#when I was in college it was a pair of scissors I moved from my bedside table to my bed and back

[beauzos]

Just thought about this but I wonder. are most people able to just watch a movie or an episode of a show without having to pause multiple times just to think about other things. I know it’s probably not helpful to ask this on the neurodivergence website but I do wonder about it. Like I don’t think it’s abnormal to have to pause once or twice but is it weird I can’t sit through basically anything without pausing over and over again

Like the only way I can sit through something without interruption is if I’m playing a game. Otherwise I will pause every few minutes to think or to get up and do something random before coming back. I don’t think that’s normal but I’ve got no earthly idea what level of interruption IS

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn��t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[mistress-violence]

Prompt: Magazine from @into-the-jeggyverse (August 27)

Word count: 569 words

Pairing: Jegulus (modern AU)

⚠️ Warnings: masturbation assumptions

Regulus had already started unpacking the kitchen utensils while James, Sirius and Remus brought the last boxes into the house. He wanted to offer his brother and his brother's fiancé a tea after they offered to help him and James move in their new apartment. He forgot how chaotic the three of them can be when they are together though, which is why all the boxes were mixed up and out of place.

He managed to find the cups and cutlery in the bathroom and the kettle in the bedroom, but he wasn't successful in locating the kettle yet. He set aside a box full of books and one of toiletries, hoping the one at the bottom would be what he was looking for. Regulus raised his eyebrows when instead of the kettle he found a box with "College" written on it.

He knew it wasn't his, but the curiosity was too big. He took the scissors and cut the strip of tape from the top before opening it. Inside were things Regulus had expected: James' old football gear, his graduation album, pictures of James and his friends during college, little things that held memories from his student years. While looking among the small plush toys won at the carnivals and the penis-shaped magnets received at every birthday for the past 10 years (an inside joke in their group of friends), Regulus discovered something at the bottom.

James entered the front door with two boxes in hand, which he immediately placed in the hall. He briefly searched for Regulus around until he found him in the living room, looking over a Playboy magazine. His Playboy magazine from college...

Regulus immediately lifted his head with a look that was hard to describe. It was something between repressed anger, confusion and desire for blood.

"I can explain!" James said immediately, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Regulus didn't say anything, just popped his tongue and turned the open magazine towards James.

"What's going on here?" Sirius asked, appearing from behind James with a box in hand.

His gaze ran to the magazine and his mouth opened. It was an ad for Obscurius, a perfume from the Black family beauty line. Regulus' picture took up the entire page, with an expression that would make even a professional model jealous. It was a part of Regulus' dark past, when he was still under his mother's shoe, a loyal servant of Black beauty company. All kinds of hearts were drawn over the picture with red permanent marker.

"Can you explain this to me, Potter?" Regulus said, pressing each syllable.

"I swear I've had it since before I met you, Reg, I bought it for the tits!" James tried to defend himself, taking a step back.

"Why is the page sticky? What did you do with it, Potter?"

"I think I hear my phone ringing. Excuse me!"

"James Fleamont Potter, go right back and tell me why the pages are sticky!" Regulus shouted, running after his lover.

"What's with all this noise?" asked Remus, bringing the last boxes into the house.

Sirius was standing in the doorway, his hand over his mouth and a visible shock on his face. He received too much information about his friend's old habits than he wanted to know.

"Let's go home, now," Sirius hissed, trying to leave the apartment as quickly as possible with a confused Remus behind him.

[liliewrites]

aaaaa hello there! I'm new to your blog and I gotta say that u got a hottest way to write fics and I NEED to request a such good writer like you :::]

So there's been a fic scenario stuck on my head for when since I've been simping for arlecchino and I'd like to request it now that is 🏳️‍🌈 month: I imagine a school au where fem!reader is in the same class as arle and reader can't get along with her at all! So one day, teacher and classmates was talking about pride month and sexuality, she starts saying about that gay/lesbian/bisexuality(etc) are something ridiculous and that she doesn't agree with it, but it was all a lie as she hid the fact that she was a complete lesbian whose been obsessed with reader for long time😍, and when one day, reader was going somewhere in the highschool, we find arle pleasuring herself in a private place from school thinking about reader(u can decide where, idm) and reader caught her by accident, so she got all embarrassed but instead of pushing reader away, she just pulls reader in the same room as her as she confesses every feeling and well... You know what happens next ;)

Idk if it's too much to ask about adding scissoring, but I'd like that act to happen in the fic 🥺 ofc no forcing tho. Sorry if it's long! This was just my scenario, feel free to modify it as much as you want :) aND again, love ur writing sm 💕

HELLOOO ANONNN:DD THANK YOU FOR REQUESTINGG AND THANK YOU FOR LIKING MY FICS!! IT'S AN HONOR REALLYYY:)) I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I LIVE UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS!! eat well, anonn:D arlecchino will be referred to as peruere here, btw! as i find the name peruere cute and better suited for younger depictions of her:))

-warning/s ; slight homophobia, filthy ass smut, public sex, students (but to keep it safe, they'll be written as college/senior high students in mind.)

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men and minor please dni utc)

you didn't mean to eavesdrop, you weren't even sure how you heard their conversation. you were just minding your business, when you heard peruere and another one of your classmates' conversation.

"hey pers, have you heard of that silly little pride month thing?"

".. i have, but i do not wish to engage with it. homosexuality is nothing but a disgusting display of animalistic tendencies."

"sheesh. i gotta agree with you though. them gay people are weird. say you know that.. alhaitham guy? i heard he was.."

you immediately moved away as far as you could to not hear anymore of their conversation. you didn't want to hear anymore of this, it made your stomach churn since you weren't straight yourself. your impression of your two classmates turned a bit more sour. you made a mental note to be more weary of peruere since she seemed to be more negative regarding people like you.

but why was it..

why was it that you found yourself in quite the predicament?

after a few days from that awful conversation you heard that which you desperately tried to rip off of your mind. you were part of the group of students that were tasked to clean the classroom after class, but as pesky as your classmates were, they all slipped through your teacher to skip cleaning duty and you were the only one left. with an irritated sigh, you headed to the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies from the closet.

"mm.. ngh.."

you immediately froze as soon as you stepped in. surely, your ears were fooling you..? yet you heard it again, a moan. you didn't know whether to be scared or embarrassed. your feet were glued to the ground, you were scared to accidentally disturb the person who was.. well, doing their own business.

"a-ah.. y/n.."

your eyes widened. you knew to whom that voice belonged to. why was she, peruere, moaning your name?

you felt like you were shaking in your own shoes. you felt conflicted as to what to do right now, you knew you had to leave- but you just couldn't run away. you shook your head, no, you had to.

as you turned to leave for the door, you just had to trip over the broom you forgot you were holding in your hands. you fell to your front, a loud thud echoing throughout the bathroom- oh you are definitely dead now.

"who's there??"

you immediately got up and grabbed your stuff, but you heard the last stall's door click open. you fumbled, extremely panicked now as you knew she saw you. ".. oh, it's you."

"you heard me, didn't you?"

your felt your breath get stuck in your throat, but you shook your head. "no, i-i didn't know you were even here, i'm sorry.."

with a click of her tongue, you knew she knew you were lying. she grabbed you by the shoulder, making you face her with a pissed expression on her face. "you're lying." she said with a cold tone, her intense gaze casted upon you in a menacing way. "i-i won't tell anyone, i promise-"

your brain had shut off as she leaned in to kiss you.

her lips pressed against yours, her hand on your shoulder gripping on to you so tightly that you couldn't move away. she leaned back, pushing you against the bathroom sink. "shut up. you're being too loud. other people will hear us." she whispered in your ear as she leaned back in. her hands tightly gripped your hips, lifting you up to sit on the sink. "i'm sorry, sweet thing.. but can you blame me? you're such a pretty little doll." she whispered against your neck, causing chills to run up and down your spine as she leaned in to her lips against your skin again and again. "i-i thought.. you were against same sex relationships, peruere?" you said in between little breaths, gasping everytime she nibbled a little on your skin. you grasped on her shoulders, trying to ground yourself and not get too lost in the midst of her peppering kisses on your neck and collarbone.

"it was all a fluke. i didn't want to let them know that you had me wrapped around your pretty little finger."

she mumbled as she licked on your skin, just under your jaw before biting down, not too hard to actually hurt you but with just enough pressure to make you feel her teeth sink into you. she immediately covered your mouth, muffling your loud gasp. for a moment, you caught an embarrassed look on her face as she leaned back for a moment to catch her breath. "you're.. just too pretty. i like you, but we've never talked. so i always thought i didn't have a chance with you." she confessed, before kissing your cheek. her sudden switch made you see a more endearing side to her, and it just made you want to give in more and more to her.

"oh, but who cares.. you've already caught me. might as well make you mine."

she pulled away, wiping her lips. drool was dripping down her lips. she looked like a starved woman, hungry for you. the sight made you throb with need.

"if you want this, that is." she said as she then pulled away. panicked, you grabbed her wrist, pulling her in to press your lips against hers.

peruere was obviously surprised, but she immediately gave in and kissed back with equal, if not more, fervor. you were leaning back against the mirror, with her in the middle of your thighs as you both relished in the feeling of being pressed against each other. her heart was practically leaping in joy, seeing you want her just as much as she wanted you.

"f.. fuck, you're so pretty, so.."

she looked at you with mesmerized eyes, her hand trailing down from your hips to make it's way to go under your skirt and grip your thighs. for a moment, you forgot you were in public and had leaned in to chase for her lips once again, but she avoided it. confused and left needing for more, you looked at her with pleading eyes. she only chuckled, finding your eagerness so damn adorable.

"not here, sweet thing, we won't have any privacy. fix yourself up, let's head to the classroom. we can lock the door there."

as she separared from you to pick up the cleaning supplies. you couldn't help but pout, but you knew she had a point. so you hopped off the counter and fixed your uniform. you then went over to her, offering to help her with carrying the stuff, but she simply dismissed you with a straight face. "no, it's fine. i'll carry this for you."

you nodded, feeling your heart skip a beat. peruere was such a mystery to you, but it made you want to know more about her.

you both left the bathroom, trying to act as normal as possible- well, at least you were. peruere had a totally calm expression on her face, while you were a silent and flustered mess. as you both walked through the hallways, your homeroom teacher saw the both of you.

"oh! peruere, how nice of you. i'm so glad you volunteered to help. poor y/n here is always left alone to clean. i swear, those little brats deserve to be taught a lesson.."

she sighed, looking at you apologetically. "it's fine. i don't mind helping y/n out.. since she's helping me out too. if you may excuse us, teacher, we'll go ahead now.."

the teacher looked at you both with a sweet smile as she watched you both enter the classroom. "what diligent students, i swear, peruere and y/n are the only two good students i have.."

oh, but your teacher could never have been more wrong.

as soon as the door was shut and locked. peruere immediately pushed you down on a random desk, her hand wrapping around your waist to pull you in as close to her as possible as her lips returned to kissing your skin again, but she was more impatient and rougher this time. "peruere.. you're too.." you breathed out, she was more needy and hungry for you than earlier.

"shh, i'm going to help you.. but you have to help me out too.."

she grasped your hand, bringing it under her skirt. you were startled at her sudden boldness, but you could feel how wet and dripping she was through her underwear. "in fact, you caused this. so it's technically your responsibility.." she grumbled, before popping open the buttons of your shirt with haste. she stared down at your pretty chest, her hands pulling your bra up to let your pretty tits fall out. "p-peruere! this is.." you immediately covered your face, looking away as heat filled your body.

