his lips rest on your head. “Should’a just gone straight for the hug when I got home. Might have saved us both a lot of ranting.” 

You push your face into his sweatshirt, mindless of its dampness. He smells like rainwater. You don’t know how you could ever have thought, even for a second, that someone like this could be capable of hurting you. 

“I’ll make a note of that,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, please do,” Peter teases, pressing a kiss to your head. He pulls away and sets two still-chilled hands on your face. “Are you really okay?” he asks sincerely. “I know how scared you get, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I did that to you.” 

“You didn’t mean to,” you tell him, “and it wouldn’t be your fault anyways. I’m really okay.” 

Your boyfriend nods, but he still looks troubled. “Another hug for good measure?” 

“For you or for me?” 

A corner of his mouth kicks up. “Does it matter?” 

It doesn’t really.