"hush, darling. the door is locked, but they can still hear us if they pass by.."

her lips immediately latched on to your tits, her tongue circling your now erect nipples slowly. with your hand covering your mouth to contain your moans, the other was on the back of her head, your fingers tangled in her hair as you held on to her tighter.

while her mouth was busy sucking your sweet tits, her hands forced your legs to spread even more open in front of her. you bit down on your hand, fighting back the urge to gasp and moan loudly at the sudden feeling of your clit being touched and rubbed by her fingers through your panties.

she pulled away from your tits with a pop, a bit of drool dripping down her chin once again as she grinned at you. "fuck- you're even more wet than me. you're quite literally dripping.."

as if to prove her point, she pulled your skirt down along with your underwear. the exposure to the cold air made your whole body shiver, but you felt even more embarassed to be out and exposed like this at school. "this is.. this is too much, peruere. what if someone sees us?" you asked, trying your hardest to resist the arousal pooling in your lower tummy, but you knew you couldn't fight it anymore.

"just keep your voice down, love. no one will come in.."

she also removed her skirt and underwear, completely leaving herself bare and naked like you. you couldn't help but stare, she looked so.. taunting. you wanted to just stuff your face in there and taste her. you gulped, and peruere noticed you staring at her. "you want to feel my pussy, don't you..?" she asked with a teasing voice. you threw all your known morals and dignity out the window, nodding desperately at her question. "please, peruere.. i can't take it anymore."

fuck. peruere wanted to tease you some more, but hearing you sound say please with that needy tone of yours had completely drived her over the edge.

she pulled you down from the desk, gently laying you down on the cold floor. it wasn't the best place to fuck in right now, but she needed you right here and right now. she carefully positioned herself on top of you, grabbing on to your leg for leverage.

"f-fuck, love.. you feel so good, so warm.."

she groaned as her clit made in contact with yours and no more than a minute, she had pressed herself against you and started moving her hips against you. "peruere, peruere.. it's so wet.." you moaned out, covering your mouth to muffle your moans again. you closed your eyes in pure ecstacy, the sensation of your pussy rubbing against hers and your clits just bumping into each other. it was far too good, you felt like you were losing your mind.

"oh shit, doll... i-i can feel you throb against me.."

both of you were now struggling to contain your noises, so she pulled you up and leaned in to kiss you as she grinded her pussy against yours. both of you had no shame left, not caring whether you were in school or not anymore as you both chased your highs.

"shit- shit, peruere.. i-i'm about to-"

you whined as you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breathe again. both of you were a panting mess, pressing against each other harder and harder. "let go for me, sweet thing. i-i'm about to cum as well.."

you bucked your hips against peruere, both of your movements were losing rhythm and were becoming erratic. the knot in your tummy was tightening, and without another second, everything turned white around you as you almost let out a strangled moan if peruere hadn't pressed her lips against yours.

she immediately wrapped her arms around you, catching you before you'd fall back to the floor and hurt yourself. as you felt yourself clench around nothing, you twitched and shivered in her arms, letting out fucked out whines against her neck. this was the first time you've felt such an intense orgasm where you've completely lost yourself to the pleasure, it almost made you cry. "shh, love. i got you.. i got you." she coaxed you, a bit caught off guard to how sensitive you are, but it was just another cute thing about you.

she then caught your lips in hers this time, but it was sweet and soft this time. it was such a different feeling from the earlier kisses you exchanged with her earlier.. but you liked it. you loved it.

as you finally calmed down in her arms, peruere pressed a kiss to your forehead and took off her blazer to wrap it around you. "go and rest for a little bit, love. i'll go clean us up and then i'll help you with cleaning up, okay?" her tone was more gentle now and it made your heart flutter once again just like earlier. "be rest assured, my love. i'll take good care of you.." she whispered as she pressed another kiss on your cheek, before getting up to grab some tissues from her bag to clean you up. from now on, you started to see peruere in a better light. maybe.. she wasn't so bad after all.

(little bonus hihi)

the next day, everyone was obviously stunned at the sight of you and peruere coming to school with your hands intertwined. ever since she had confessed to you, she refused to leave your side. of course, peruere is peruere. a top student with an apathetic expression on her face most of the time paired with a manner of speaking that may or may not have permanently scarred a few other students for life and to see her latching on to you, holding your hand and blatantly admitting that you were her lover when a few of the bolder students asked? they were baffled. a lot of students were too intimidated by her to say anything.. but you and her were a cute couple. i mean, it wasn't everyday that you got to see peruere smitten and blushing like she had a fever when you had suddenly kissed her on the cheek during lunch break when she handed you the bread you asked for.

[sl-ut]

sweet cliches

NSFW

pairing: college!abby anderson x fem!preppy!reader

description: just some spicy hcs about abby’s relationship with preppy!reader 

warnings: smut, cursing, probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes (i was really high when i wrote this), swearing, mentions of drinking and drug use 

date posted: 29/03/23

series masterlist

abby’s a service top, that goes without saying

*cough*MUNCH*cough*

early on in the relationship, things are pretty vanilla

she goes down on y/n, y/n goes down on her, done

as time passes, however, abby starts to realise how addicting y/n’s pussy is

she can literally spend HOURS going down on her girl

uses her brute strength to pull her back in as she tries to escape her touch, throwing y/n around into different positions before diving back in

she loves to eat it from behind or have her sit on her face, and she really loves to sixty-nine

she also likes to be standing while she facefucks y/n

there was absolutely nothing more that she loved than the sight of her strap sinking into y/n’s sopping cunt

the girl is strap happy and can dick someone down better than any man

she likes to do this from behind but her favourite is when she leans back and watches as y/n bounces eagerly on it

she likes to let y/n take charge while also reminding her who’s actually in control by lightly wrapping a hand around her throat 

the original strap is light blue, though once things get more serious, she decides to order a new one in y/n favourite colour; it’s a translucent baby pink with flecks of glitter within the silicone

it just didn’t feel right to her to continue using the old one on her special girl when she had been using it on others before they started dating–the new one was for y/n and y/n only

scissoring is touch and go with these two

most wlw would agree that when it’s done right, it’s really good, but it can feel very awkward and strange for a lot of the time

for y/n, she’s not someone to get off via scissoring. she likes how it feels, and genuinely loves the idea of the raw, primal aspect of not using fingers, tongues, or toys to fuck

instead, while it definitely feels good, she usually lays there and lets abby use her body to get off

and get off, abby does. abby personally really enjoys it, though she knows that it’s not y/n’s favourite so she doesn’t bring it up often, only when she really needs to get off

abby is a boobie lover

don’t get me wrong, she loves all of y/n’s body, but her mouth literally waters when she gets to paw and suck at her tits

likes holding them in a non-sexual way as well, just cupping them silently as she nods off to sleep

fucking after big games

y/n in her cheer uniform and abby in a pair of sweats that she changed into after the game

if they won, expect passionate and intimate sex, if they lost, expect rough and fast

when she’s not bouncing on the strap, y/n’s riding abby’s thick, muscular thighs

sometimes things can get a little silly

abby can be a bit awkward from time to time, despite the confidence that she practically oozes

she’ll spit out a random little comment that she had intended to sound sexy, and then stop her movements as they both begin to giggle at how strange it sounded

not really smut, but i think the general consensus is that abby wears boxers, but i’m more convinced that she prefers boybriefs to boxers and would actually rock thongs and g-strings (from experience, i know that it’s a lot more comfortable to wear these when playing sports/working out bc they don’t move around and won’t give bad wedgies)

she likes to watch y/n touch herself, but will instruct her on what to do

my girl doesn’t like to share, so any thought of inviting others into the bedroom is a definite no, but i feel like she might be open to letting someone watch?

it would have to be someone that she was certain had no genuine feelings for either of them

maybe someone at a party? they had snuck away for some alone time and some girl stumbled in, sat down, and watched as abby went to town

soft dom

doesn’t like to leave visible hickeys

she cares a lot about her public image, and prefers to keep her private life private

will definitely leave them all over y/n’s tits, thighs, and ass, but will avoid leaving them on visible areas like her neck and shoulders

likes to watch porn together <3

i feel like abby doesn’t have a particular type that she watches, just usually picks something random

but then i love the idea of y/n scolding her and spending like half an hour scrolling through the videos

“i like it when they tell a story”

abby thought this was really funny and adorable

aims to make y/n squirt

the first time it happened, it shocked the both of them

abby had her in a mating press, rubbing her clit and fucking into her with her glittery pink cock

y/n suddenly started to slap her chest and try to pull away, claiming that she was gonna pee

abby was no stranger to what this meant (i mean, who wouldn’t squirt from her) and just kept going, once again using her brute strength to keep her still and praising her as her juices began to splash out all over the both of them

while she might get kinky from time to time, she honestly just loves that kind of soft, domestic sex

it makes her feel so close to her partner

like when y/n slips into the shower with her and just slides down onto her knees, or hoisting y/n up onto the counter while they’re waiting for the coffee to finish brewing

after being together for a few years, she definitely developed a breeding kink

while y/n’s still in school, abby will use sex to motivate her to study

when she’s procrastinating on writing a paper (i’m definitely not self inserting here lol) she’ll offer to get her off for every five hundred words she writes

or she’ll be helping her study and start rubbing her clit, speeding up with every correct answer and slowing down with every wrong one

in contrast, y/n will use sex to distract abby when things are all becoming a bit too much

when she’s stressed over exams and won’t come to bed, y/n will sit on the desk in front of her in nothing more than one of abby’s t-shirts

when abby leans back and tries to scold her, y/n will simply part her legs and expose her leaking cunt to her

abby will try to resist, but will only last a few minutes before grasping her thighs and tugging her to the edge of the surface and going to work

after letting her do her thing, y/n will lure her into the bedroom and will go down on her to tire her out even more

abby can’t stop kissing y/n during sex

it’s always so erotic, y/n will be riding the strap and abby will tear her lips away from the jiggling tits in front of her to jam her tongue into her mouth

it would be soft, though, no clashing teeth or fighting for dominance (there’s no point in fighting for that against abby)

instead, it’s slow, gentle tongues brushing together, swallowing each other’s moans

abby loves fucking after a night out–whether its date night, one of her team dinners, or the pair of them had attended a family function. something about getting to strip away y/n’s pretty clothes and watching her makeup getting ruined from sweat, tears, and abby’s juices

sex on special occasions is both of their absolute favourite

depending on whose occasion it was, the other would do their best to make it more special than usual

after abby’s team won the championship game, y/n surprised her after the big party by wearing her jersey and a pair of lace, crotchless panties underneath

abby went feral for it, not even bothering to take a single thing off of her, instead just pushing the jersey up to release her breasts as she worked her up and down on her strap

when y/n made the dean’s list, abby treated her to an at-home spa experience, taking special care to work her open on her tongue and fingers so many times that she couldn’t remember anything aside from abby’s name

[flawless-peach]

That Girl Guide

this is in no way me trying to tell you how to live your life. I just thought this would be a fun way to help people explore different ideas and maybe give some inspiration if someone is feeling overwhelmed by the aesthetic. I great way to romanticize your life is to get inspired by a preferred aesthetic.

01. Hygeine

with hygeine it is important to remember just because society says something is necessary doesn't mean it is. This can be things like shaving and teeth whitening.

wash your face at least every night. this is not necessarily referring to a double cleanse with moisturizer, because those can take time to find one's that work and adding in several products at once makes it hard to identify what works and what doesn't. In this case I just mean go in with a gentle soap and wash off any grease and dirt off.

Floss your teeth. This is something that is incredibly important for the long-term health of your teeth. I personally find that I have to use plastic flossers because otherwise I won't floss. Do the best you can where you can.

Brush your teeth. This on is quite obvious, but one thing that is incredibly helpful when you're going through a depressive episode or something is to keep a toothbrush by your bed. In college, when I barely even went to classes, I kept an old plastic water bottle and a toothbrush by my bed, so I would at least brush my teeth 2 a day since I wasn't leaving my bed

Perfume and deodorant regular application of these really elevates your appearance. I personally love syncing these scents. My boyfriend recently bought a nice cologne that goes perfectly with his deodorant, so in the morning the scents aren't trying to compete as much.

02. Hair

this is hard to provide tips on because different hair types need different things so in this case i will just provide some styling tips

Know your hair type. For people who have straight hair, having to find your hair type never occurred to you, at least it didn't for me until I had to help someone learn to take care of their curly hair. But know your porosity and things makes taking care of your hair much much easier.

Split ends only lead to more damage it's better to go ahead and get it trimmed. I am sorry to say this, but cutting your hair at home really is not the move, it is better to just go into your local Great Cuts, or whatever, and just get the $10.00/$15.00 trim. If you absolutely can not get that cut your hair with sharp scissors, best if they are for cutting hair and having someone help you make it even.

A trade mark look of That Girl / Clean girl aesthetics is simple is more so hair styles that have minimal accessories is popular along with slick back looks as they make the hair look well maintained.

Slick back styles are great, especially in a busy week where you haven't had a chance to wash your hair yet. This is very versatile you could pull your hair back into a bun or put it in a ponytail, etc. if you have shorter hair you can slick your part and pull it in to pig tails or leave it pinned behind your ears.

if you have shorter hair styles like the 90s curtain bangs (leaning into the Old Money looks), pairs great with the elegant simple style associated with this aesthetic.

If you want to dress it down and look more casual claw clips and things like that is a great way to keep your hair out of the way while still looking like you put effort into hair even if it was minimal

This is just a side note, mostly for Americans who maybe feel really disconnected from their culture/ancestors look into the way they would style their hair. Theirs will be the most like yours, so they know things you may not, trust your ancestors ^^

03. Makeup

Makeup is in no way a necessity for the It Girl look, but some people like to wear it so I wanted to include it for those people

Look at yourself objectively, see what features you want to HIGHLIGHT, by highlighting your features, it will naturally minimize the ones you want to hide. By doing this, I was able to accept those features a lot more than when I was trying to hide them. I even learned to embrace them and even start catering to those features.

I highly suggest looking at Dear Peachie on Youtube for learning the basics. I found them to be incredibly helpful. They include other things besides makeup but I have only watched their makeup videos so far. It's a great place for beginning to understand the makeup styles that look best on you

In this aesthetic minimal makeup, or "No makeup," makeup is incredibly popular. I don't use foundation most days and instead rely on my blush, eyeliner, and my concealer on the days I wear makeup.

04. Skincare / Bodycare

I've decided to combine these even though a lot won't overlap, but some will.

Exfoliating is great for your skin it unclog pores and helps your largest organ keep you healthy, however exfoliating can also be really harsh I suggestion doing this only once a weak with a natural exfoliation if you have sensitive skin ,i have found that works best for me and my mom, however everyone skin is different so you will need to play around with that. Your face skin is more sensitive, but your body also deserves to be taken care of. Just because it can tolerate it doesn't mean it needs to.

Shaving is entirely optional and not something anyone is required to do. But if that is something you like, always prep your skin, especially though things like exfoliating gloves or something like that to help get ride of the dead skin to get a clean shave to miminimize the chance of ingrown hair and "strawberry legs"

05. Clothes

this is mostly just a list of staples that can be useful for most aesthetics but are incredibly useful for That Girl aesthetics.

plain tees, i suggest at least a black and white. some people may benefit from other colors like brown or beige, but it depends on your lifestyle and preference ^^

plain black slacks. I like mine to be on the softer side but I like the thick pressed ones for more professional interviews and things.

jackets are incredibly useful when dressing up and dressing down depending on the material and style of the jackets. I have an old jacket from my great-grandfather that is worn briwn leather that works well for dressing down business casual to more casual attire. But adding a blazer over a more casual outfit can dress it up.

Jeans are complicated because i am from the south in a very blue collar family, so I think everything goes with jeans. For jeans that fit the That Girl aesthetic, I would suggest looking at jeans with as close to no holes as comfortable. Dear Peachie also has a video over identifying your body type.

[harlstark]

What do you think Harley and his little sister's dynamic is?

Do you have any hc on his younger sister? (Sorry, not really about Harley, I just love abbie so much (the name I gave her)

*vibrates at a frequency unknown to man*

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THE GIRL EVER. that is my apple bear sugar pie honey blossom baby girl.

real talk though to answer: i think harley is definitely sort of a second if not primary parental figure to her. i think there’s no one he’d rather die or kill for than her. she loves him to death too, even though she is quite often a little shit and doubly as witty and sarcastic as he is. she might (probably) holds a deal of resentment over him leaving to new york—in works which he does, but also knows it’s what’s best for him. she’s a big sardonic goofball full of cynicism just like him and sometimes he probably hates that he influenced her in that way. she’s rowdy, unpredictable, loud and talkative, but never received the same criticisms harley did growing up—at least not most of them anyways. she knows, deep down, before harley even says anything, that her brother is different, but that never stopped her from loving him or made her love him any less; if anything, it made her twice as protective towards him with her nimble stature and noodle arms that probably don’t do much damage. their father left either when she was an infant or not even born yet so she doesn’t share that same trauma, but she’s seen the way it affects harley so she hates the man all the same. she’s got a gap between her two front teeth, freckles all over her face, a blonde bob and bangs she chopped herself that harley had to help fix in the bathroom with a pair of kitchen scissors, and she was raised running on dirt with her bare feet touching the ground, just as wild as the wolves. she’s blunt, not shy, observant as all hell, and has an affinity for music, animals, games of checkers dominos, and soap operas. and in her teen years comes to realize that, like harley, she’s a bit different too. she has a bit of a rebellious phase in high school, maybe when harley is in the city, and it throws her through a bit of a spiral. she messes with guys and girls and has her fun, before mellowing out one summer thanks to a summer-fling with a nomad girl at their local drive in theatre who stays with her family for a visit in their van. when she graduates, she attempts college but decides it’s not for her, at least not yet, so she takes a trip around europe to find herself. she smokes cigarettes and drinks wine but quits both when she comes back more rejuvenated in her life. on her trip though, she finds love, and that love comes in the shape of a young muslim woman with the most beautiful brown eyes she’s ever seen, and the two settle down in an apartment in brooklyn (because she was always destined to follow in her brothers footsteps a bit, wasn’t she?) and one day get married. they have two kids—via IVF or surrogacy, and take trips to rosehill occasionally so the kids know the life of the country that raised her. she gets a steady job, maybe at SI but that might not be for her, or in journalism, photography, or music—something artsy. in her thirties or forties, when the kids are not yet teenagers, her and her wife make the big move back to the countryside, somewhere more freeing than rosehill and all the more serene.

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.”

[hernakedmuse]

Immortal Aphrodite

Part I

Synopsis: a pansexual non binary therapist in New York is finally in a good place in their life, when they gets a client that might threaten all of that.

Dedicated to a very good friend if mine who I absolutely love.

Disclaimer: This story will be explicit as hell. This is a Trans!Female Timothée Chalamet x Reader love story.

____________________________________________

Salem's POV

It took me a long time to get where I am today. I'm not talking about getting my bachelors in Psychology at the University of Arkansas, and then my masters in counseling at Hunter College.  Those are just degrees and hours of studying and no social life for someone who doesn't have one anyway.

It took me a long time to get to where I am, struggling to discover that I'm not defined by one gender or the other, that I'm not attracted to people based off of what gender THEY identify as, working through a drinking problem that stemmed from mental and emotional abuse from my family even when they were a distance away. And then coming out to them so I could finally live my life, live it healthy and honest. Coming out to my family almost sent me back to the bottle, I had to call my sponsor or I didn't know if I'd make it.

It's safe to say they are no longer in my life, which makes me sad sometimes but not sad enough to return to that life. It took too long getting here to where I am, I remember when I finally legally changed my name, Salem Eden Coslett.  With that name I worked as an elementary school counselor while getting my masters degree, with that name I graduated with that very master's degree and my addiction program AND rented my Brooklyn brownstone apartment, and that is the name that's on the door of my office. An Office I made a safe place for not just the queer community but people of all communities. 

I still see a therapist of course, problems don't go away just because you're doing good and Dr. Valentine has been a big help. 

My life has been going so well, I have succulents and an Ivy I nurture, two Maine coons called Aragorn and Elrond that I adore. I'm in a book club and I found a really nice church that's open and accepting with a lesbian reverend. 

So tell me why I'm ready to jeopardize that and break the hippocratic oath? Tell me why I forgot how to breathe when my first time patient walks in looking as good as she smelled, strutting in all tall and elegant and elvish with long, spider legs and red lips? She wore stylishly vintage jeans from the early 90s that stayed up in her petite waist with the help of a Gucci belt, a black turtleneck that's tightness showed off her lean built, red two and half inch block heels that I saw in the window of Nordstroms, a single Cartier bracelet and small gold hoop earrings. Her rich chocolate curls were cut voguishly in the wolf style, and nothing really changed her pretty and intense features except for red lipstick and bb cream.

Nails as red as her lips and shoes were paired with many vintage rings, on long, dexterous fingers that lived on large hands. Hands I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from.

She has pretty diamond shaped head and very sharp features, gorgeously scissor sharp cheekbones and an aquiline nose that made her look beautifully noble, seductively hooded Hazel eyes with thick eyebrows that resided above them. Her lips are small but full and the Rouge on them kept making my eyes return to them.  Her beauty is svelte and Eastern European, she's the absolute New Yorker and I couldn't breathe. I don't remember inviting her to sit on my rattan wood daybed with a salmon-colored, velvet cushion. She moved my plethora of colorful cushions and pillows aside to sit and sink into the seatery. She looks so pretty there and I just imagined doing such depraved things to her and it made me feel horrible. I did invite her to sit and I offered her tea, but I'm in a trance so I just don't remember. 

I need to get myself together, I must look like an idiot just gawking at her. "The tea is really good." She said, her voice is raspy and deep but very soft. She looked me in the eye briefly before studying my appearance, I felt my heart race as I pushed up my glasses.

"Oh thank you it's um butterfly pea flower tea." I tapped my purple gel pen against my clipboard. 

"It's  sweet and flowery but earthy, it's so good."

It was cute how she described the tea, I smiled. "I'll make sure to make more for you next time, I like interesting tea flavors, like matcha." With patients I tend to let them take the reins of the conversation, make them feel comfortable and give them the feeling that they're in control of the direction of the conversation.

Hali Chalamet wasn't here to talk about mtea collection. 

"I usually prefer coffee but this tea…what sweetener was that?" Her knee was jiggling so fast, she was tapping her foot wildly, a telltale sign she's nervous.

I shifted in my seat as I watched her, she blushed under my gaze and it made my mind wander and I bit my bottom lip. "Agave syrup, it's a healthy alternative. "

"Like Tequila agave?"

I smirked. "Sort of."

"Trying to get me drunk, Salem?"

I had strict instructions for my patients to address me by my first name, the gender definity of Mr., Mrs., and Ms. Made me uncomfortable and me getting rid of a title made it easier for my patients to talk to me.

So when she said my name with a suggestion I should have been fine, especially when I've had patients actually hit on me before, there's a whole transference situation that can happen between therapist and patient.  Not with Hali, she had me completely effected.

"I see that you're a drama professor at Tisch school of Arts. You're so young to be one." I said it as a compliment with a smile.

I saw her perk up that, she was obviously very proud of that title and position.  "Yes, I did 4 years at NYU and got a B.A. in drama, and then a PhD in fine arts. I used to…" She cleared her throat and hugged her arms around herself, something must have been triggered.  "I was an actor on Broadway. ".

I rose my brows completely impressed, she does look familiar,  but I can't remember from where, I didn't see theatre that often despite my love for watching it. 

A frown appeared on her pretty mouth, I really shouldn't say that in my head. She's going through something horrible trip down memory lane and here I am admiring her.

"I was…it was when I was…Timothée…"

Sometimes saying your dead name can be triggering. I set aside my clipboard and approached her slowly. I stopped before her and crouched down to the ground, making sure my long skirt covered me. I looked up at Hali, it was a good position to all our her to know that I wasn't above her in anyway.

"Did you leave Broadway because of that? You don't have to talk about it today."

She looked down into my eyes, there was such a tenderness in them. "Thank you." She said softly, her eyes traveled down to my mouth and briefly to my covered chest. Did I imagine that?

"I need to go." She said in a quiet, gossamer of a tone.

I nodded, this happens a lot. Sometimes the first session doesn't go well, but even when I watched her walk out of the office, I know she opened up to me more than she knows.

After she left I started typing up notes and organizing the for her file. Once printed I put stickers on them that I associated with her, which I do with all my patients.

I had a date tonight with this perfectly nice guy, he's a veterinarian and open minded, he loves Sylvia Plath and listens to Harry Styles, favorite show is The Office and has only been in committed relationships.  He's a male feminist and he's very tall, 6'3, has green eyes, cute glasses, and curly dark hair. His name is Dr. Josh Rosenstein and he smells lovely, like dove soap and gentle cologne, and we met up at L'Wren on Brooklyn's fifth Avenue for drinks. It was a little bit of a struggle but as he ordered his glass of Beaujolais, and I ordered my mocktail of ginger beer and grapefruit juice, we talked about our favorite office episodes and our jobs. All I could think about while he was being perfectly polite was Hali staring at my lips.

Then we met each other at 1 or 8, this minimalist Japanese restaurant on Dekalb Avenue. It wasn't the best Japanese food I ever had, all show no substance. But Dr. Josh was nice, very nice. I felt like an awful human being thinking about Hali's rings on her hand.

And when I invited the good doctor inside and we fucked with me on top, I thought of her cock, it looked so big through her Jeans. I felt miserably guilty and horny, I needed to get my patient out of my head but all I could think about was how Josh wasn't Hali.

And after he left I was counting down to when I would see her again. 

Next Tuesday when I did, we just spoke about her favorite musicals and her favorite plays. She actually loves Rocky Horror Picture Show and I told her I have never seen it, my exposure to pop culture due to my religious upbringing was limited. 

Well Miss Hali was appalled and the next morning, I had found a ticket to an off Broadway production of it at the Manhattan theater in my mailbox. I shook my head with a smile, and yes I was totally going.

Technically I'm not doing anything wrong right? They're just a simple gift from a grateful patient, happens all the time. And I had no idea if she would even be there.

But on the off chance that she was…

I didn't wear a suit like with Josh, tonight I feel more femme than masculine. I did my makeup, painted lips a dark red, used a matte foundation and smokey eyes, black spiderweb fishnet stockings wrapped around my legs and went well with my purple, velvet button down dress. The sleeves are short and so is the hem, it showed a heavy amount of cleavage which was easy to do with my size.

I zipped up black, mid calf, wedge heel boots and sprayed on my Good fortune perfume.  I kept messing with my hair, I hoped I looked good enough, I hope I smel good enough, I just hope I'm enough. 

As I grabbed my purse and set up the place nice for my cat, I chastised myself. "Salem you're insane, she probably won't even be there."

With that I headed out and hailed a cab to the Manhattan theater. I arrived early so I could find my seat, that's when I saw her. Apparently she can get hotter.

That dress hardly left anything to the imagination, black and completely sheer, sides cut out and showing off long, smooth legs that end in designer black boots. The eyeliner was heavy and it was so sexy. Should I go over there? Or pretend not to see her? Oh my God.

"Are you here alone?" 

A pretty redhead in a babydoll dress appeared before me. She licked her lips and made it obvious she was checking me out with seductive brown eyes.

"Yes."

"Oh good." She smiled. "I'm Miranda, what's your name?"

"Salem." I wasn't interested and I should be, she's so pretty and smells good, but my eyes slid over to where Hali was– to find no Hali.

"Salem, there you are!"

A big smile graced my lips hearing the familiar voice that might as well be the chorus of angels singing. When did she get so close to me? And God she smells WAY better than Miranda. My eyes fell to her rosy nipples that were  visible through that sheer number.

"I-uh here I am!" 

She wrapped her lanky arms around my shapely waist. I couldn't breathe oh God, feeling her body against mine made me feel high. I had to mentally yet at myself to NOT Bury my face in her neck with a scent that could only be described as intoxicating. 

Miranda looked annoyed and just walked away, sadly Hali let go. "Why did you do that?" I asked her.

"Do what?" She asked simply before slowly eyeing me. "You look really cute outside of your work clothes, although you look cute on those too."

"Hali, remember-" I started to warn.

"I know, I know, hippocratic oath or whatever. " 

I folded my arms.

"I wish you wore your glasses."

I looked up at her perplexed and she just smirked then took my hand. "Come on, I'll take you to our seats."

"Hali, I don't know if this is appropriate…"

"It's just a show, and maybe some eats at Hill country barbecue market on West 26th street, afterwards of course not during. After all, you've never seen this before, and I'd hate for you to miss it."

"No, Hali. Please, listen, there is absolutely no way–" the overture of the music began and Hali shushed me. "It's beginning. "

I glared. "Don't ever shush me again, understand?"

Her Adam's apple bobbed and her hooded eyes fogged with something akin to lust.  

Was it me or did my patient just get turned on by me telling her what to do?

I'm fucked.

@sufferingstarlight @meetmyothersouls

[churchofthpl]

an elaboration of sorts

(this one doesn't rhyme;

most of them don't, but

the one before the last one did

and that's the one that this one

is a sort of extension of)

i see them in everything,

and i could talk about it for hours.

my list of examples is endless.

some of them have cool stories;

some of them don't, but

they still have a place of utmost importance

in my heart.

here are ten of them.

one; she is that feeling i got when i listened to the safety dance by men without hats for the first time. i was twelve years old. i'd been a fan of the ramones for a while, i was getting into other bands in their scene, i knew punk rock, i knew what it was like to be heard by music. the safety dance was different; it was like my future self was being heard. a future self in which i was happier and i had more freedom than i did aged twelve and i felt free to love and be loved back.

two; he is the mural of a swan on the side of my dream college. when i went for an initial visit - the same visit that caused me to apply before even leaving the building - i arrived twenty minutes early to my show-around, so i was stood outside. in front of the main entrance is a huge painting of a swan. i remember sitting on one of the benches opposite it and just looking over every detail and admiring the effort that went into it. i am working my ass off to get my grades up so i can go to that college.

three; they are the first pair of earrings i ever got. i got my earlobes pierced at claire's when i was six years old. they were tiny studs with aqua-coloured gems on them. they lasted a little over a year before seven-year-old cecile took them out. they were really pretty. i still have them somewhere.

four; she is the rocky horror picture show poster on my wall. it's "camp", thank you very much, though my cat seems to be afraid of it.

five; he is the folder of drawings i did as a child. the last time i saw my dad, i was twelve years old, and the last gift he ever gave me was a folder of every piece of art i did as a child that he kept. my best friend at the time joked that i should burn them. i thought about it, very briefly - i kept them. i kept them until i moved out of the apartment. they got lost in the moving, as did a lot of things, because my apartment was cleared out entirely only a couple of weeks after my mom's passing, so there were a lot of things i wasn't in the headspace to remember to take. i never got around looked through the folder.

six; they are the storm that england got a couple of weeks ago. there were tornado warnings in towns only a couple of cities over from me, and though i didn't say anything because it felt silly, i was terrified. the winds were so loud i could hardly hear myself breathe, and the rain was flooding my garden. i stood in my porch and recorded it, deciding that joking about it would calm my nerves a little. (they were there when i sent these recordings to a group chat.)

seven; she is the pair of scissors that were used when i got my first masculine haircut. i was at a point where i didn't know if i was a transgender boy or a butch. it's funny to look back on, because between then and now, i have gone through 'phases' and experiments with my gender and presentation, i have identified as multiple things, and i am back here, now, yet again not sure if i am ftm or a butch.

eight; he is the first muji pen i ever bought. it was a lifechanger. i need to go out and buy some more soon - i wonder if ryman is open on a sunday? they're my favourite brand of pen to use. almost all of my poems that are in notebooks have been in muji pens. all of my handwritten essays have been in muji pens that had the labels ripped off by the invigilators (you know, just in case i printed the answers in japanese onto a pen label and stuck it on the pen).

nine; they are the copy of gloom that i stole from my old group counsellor's office back when i first got transferred to my current school. i only did it because i thought the box looked cool and i was a bit of a kleptomaniac. he never asked for it back. since then, i've taught myself to play, and gloom is my favourite card game of all time.

ten; she is - above all else, i suppose - the first thing i smile about every morning. no, seriously. that's not even me being sappy. i check my phone first thing every morning, and she's always the first notification i read.

[purplesurveys]

1603 - happy new year’s eve eve!

Have you done any of the same things as me? [2022 Edition] by joybucket

experienced something amazing and miraculous? 🤩 I’ve experienced amazing things like getting a new dog, seeing the sea, having profound conversations with a few Grab drivers, etc; but nothing miraculous mainly because I don’t believe in miracles.

switched to a new primary care doctor? I don’t even have a main doctor.

tried a new medication? 💊 Yes. When I sprained my ankle, the Good Samaritans who helped nurse my foot also gave me these capsules to take every 8 or so hours.

felt afraid to leave the house? Yes - that time in July when there was a shooting in Ateneo. My family was out that day and that scared me more, but I was staying at home at the time and thought under no circumstances was I going out that week. Kaye actually invited me to dinner NEAR THE DAMN PLACE and I had to tell her girl did you not know people literally got killed 8 hours ago? lol.

had a new neighbor move in? I can finally answer this question with a yes, lol. We didn’t have any nearby neighbors for at least like a decade, but in 2022 there was a family who moved in across us; the abandoned house beside ours also finally got renovated and another family is I believe currently renting the place.

met a new neighbor? I haven’t. We usually keep to ourselves but for the family who moved in across us this month I am thinking of sending them a little something.

read the entire Bible? 📖 I haven’t touched that book since high school.

had a smoothie that tasted really, really good? 🍹 I don’t like smoothies. I did try this great mocha nut latte earlier this month and discovered how fantastic chocnut works with coffee.

had some significant health issues? Other than my sprained ankle, my carpal tunnel syndrome acted up quite a bit this year.

made a lot of surveys? I’ve never made a survey.

taken a lot of surveys? Like any other year.

gave yourself a significant haircut? 💇‍♀️ I always have my hair professionally worked on, whether it’s a trim or dye job. I do not trust myself with a pair of scissors for anything haha.

discovered a new YouTube channel you really liked? Earlier this year I found Institute of Human Anatomy, who I bingewatched for a while. Bea also got me into Korean Englishman/Jolly. She’s been trying to get me on the train since 2021 actually, but it was only this year when my attention was finally caught.

discovered a new favorite book? 📖 I didn’t have any major book discoveries this year.

re-read a book you really liked? 📖 I re-discovered Midnight Sun when I found it in our storage (after thinking my mom threw it out), but I didn’t re-read it per se as I never finished it in the past.

debated reaching out to someone and asking for prayer, but didn't? 🙏 I do not ask for prayers, at least actively. People tell me they pray for me which is always appreciated as I know it must mean a lot for them to do so; but it’s not something I would take the initiative to ask for.

started taking a new birth control pill? I have never taken birth control.

experienced anaphylaxis? Nope.

...and then had to be on Prednisone for three months because of it? Nope, I don’t have regular medications.

gained weight from a medication? I didn’t.

...and then lost some of it once you were off the medication, but not all of it? I didn’t.

discovered you had steroid-induced diabetes? Nope.

daydreamed a lot? 💭 Probably, yeah.

had overdue library books? 📚 I haven’t been to a library, much less borrow a book, since pre-pandemic college, so no. I’ve always been terrible at returning books though and I always get that Look of Shock from librarians when they see the total of my overdue charges LOL so you were at least right about that.

worn a mask? 😷 Just about every time I’ve gone out! The government has lifted mask-wearing for both indoor and outdoor areas so technically we have the choice/freedom to go maskless now, but people in Manila are rather paranoid and prefer wearing a mask still – I do, too. Provinces though, I’ve observed that they are much less cautious and people hardly wear masks there anymore.

worn a mask when cleaning, because you're allergic to dust mites? 😷 I’m not allergic so I don’t wear a mask. I sneeze a lot though, lol.

went days without washing your hair? A few times, yes.

felt overjoyed one day and then depressed the next? It happens.

thought about how much you missed going to church? ⛪️ All I think about is when I can finally stop going, so no.

thought about how much you missed painting? 🖼 Yeah, a little bit! I had some paint-by-numbers stacked in my closet for a while - they were 2021 Christmas gifts that I never got around to sending out lol, and I was always getting that voice in my head asking what the fuck I wanted to do with them.

....and thought about how you'd like to start painting again? 🎨 Sure. The resolution to that ^ is that I finally pulled one of the packs out and started painting. Just this December, actually. I plan on continuing the template for the rest of the company break/shutdown.

found out that someone got hit by a car and died while crossing a street that you cross all the time? I unfortunately saw the aftermath of a very graphic motorcycle crash on Christmas Day, and that dude I saw with his face down was most likely a casualty. I don’t pass the area all the time, just whenever we head south; but it was still spooky nonetheless. More sad than spooky though, considering a family’s gonna have to find out they lost someone on Christmas Day.

enjoyed watching the snow fall? ❄️ I have never seen snow.

wished you had a car? 🚘 I already do.

talked to your mom on the phone? 📱 A few times, but they were always 15-second calls where either of us just ask the other something urgent.

talked to your mom online? 💬 Yeah, whenever she’s at work we communicate through Messenger.

realized none of your bras fit you anymore? Nope, they all still work just fine.

received a package in the mail? 📦 I mean this year was no different and I still bought stacks upon stacks of K-pop merch lol, so yes I did receive packages a handful of times.

started watching Youtube Shorts regularly? Oh I irrationally hate those. Trying so hard to be IG reels/TikTok lol when YouTube’s strong suit has always been longer videos.

practiced self-hypnosis? 😵 No, I don’t believe in hypnosis.

discovered a new food you really liked? Not food exactly but my mom got this tub of local vinegar called pinakurat that is SO good; works with any Filipino breakfast food. I ask for it all the time now. 

discovered your bike had a flat tire? 🚴 Not my bike but our car! Happened on our way back to Manila from Zambales. We were a mere hundred meters away from the expressway (where my dad would’ve gone 90-100 kph) when we heard a loud pop. The place we got stuck at (Subic) is notably a safer city than other provinces so it was such a welcome surprise seeing Good Samaritans all over the damn road momentarily stop by and offer help – even more amazing was that the vice mayor of the city happened to drive by at the time and immediately stopped where we were to give tips about what we should do, where to go, who to talk to, etc. In the end, my dad was also able to get a lift from another Good Samaritan to the nearest vulcanizing shop to get the whole thing settled. 

Touching show of humanity, but at the same time also gave me some sort of existential crisis because fuck knows what would have happened had we reached the freeway and had the tire pop there instead.

made a new playlist of songs you really liked? 🎶 My sister and I made a few Blended playlists on Spotify but that’s about it.

got rid of a ton of old clothes? 👚 Not yet at least. But I’m planning on gathering clothes I know longer use and giving them to Reena to sell, all profit hers. Poor girl got scammed 20k recently and I just want to help.

ran/walked a Christmas-themed race? 🏃‍♀️ You will never find me in a race/fun run/marathon haha.

watched your city's Christmas parade? We don’t have one.

enjoyed eating salads? 🥗 Just tuna sashimi salads.

enjoyed eating chocolate pie? I’ve never had chocolate pie.

celebrated Thanksgiving alone? I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.

celebrated your birthday alone? I wasn’t alone. I was with my family on the day of; that same weekend my friends and I set off to Zambales for a quick beach trip.

didn't really have a good birthday? No, I had a fantastic one this year.

almost died multiple times? Apart from the time I had a bad fall in the bathroom and could have cracked my skull if not for the instinct of tucking my head, no.

enjoyed reading the Bible? 📖 I never enjoyed reading it and have no plans of touching one again.

danced around your living room? 💃 Sure, a few times.

written in cursive? ✍️ Yeah I practiced every now and then so that my penmanship doesn’t get rusty.

written in a journal? 📓 I have this account. I don’t write in journals because my mom is likely to snoop around.

written in a one-line-a-day journal? 📔 No, I don’t really do that when I have whole-ass surveys to fill out haha.

accidentally dropped a dish and broke it? Not a plate. But just this month my dad and I were unloading groceries when I dropped a tub of mayonnaise LOL. Luckily enough my dad got the one with plastic packaging that day, so the only thing that got damaged was the seal. Had we gotten the variant with glass packaging I would have gotten a mouthful.

went for a walk through the cemetery on Halloween? We went to a columbarium on All Souls’ Day (pretty close to Halloween, so I’ll count it) to visit my grandpa.

not brought your camera with you somewhere, and then wished you had? 📸 Not necessarily but I’ve had my phone die on me when I was at the beach wanting to take photos of the sunset.

discovered a new really good book? Nope.

read a book with a character named Simone in it? I did not.

had a doctor get irritated with you? Nah. I went to a couple dentists this year and they couldn’t have been nicer.

had a doctor not believe you about something? Nope.

broke out in acne all over your face? I had a few pimples show up here and there. I wouldn’t call it a breakout though.

found out one of your friends had COVID? 🦠 Yeah. People are still getting Covid all over the place but it’s no longer as bad or feared about as it used to be. “She got Covid” is just about as scary as “She has a fever” now.

wondered if you had COVID? 🦠 Every time I come home from being in an overcrowded place. Never got it though.

played Mahjong on your phone? 🀄️ I don’t even know how that works, so no.

used a lot of emojis? 🦄 🤪 💃 I use emojis frequently, but always the same ones. I have little use for the majority of them.

wore a cheetah-print mask? Nope.

worshiped God? 💃 Nooooooooooooope.

uploaded some new photos to Facebook? Yes, when Kimi passed I uploaded photos of me and him, photos of his urn, and Cooper and Agi standing beside the urn. I also always uploaded post-concert photos at the end of all of BTS’ online shows this year.

sorted through some old photos on your computer? Yeah, a few times.

wondered why your fridge was making funny noises? It didn’t.

gone for lovely and enchanting walks in the fall? 🍁 We don’t have fall.

wore the same outfit for days? Like, without washing? Eugh, hahaha. No. I do repeat outfits but I make sure it’s been like a month since I last wore a particular top-bottom pairing.

worn slipper socks? I didn’t this year.

gone out to eat with your parents? I took them out for dinner, just the two of them, earlier this year; but for the most part they prefer me to take the whole family out i.e. including my siblings, if I was going to give a treat.

enjoyed looking at your friends' baby pictures on Facebook? None of them have kids.

wondered what one of your friends was going to name her baby? We talk about it all the time.

wished someone would invite you to church, but no one did? Not applicable.

took more medication than you were supposed to when you were in severe pain? Not necessarily but I did take some desperate measures when I was dealing with wisdom tooth pain, pre-extraction. I strapped a cold compress to my face and also rubbed Katinko hoping it would feel numb.

wished autocorrect didn't make so many annoying errors? Well, not really. I just turned it off because autocorrect is an utter bitch when I’m typing in Filipino.

wished your cramps would go away? Don’t we always wish they would, when they do come?

enjoyed having a conversation with a random stranger while waiting in line for something? Not while waiting in line, but whenever I take a Grab on the way to a destination. I always make it a point to make conversation with my drivers because 1) everyone else probably wants a silent ride and I can’t imagine how lonely the drivers feel driving strangers all day, and 2) you wouldn’t believe the amazing conversations that can sometimes come out of those moments.

wished you could see your cousins more? Yeah, especially cousins on my dad’s side. 

thought about how much you used to love church? No.

had a certain traumatic incident keep coming back to haunt you? Not so much, no.

debated trying to get to know your neighbors more? Sure.

not eaten anything sweet on your birthday? This is true! I don’t really like cake, so I never planned on getting one made.

....for the first time ever, since you normally eat cake on your birthday? Nah, I’ve had a few birthdays with no cake.

eaten a lot of mango popsicles? I’ve never even had one.

[eykismyfav]

I saw in the Matt x reader tag you’re open to writing some dad Matt? 😌😌😌 pretty please do!

Requested: Yes! by Anon and @jessicajones616

Genre: Fluff 

Warnings: Swearing , Show level violence maybe

Pairing: Dad!Matt Murdock x Daughter!Reader

Characters: Matt Murdock, Karen, Foggy

Authors note: Just some fluffy cuteness. Reader is around 3 or 4 and not in preschool yet.

Daredevil Masterlist

Matt Murdock did not have a great father figure growing up but when he held you in his arms for the first time he promised himself that he would do his best to be there for you whenever you needed him.

You were a product of one of his college girlfriend getting pregnant. 

Your mother wanted no part in raising you saying she needed to put herself and her career first but agreed to continue the pregnancy after mat agreed to raising you on his own. 

Matt was upset by this but decided being a single parent would be worth being able to “see” you growing up.

Matt was clueless at first but the guy was trying his best... Foggy tried really hard to be helpful as well.

He was worse than your father most of the time.

When you were really little the only way you could sleep is if your father held you to his chest.

Even now if you had a bad dream the Matt would simply move over on his bed so you could slip in and nuzzle into his warm chest wrapping his arms around you and carding his fingers through your hair. 

Most days you spend with your father, Foggy and Karen in the law office playing with your toys on the floor.

Today you woke up and chose violence

You were currently running around the office being chased after by Karen and Foggy -- your dad was out getting lunch -- with scissors in your hand (neither of the two people chasing you know how or where you got the scissors from the didn’t even know the office had scissors.)

“Y/N please it’s not save just give us the scissors please.” Foggy pretty much begged at this point (this had been going on, for a good 15 minutes at this point.) You just giggled and kept running.

Suddenly you are lifted into the air and the scissors are removed from your hands. Looking up at who had caught you you see your father with a slight smirk on his face.

“Are you trying to give Foggy a heart attack?” He ask.

You respond by giggling and nuzzling your head into his neck shaking your head slightly. 

After running around the exhaustion seems to hit you as you begin to doze of in you fathers arms. 

“Looks like someone is ready for a nap.” Matt mumbles pressing a light kiss to your temple laying you down on a nearby couch. 

“Seriously scissors? Are you trying to let my kid get themselves killed in the office?” Matt asked Foggy and Karen looking disappointed at them. 

“Sorry Matt.” Both responded in unison.

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[tteokdoroki]

countdown | k.bakugou + e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou, eijirou kirishima  x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with the new year finally approching, your boyfriends figure out the perfect way to start the countdown.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ), oral sex ( female recieving ), fingering, choking, dumbification, degredation, double penetration, daddy!kink, master!kink, creampie, cumplay. guys it’s a lot idk what to tell you brrrrr. 

♡ author’s note(s):  um this is like 8 days late but happy new years y’all, first fic of 2021 and it is a Wild one !! this kinda goes with along with my christmas deku fic, you don’t have to read it but it gives some context!! thank for all your love and support, stay safe babies <33

♡ masterlist | requests

“don’t look so nervous, shitty girl.”

your gaze flicks up  and to the left of the rim of your tainted red solo cup, a pretty mauve stain coating the outer edge.  you can see bakugou moving in your peripheral vision, slender body resting against the counter in the kitchen you’ve hidden yourself away in— outside a new years party bustles away, so full of life that you’ve struggled to become a part of.  it was supposed to be a small gathering, a few of your boyfriends’ mates were getting together to see off the awful year after finals and tears and mishaps.

you were excited, you’d spent some time with the group before and were stoked to get to know them a bit better— but the idea had quickly been scrapped when kirishima’s roommate turned the tiny event into a full blown goodbye bash. so now your social anxiety was through the roof and you could hardly think about enjoying yourself.

downing the rest of your... well whatever the hell it is...you shift to face the blonde with a slight scowl.  “i’m not nervous, katsuki.” you half growl in an attempt to keep the explosive blonde away, but crimson eyes with mischievously sparkling irises only roll once, your lover can read you like an open book— and for that you hate him... but only just.

“yeah?” katsuki hums, turning to corner you against the worktop. forgoing your empty cup, your free hands instantly settle themselves on your boyfriend’s hips— the material of his black skinny jeans rough against your palms, sneakily to thread fingers through his belt loops to tug him closer and barely feel flustered by the half lidded gaze bakugou gives you. “if you’re not s’nervous, then why the fuck are you hidden away in here?”

it’s your turn to send your eyes rolling, to which katsuki catches and gives you a gentle nip to the cheek. “i’m not hiding either, i came in here to get a drink for kiri— hey! don’t look at me like that.” the rest of your words fall flat in a whine you don’t mean to set free, bakugou grinning like a maniac above you. his eyes sparkle at the hint of your lie as if he can see right through you, which again... you hate. out of the two of your boyfriends; the blonde was able to pick up on your behaviours slightly faster than kirishima— you put it down the quick reflexes and his complex for wanting to be first at everything but that didn’t make him any less annoying.

in response, bakugou bites down a little harder on your fleshy cheek, pulling you closer by the waist so that your legs wrap around him from over the counter. “a drink that kiri already has, baby? stop lyin’, you loser,” he mumbles into your skin, making you huff. “talk to me.”

“fuck you, but fine...” whining again and with a slight buzz of alcohol to your veins you tilt your head before bakugou can affectionately chomp onto your cheek again and attempt to steal a small peck from him. your love only denies you of this pleasure, at least until you tell him the truth. “okay, okay. i’m in here hiding ‘cause there’s too many people and i’m afraid i’ll be too nervous to talk to your friends.”

“‘m feeling burnt out katsu, there’s so many more people here than i expected and i’m worried that your friends might not like me s’much anymore...”

bakugou smirks, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly whites and you cross your arms in defeat.  “you’re so fuckin’ stupid, yn.”

“fuck you! right up your stupid little ass—“

your blonde boyfriend raises a brow which silences you quickly and makes you wriggle in annoyance. “you’re stupid ‘cause our friends aren’t gonna stop liking you for gettin’ shy— there’s a lotta people out there that aren’t exactly kiri or i.” you perk up at the mention of your latter partner which makes katsuki smile and release you. “just relax. they love you, we love you...let’s just say goodbye to this fuckin’ shitty year, okay?”

you nod and watch as the male moves away from you to fix you both another set of drinks while you adjust yourself to go back into the outside world. the kitchen stays quiet compared to the bass blasted music that echoes throughout the dorm halls, giving you time to grasp at feelings of anxiety and attempt to soothe them— you promise yourself to leave all of the negative feelings behind and focus on making happy memories with your friends. bakugou breaks you from your thoughts and hands you another cup filled with a drink you recognise to be your favourite, he doesn’t speak however and leans back against the worktop to drink his own beverage.

you’ve always liked that he gives you room to think and make a note to show your appreciation later on. your boy’s love language was always through actions and hardly ever words.

but your bubble of sweet silence is soon burst when one of your partner’s friends darts into the kitchen, a look of excitement dancing brightly across pink lined features. her amber eyes land  on you first and swiftly find bakugou after causing a smile to break out against her features. “ohmygod finally, i was wondering where you guys got to! come on, the countdown’s about to start!” you quickly place her name to be mina, remembering her voice from the last time you’d met and offer her a sweet smile in return as her hand reaches out for yours. you take it.

bakugou tsks; clearly irritated but pushes himself off of the counter and follows behind you motherless, mina dragging you in the direction of the living room. somehow she effortlessly weaves you through sweaty bodies of students from the floors below and practically tosses you to the sharks that can be named as your boyfriends’ pals. luckily, your katsuki is right behind you to steady your hips while mina flops onto a couch with the others.

“there they are! two thirds of our favourite lovebirds...” someone to the right of you speaks up; you recognise her to be the roommate you’d walked in on when visiting bakugou’s place before christmas and relax a little. the girl was nice, affectionate and ever so sweet with you the first time you’d met. she curls up in the lap of another guy with green chair, who you presume is the ‘shitku’ or ‘deku’ your lovers had told you about, respectively.

speaking of, katsuki makes himself comfortable next to kirishima on his old loveseat from your hometown— you’d played rock paper scissors with him to keep it, but lost. you couldn’t complain though, the red heard rewarding you with a flurry of kisses in place of the old battered chair.

but with no room and the gang already taking up most of the couch, eijirou pulls you to sit on his thighs and wraps his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss atop your head. “missed you, where’d you go?” he pouts into your neck and fiddles with the frayed ends of your skirt, his free hand grasping at the drink he had.

“i was—“

“she was hidin’ in the kitchen; pretending to fix somethin’.” katsuki cuts you off, earning himself a glare from you and amused chuckles from others ( having pulled their attention away from the countdown on the television ). he attempts to snuggle closer to you both afterwards, making your red headed boy kiss his cheek. you could tell that your explosive boyfriend was feeling a little left out, he’d always doubted himself in the relationship the three of you had ever since he’d found out kirishima had you; his lover back in his hometown,  before college. but you’d loved kiri and couldn’t make him choose between the two people he needed most in his life, so despite the tears and drama...you’d learned to love bakugou as well.

you reach over to squeeze his hand but don’t miss the twitch of his lips into a smile while he watches the live countdown on tv.

kaminari; the blonde who sits at your feet pipes up next— cheeks red from the alcohol he nurses. “why were you hiding, doll?” he hiccups, earning himself a kick to he back from both bakugou and kirishima. “ouchies...”

“she probably wanted to get away from your annoying ass...” sero quips from across the group, where mina lazily toys with his jet black hair; causing bakugou’s roommate to snort and spew her drink in izuku’s face. as far as you were aware, the pair were living together in their apartment off campus and weren’t dating, but might as well have been. katsuki had told you sero was a coward but seeing them now made you think it was cute.

“fuck you, that’s mean!”

“ah, but kaminari my dear friend, it is true...”

a boy with dual eyes chuckles, himself and another figure join the latter male on the ground, hair ruffled and clothes clearly out of place. the girl blinks up at you with a sweet grin before turning to chat with the other girls while eiji fist bumps the male. you remember them as momo and todoroki respectively. bakugou’s roommate checks her watch quickly, a faux frown playing at her lips. “and you guys are done with fourty minutes to spare before new years , a new record...quite frankly, i’m impressed!”

it’s your turn to frown as the newbies blush and attempt to hide their faces. the rest of the group seem amused, sero and denki smirking between themselves, your boyfriends and izuku hiding embarrassed faces while the girls giggle and tease. you can’t help the next words.

“what were they doing?” you whisper innocently and mostly to yourself, unable to focus on the feeling of katsuki pressing kisses to your linked hands to avoid adding to the conversation. however; all eyes teeter over to you, making you freeze up and shuffle nervously in kirishima’s lap.

“fucking in the closet by the front door, they do it every year.” mina teases, causing your face to heat up while momo swats at the pink girl. “nasty right, yn?”

“quit it mina, you’re making her shy!”

you swallow hard and nod shakily, and swear you can almost feel the quiet groan that erupts from katsuki’s chest. “right...”

the group is clearly a little tipsy and you’re not quite drunk enough to feel eat ease with the antics of your lovers’ friends; but one thing lead to another and the topic of conversation lands on you. “maybe yn will get a little new years treat too—“ midoriya slurs somewhere off, by now he and his girlfriend alone have downed a bottle of vodka and cutely make out from time to time. and yet, your boyfriends both have different ideas, the hot headed blonde preparing to launch himself at izuku while the manly red head blushes a shade so deep it could rival his dyed hair.

“what’d you say, shitty nerd?”

it all happens way too fast and you can barely register bakugou’s sudden movement before it’s too late— his elbow jolts as he attempts to kill his best friend’s lover, resulting in eijirou’s drink being knocked clean out of his hand and all over your cute little shirt. you squeal and shudder as the cold liquid seeps right through the thin material, exposing your chest to partygoers and friends alike who cheer as the countdown locks onto thirty minutes until the new year.

kirishima jumps up right after you, shielding your exposed chest from his friends ( mostly denki ) who refuse to look away and leads you up to his room to change while bakugou barks out expletives at deku.

after all it was his fault that your cute tits were out on new years eve.

“what if she’s mad at us kiri? she was already feeling anxious about being here tonight and now—“

“she won’t bakubabe, she loves us and she’ll know it was just an accident, you were defending her honour after all...”

you choose this moment to push open the bathroom door of kirishima’s en-suite, having wiped away most of the beverage that had made your tummy sticky. luckily your skirt had survived his awful choice of rum and cola but at least you smelled nice. two sets of red eyes cast their gaze upon your form, naked apart from the cute pink bra that cups your breasts and tiny skater skirt that sits above your plush thighs.

the boys can already feel their mouths drying at the sight of you have exposed under the yellowing light of kirishima’s dorm room. your skin still shines with the reminders of alcohol as you make your way over to them on the bed, sitting between them with the aforementioned red head’s shirt in your hands.

instantly they shift closer towards you, absorbing your warmth as their fingertips graze your skin. “i told you guys i was fine, i know it was an accident.” you murmur softly, taking both of their hands into yours. “besides, i needed to get out of there for a bit, your friends are—“

“loud?” kirishima offers, kissing your knuckles.

“annoying?” this time it’s bakugou who speaks, shoving his face into your neck to hide from you, still apologetic. his soft blonde hair tickles your neck and you can’t help but giggle gently into the air. “you liked that.”

shaking your head, you pinch at his side and tug eijirou close enough for him to lean his head atop yours. “—they’re a lot, a lot to handle... i just need a little time to calm down before we head back out there.” briefly letting go of your boyfriends’ hands, you reach for the red band t-shirt sitting in your lap in order to shrug it on, but your red headed lover quickly stops you.

“i could think of a few ways to calm you down angel,” he mumbles lowly, so much so that you feel the sound ripple in kirishima’s chest but you’re too distracted by the sudden feeling of katsuki sucking gentle marks into the column of your throat. “we still have a bit of time before we hit midnight on the countdown, right bakugou?”

the hot headed boy only looks up briefly from your bruised and bitten skin, a devilish smirk crossing his lips while the boys work together to push you back onto the sheets. “damn right ei, say we got about twenty minutes to take her mind off things,” your body tingles at the way the talk about you as if you’re not even there, heat beginning to brew in the pits of your tummy. “so, keep the shirt off, won’t you baby?”

you release the offending material as if it’s burnt your palms, thighs spreading instinctively as kirishima’s hand wanders between them to smooth your soft flesh. “yes..., yes katsuki...”

“that’s not what we say, is it babe?” kiri scolds, slapping your inner thigh while bakugou leaves a trail of sloppy kisses that stop just atop your breasts.

“...i mean...yes, sir.”

“atta fuckin’ girl.”

your breath hitches at the feeling of katsuki’s finger tips wrapping around the base of your throat, his touch is delicate and compares starkly with the roughness of his skin— calloused from hard work and use of his quirk. eyes roll to the back of your head at that very thought, the idea that your lover could hurt you in the most delicious of ways using his explosive nature but you have little time to dwell on the fantasy as your other boyfriend moved to hover above your face, ruby red hair tickling at your forehead while he slots his lips against your parted ones.

kirishima’s lips are soft and bitter with the taste of rum clinging to every ridge and imperfection in the skin there so you reach up and weave your fingers through dyed locks in order to bring him closer. meanwhile, bakugou makes quick work of your laced bra— tearing it down to expose your nipples to the cool air they harden under. his hot mouth encapsulates the bud, rolling it between rows of sharp edged teeth in away that has your back arching for more. the blonde ravishes your chest teeth and tongue, while his freehand works on groping your other breast— both of the fleshy mounds being shown equal amounts of attention in different ways, making you whimper wetly against kiri’s mouth.

saliva pools on your tongue, collecting between you and your lover while his own explores the cavern of your hot mouth. the pair of you watch one another with hooded eyes as kirishima pulls away, nothing but a string on your drool connecting you. you swear that every nerve in your body lights up at once just at the sight. “katsuki, you should see yn’s little face right now,” he breathes weightily against your raw lips, hand coming up the squish your cheeks together almost painfully. “we’ve barley even touched her and she’s already looking so fucking fucked out.”

“eiji...sir, please...” you gargle at the mocking lilt to kirishima’s voice and let your hand slip from his hair to cup his wrist as he pinches at your cheeks once more.

but this time, katsuki is the one who speaks to you— vermillion eyes clouded with dark lust when he looks up at you. he’d long moved past his brutal assault on your chest, already leaving a mass of sloppy kisses and bite marks down your abdomen until now, where his head was buried right underneath your little skirt. “the fuck you begging for, slut?” the blonde sneers at you so harshly that pathetic tears begin to pool in your eyes. eijirou is quick to wipe them away before they can hit your heated cheeks but you can tell from the look on his face he’s even more turned on by the sight. “well? i asked you a question.”

“she’s crying, katsuki.”

“don’t give a fuck if she cries or not, i’ll give her a real reason to in a minute.” and katsuki bakugou always lives up to his threats, shuffling back under your skirt to press his tongue flat against your soaked panties. he groans into the material, sending vibrations straight up to your clit before he pulls the sticky material away  from your heat. “god...kiri, she’s s’fuckin’ wet. here.” you writhe against the sheets, jolting as bakugou guides your partner’s free hand to your gummy cunt.

his thick digits press into your sensitive nub and gather your slick between their fingertips, both boys watch in awe and hunger as more of the viscous nectar seeps out of you at their actions. “you’re right, she’s soaked, aren’t you baby?”

you can only nod weakly before the boys pounce, kirishima sucking his fingers clean before they go right back to drawing shapes on your puffy clit. bakugou wastes no time either, pinning you down to the bed with on arm as he slides his pink tongue up you the length of your glistening slit. the two of your lovers work together to make a mess of you, between the blonde slurping at your lower lips likes it his last mean and the red head circling your pleasure button over and over— you have no room to breathe.

all you can do is take what you’re given, throwing your head back as your  high pitched moans mingle with the steady beat of the music out in the hall. your pushy gushes around katsuki’s tongue as he forces it deeper into your tightness, committing each ridge to memory and dirtying his face with more of your juices. eijirou alternates the pressure of his fingers from time to time, grinning brightly every time your face twitches with need or with pleasure. your boys are so good to you, even when they’re in control of your body they always make sure you’re feeling good. getting you off, gets them off.

the waves of ecstasy are rolling off your sweat licked skin, the heat of two bodies pressed against you sending the temperature of your own off of the charts, arching perfectly every time katsuki nips at your pulsing pussy just right or eijirou pinches your clit between finger and thumb. you can’t help but leak all over the place, sure that there’s a dark patch on your innocent little skirt, but it’s worth it for the way your boys make you feel, for they tongue laps over your hard pleasure button even with fingers drawing every shape under the sun on it.

you gasp for air as the knot in your stomach twists and the fire of passion burns a brighter shade in your lower tummy, you sit right on the fence of earth shattering pleasure when both boys rip themselves away from you. “w-why’d...why’d you stop?” you wail, tears threatening to spill once more as your high slips away from your grasp.

you make an attempt to rut your hips into bakugou’s face that sits merely inches away from your sopping cunt, but he only smacks your thigh and cuts his eyes. “we’re checking the time, seeing how long we have left to make you feel good, so quit your fuckin’ cryin, okay?”

sniffling and bucking your hips into the air, you agree silently— only comforted by kirishima when he returns from his phone to cup your cheeks again, pressing kisses to your heated face. he slides his fingers that had been dirtied past your lips in a silent command to suck them clean too. “only twelve minutes left until the new year baby, can you cum, before then?” the red head coos you softly, but you don’t have the chance to respond, for bakugou latches right onto your pussy again, tongue thrusting in and out of your fluttering hole and sliding over your puffy clit.

kirishima hums against your neck while you choke and heave, his lips dancing across the base to add lovebites much harsher than your other lover between your shaky legs. your body calls for release as you tangle your fingers in a forest of blonde, causing your boyfriend to groan and hook his arms around your thighs— sucking, biting and ravishing your poor little entrance at an animalistic pace.

you jerk as the same feeling from earlier begins to unwind in your tummy, hips rolling violently against katsuki’s face. “gonna, mmmph....gonna—“

“what baby? what are you gonna do? be a good girl and tell daddy so he can help you...” eijirou coaxes the whines out of you, nosing up your bruised and bitten skin to trace over your wide parted lips. his own hand moves to join yours in your boyfriend’s hair, pushing his head further into your embarrassingly desperate cunt— lewd and wet sounds filling the air while katsuki growls at the slightly painful feeling.

“cum! gonna cum!” stars start to appear behind your eyes, splashes of colour dancing along your vision much like the people outside your room as you squeal and the knot in your stomach finally unravels with your release. the more explosive one out of your pair of lovers gulps down every drop of your sweet, honeyed release as the after shocks of your orgasm dash through your veins.

you watch with hooded eyes as bakugou leans up from between your slick thighs to share the taste of you in a kiss with kirishima, their tongues slide together in the filthy exchange, riling one another up while their hands slip under their shirts that have suddenly become to tight. stripping the offending garments, both of your boys return to you in your blissed out state, eyes wide with a carnal desire to take you again. “you did so well, naughty little thing,” bakugou hums, voice raspy as he pulls you into his chest. his caramel skin is almost too hot to the touch but it’s all you can focus on while you lose the feeling of eijirou to your left. the sound of a belt clinking further off is faint, but you pay it no heed as the blonde before you lays back with you on top of him. “‘gonna give you our cocks now, ‘kay princess? gonna cum on our cocks while we fuck you into next year...”

suddenly, you become hyper aware of the cockhead that presses against your creamy clit and gently push your hips back against it, just to hear katsuki groan. his large and worn palms settle on your waist as he grinds back to meet your sticky pussy— the feeling making both your mouths fall open in low groans. “gimme your cocks, please,” is all you can say, mind far to hazy to form a proper sentence containing any word other than please. “want it now, can’t wait,” you can barely finish your sentence, too needy to think as you press your lips against bakugou’s for the first time that night, shivering at the taste of your release against his tongue. the kiss is sloppy, going nowhere in particular as you grind against each other and wait for kiri.

speaking of the red headed devil, he leans over the two of you, grabbing your jaw delicately to steal a kiss from you as his own length presses hotly against your backside. “can’t let you two have all the fun, can i?” your boyfriend chuckles breathlessly, slowly circling his hips into your ass, you have no idea how long the boys have been hard for but they waste no more time lifting your hips to align both of their thick cocks against your entrance.

bakugou soothes small circles into your lower back as the two of them press into you,  there’s a slight sting as your hole resists their intrusion— a burn that brings tears to your eyes with the attempt to double stuff you but you bite your lip and focus on the feeling of their leaking tips smearing precum along your velvet lined walls. a broken moan escapes you when they finally bottom out, thick and length girths buried balls deep inside of your throbbing heat and trapping them in.

you pulse around them as the boys wait for you to adjust, their hot breath tickling at your ears and neck. “yn,” katsuki groans, fidgeting beneath you while your nipples harden against his chest. “you’re s’fuckin tight, do we not fuck you enough? shit baby...”

“uhuh, need you ta move, ta fuck me open...please,” you slur, slumping between kirishima and bakugou— you can barely form words, mind too hazy at the thought of being so full of your boyfriends and their leaking, sloppy cocks. they love seeing you so useless between them, barley able to move except for the occasional jump in your hips to prompt them to move.

“so cute, let’s give the poor baby what she wants, yeah katsuki?”

nothing could prepare you for the sudden feeling of both your boyfriends’ thrusting into you at once. it’s a tight fit that has you jolting so far forward, bakugou has to grip your hips to keep you still while kirishima grunts into your neck, hushing his own means with every kiss he places against your skin. the red head places a weighted palm on the base of your spine, forcing your ass up into the air and setting the pace. your cunt spasms with the roughness, soaking their cocks in your honeyed nectar as they push into you, stretching your hole for all it’s worth.

the boys have had their way with you before, usually taking turns forcing their cocks down your throat and painting your tongue with the taste of salty cum or spreading your thighs wide and licking you clean— but the way they double stuff you has you losing your goddamn mind, bright red cockheads catching on every ridge of your gummy walls at every push and pull of their hips. the two aren’t doing any better than you, poor katsuki whimpers at the way you attempt to roll your hips back onto them— chest heaving as his own cock brushes against his lover’s inside of you.

the youngest of the two, eijirou can barely breathe, stuck on how your cunt flutters around them, sweaty chest moulding perfectly with your arched back and hands grabbing fistfuls of your cute fleshy ass. the room is filled with heavy pants and the scent kid your sex in he air, clear liquid seeping down from your twitching pussy onto your thighs and splashing against heir pelvises. “what a sticky fuckin’ mess, huh princess?” the ash blonde somehow manages to mock you, his hazy blood red eyes dancing with amusement as your own well up with tears and your mouth hangs open in a needy wail when when kirishima manages to plough directly into your gummy sweet spot. katsuki weakly grabs hold of your cheeks, and like earlier, forces them together while your babble nonsense about how good it feels. he taps your cheeks a few times, almost as if he’s trying to rouse you from your fucked out state and smirks with pride when all you can do is cry some more. “oh shit, ei, we’ve fucked her dumb.”

his evil laugh rings out into the electric air, mingling with the grunts of your red headed lover and the should of skin slapping on skin. it’s so wet, so dirty and you should feel nasty for how their cocks cream warmly inside of you. the hand that rests of your back ( also belonging to ejirou ) slides up to the back of your neck, tugging you upwards while he chokes you out. “yeah baby? you turning into our dumb, brainless little bitch on new years? how pathetic.” the red haired boy utters hoarsely into your ear, nipping at it with sharpened teeth. the sudden gushing from your iron hot walls gives away how you feel about his degrading words, each one going straight to your core.

you find it in you to nod, arching your back and shivering when your lovers laugh at you, demean you for how much of a stupid slut you’re being when sandwiched between them. “feel so full...want more, fuck me more eiji, harder katsu...” you trip over each of your breathless words, falling into a throaty groan that comes from deep with. you want more, need more— and they give it to you. pumping into you at an eleven faster pace than before, the clapping of balls against your ass and count filling  your ears while the lively music begins to pump outside. ten boys live for his, taking you at a moment where anyone could walk in and see you stretched over their dribbling girths, the thrill drives them insane, drives you to sinful pleasures from worlds away.

“that’s our dumb little bitch, beg for more.” katsuki growls proudly, hand dropping between your entangled bodies to draw searing patterns into your clit— you’d scowl at him for activating his quirk every time his digits sparked over the puffy nub, but you were too far gone to care.

“keep rubbin one out on her bakugou— she clenches down so fucking hard when you do that.” kirishima sighs, hips beginning to stutter.

even the boys are joining you on cloud nine, eijirou tilting your head to get a good look at your face while you bounce back on their hardened lengths. bakugou and kirishima groan in unison at the sight of your lewd expression, eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out of your mouth while drool and tears smear across your mascara stained cheeks. what a fucking mess you are, body flushed and skirt stained, what a fucking mess they’ve made you— a weak and pathetic baby girl who shivers and writes each time a fat cock brushes up against your g-spot. broken laments slip from between your bruised lips as the two of your lovers angle their hips just right, prodding your pleasure spot over and over— and when both boys sneak hands down to press on your tummy bulge, you almost see stars.

your nails dig deeply into the pecks of the blonde beneath you, heart jumping as he lets out a broken howl of pleasure mixed with pain. the faint sound of a count down slips in from behind the closed door and you feel as if it’s a clock ticking towards your organs. desire flares up inside of you as you push and grind against your lover’s to chase your own release. “i’m so close, so so close... gonna cum, don’t stop. please don’t stop!” you chant, screwing your eyes shut while the boys give it their all.

three. the crowd cheers from outside.

“you cum when we say so, you cum on these fat cocks, okay honey? that’s right, that’s fucking right...” bakugou snarls, his own eyes crossing with the immense pleasure he feels from your welcoming heat. you nod feverishly and seek out his hand to hold.

two. drunken shouts spill into the halls, excitement crackling in the air.

their hips stutter, kirshima barley holding on as he works all three of you towards that final hurdle, kissing your cheek softly. “oh shit baby, the way you’re clamping around us...god, you’re gonna make me lose it. you can do it, you can cum for us...”

one. happy new year!

“holy fucking shit!”

“oh, fuck...yeah, yeah...”

colours, like fireworks, burst behind your eyes in flashes as the ecstasy that’s built up within you is finally released. your juices splash against the hips of bakugou and the pelvis of kirishima, painting them with your sweetness and making their skin shine under the yellow artificial light. they follow not long after as you tremble between their bodies; two loads of thick, hot cum spray your insides and cost it white— the potent milky liquid reaching as far as your womb, yet most of it leaking out of your velvet walls.

eijirou collapses to your side on the soiled sheets, watching with awe as a mix of all of your arousals seep out of your abused hole. you squirm in the elder’s  grasp as the red head’s fingers delicately scoop up some of the sticky mess and bring it to his mouth. a satisfied hum leaves his lips as he sucks bus own digits clean, blinking at both you and katsuki sleepily. “happy new year, guys, i love you.”

“yeah yeah, love you both too,” bakugou rolls his eyes but holds an arm out for the younger male to roll into, hugging you both to the blonde’s chest. despite his his gruff and harsh voice, you can still see the traces of adoration on his face. he loves you both so much and wouldn’t dare change this night for the world. “happy new year, ya horny little bastards.”

completely blissed out and too tired to scold him for sounding so mean, however, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the younger’s nose before sneaking one to the grump in which you lie on. “i love you guys so much, you nasty boys.”

the three of stay curled up for a while after that, as the party outside bursts with hopefulness for the new year. it seems as though you’re all going to fall asleep when the door bursts open to reveal a certain tipsy group of friends.

“so this is what you guys were doing instead of celebrating the countdown with us,”  mina chimes, hanging off of sero’s back as she peeks her head through the doorway. you squeal and make a dive for the blankets, hiding your naked body from the view of your lovers’ prying friends.

bakugou’s roommate huffs triumphantly while izuku, todoroki and momo fail to hold back their laughter. “told you she was gonna get laid.”

kirishima flushes red as his hair and makes an attempt to join you in hiding under the sheets while your explosive boyfriend jumps out of the bed in full naked glory, activating his quirk to threaten his friends. “i’m gonna count to three, and all of you better start fucking running before i kick your asses for bursting in on us.”

“but i thought we already had a countdown...y’know for the new year,”denki dumbly comments. “don’t be silly baku bro!” but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on his thought for your angry boyfriend is already chasing him down the hall, explosions sparking at his sides.

it’s the first day of the new year and denki kaminari is already going to die at the hands of abutt naked katsuki bakugou.

happy fucking new year indeed.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #5

Satan: Using Microsoft word

*moves an image a mm to the left*

All text and images shift. Four new pages appear. Paragraph breaks from Union. A swarm of commas buzzes at the window. In the distance, sirens.

•

Asmodeus: Just learned that my “pupil” is a muscle and that means that fact about your eyes dilating when you see someone you like actually means that you’re subconsciously and uncontrollably flexing at your crushes whenever you see them

Mammon: Kind of like a butthole!

Asmodeus: Thanks

•

Leviathan: My stomach growled super loud in French omg

Leviathan: I would like to clarify my stomach did not speak French. It growled in French class I apologize

Satan: Bonjour

Beelzebub: Le growl

Diavolo: Hon hon hon feed me a baguette

Lucifer: Why do I even go on this website

•

Solomon: My friend who works with clowns says that mimes came first so technically clowns are just scene mimes

Satan: Your friend who works with clowns

•

Mammon: How can lawyers argue without crying?

Satan: I am a lawyer and let me tell you it gets like super close dude

•

Simeon: You know that little sea bug with the stupid hands and it has a home but it changes homes sometimes because it gets too big for it?? What is it???

Barbatos: Hermit crab??

•

Belphegor: As a college student my favorite words are “cancelled” and “free”

Satan: Free pizza is cancelled

Beelzebub: Why would you even say something like that?

•

Simeon: Don’t feel bad if you’re sensitive to negative feedback because apparently after one particularly bad review Hans Christian Andersen was found just sobbing while laying face down in the dirt

•

MC: Ways to look more angelic

• carry flowers everywhere

• Pink or gold eyeshadow

• Wear long ankle dresses

• Soft humming

• Have a pink glowy blush

Raphael: • Wield a flaming sword

Leviathan: • Be covered in eyes

Simeon: three pairs of wings

Mammon: Wheel

Michael: Announce your arrival by screaming “FEAR NOT!” everywhere you go

•

Mammon: Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we do the even know each other?

Leviathan: Idiots to lovers, 20k words, angst with a happy ending.

•

Satan: Sorry I have bubonic plague I can’t hang out tonight

Solomon: Aw rats

•

Satan: My favorite thing to do when someone asks me to perform a simple task is to say “No” while doing it.

Belphegor:

Someone: Hey, can I borrow a pen?

Me, getting a bag of pens out: Absolutely not, perish

•

Satan: 8 years old. College reading level. The weight of the world is on my shoulders.

Leviathan: 20 years old. Illiterate, the weight of the universe has given me chronic back pain

•

MC:

Mosquito: *about to bite me*

Me: umm I have a boyfriend

Asmodeus: *little giggles* daddy’s the only one allowed to put their mouth on baby girl - baby girl

MC:

Me:

Mosquito: yikes

•

Satan: Throwing lamps at people who need to lighten up

Solomon: Throwing handles at people who need to get a grip

Leviathan: Throwing refrigerators at people who need to chill

Mammon: Throwing scissors at people who need to “cut it out”

Diavolo: Throwing clocks at people who need to get with the times

Beelzebub: Throwing matches at people who need to get fired up

Belphegor: Throwing a brick at someone to kill them

•

Mammon: Idk how I’d survive without water

Barbatos: You wouldn’t

Mammon: Haha. I feel like that sometimes too. Glad someone loves water as much as I do :)

•

Leviathan: My internet was down for 5 minutes so I went downstairs and spoke with my family

Leviathan: They seem like nice people

•

Mammon: What is it called when you kill a friend?

Mammon: Homiecide

Lucifer: Murder

Mammon: Homiecide

Last • Next

[pookacangetit]

Community!Yuu [Halloween Edition: Pumpkin Chaos]

There are some differences when it comes to Yuu and Twisted's culture of celebrating Halloween. But in the end what remains the same is the fact the prefect probably should visit a therapist and stop causing chaos everywhere they go.

☆HAPPY HALLOWEEN☆

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

Unlike most of the students' aiming for the top tier costumes and makeup effects. Yuu will gladly wear their student uniform, hold a pair of scissors and go "I'm a stressed, overworked and underpaid student ready to commit murder"

There's a line of truth within that sentence which Trein hopes was the former while Crewel hopes it was the latter

They don't have time to dress up and definitely do not have the money to buy stuff

So improvise!

Dead gardener killed by an overzealous master by rolling around the dirt in their shirt and overalls? Punched paper with three circles glued to their shirt? Anything and everything that is cheap

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

Ace: hey prefect, what's with the get-up?

Yuu: hm? I'm dressed as an Asian man with a bald cap on top of a blond wig :3

Ace: … why

Yuu: an inside joke my old laws' professor had, he mentioned something about being held hostage too...

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

Yuu: cool vampire costume, Epel!

Epel: thanks!! Cool... what the fuck are you

Yuu: I'm Evil Yuu! >:D

Epel: ... you just have a paper moustache taped to your face

Yuu: moustaches are evil!!

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

Deuce: you brought your own food? Didn't the teachers mentioned that they'll be providing food from the cafetaria for everyone?

Yuu: can you gurantee that the food here wasn't drugged to the gills with radiation just to get every student high beyond imagination or cause a zombie virus breakout?

Deuce: ... wuh-

Yuu: that's what I thought

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

Unlike being unprepared like last time when a bunch of people broke into their home, Yuu has done their homework and booby-trapped the entire dorm

The Home Alone series of traps that incapacitate people rather than those You're Next or Saw traps though

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

Yuu: to ensure my home isn't invaded again I glued pumpkins to every inch of the ceiling in Ramshackle with temporary glue

Yuu: I even had a post outside that read: Beware of Falling Vegetables!

Crowley: … you sent three students, on separate occasions, to the hospital for concussions

Yuu: it's their fault for not paying attention to the sign

Crowley: you glued pumpkins to your ceiling

Yuu: well they didn't read the bulletin board on my yard that shouts FALLING VEGETABLES

Yuu: Besides, a pumpkin to the head won't do that much damage, back in Greendale people had dimes up their ass and no one got infected by anything

Yuu: well, except that failed STDs party...

Crowley:

Crowley: are you sure you went to college and not a mental ward?

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

Ignihyde student: wait, where are you going?

Savanaclaw student: the Ramshackle prefect's dorm, I need to borrow the ghosts for a bit

Ignihyde student: are you insane?!

Savanaclaw student: what're you scared of? It's the Ramshackle prefect, the magicless student

Ignihyde student: the magicless student who managed to send five students to the hospital with a duckie pond, a duckie. pond.

Savanaclaw student:

Ignihyde student: also Leona-senpai gave them some barbed wires prior to today-

Savanclaw student: let's leave the Ramshackle prefect alone shall we? :)

*meanwhile*

Pomefiore student: WHY IS THE PREFECT'S FLOOR COVERED WITH MARBLES

Diasomnia student: I DON'T KNOW, HELP ME WITH THESE CREEPY DOLL HEADS- WHY ARE THEY MOVING HELP AAAAAHHHHHH-

Yuu: MUAHAHAHAHA >:3

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

Crowley didn't fully realised what asking (read: withholding the prefect's allowance and guilt-tripping them until they agree) the prefect to plan the school's Halloween party would entail.

If he did, he wouldn't have even thought of the prefect as a candidate for the event planner in the first place.

To put it simply, it was a disaster.

"I absolutely love this party!" Ambrose, who should not even be here mind you, jovially cheered as he patted Crowley on the back, wearing a star-patterned robe and cone hat the prefect had supplied.

Neige, the second person who should not be here because Vil had gone mad the minute he saw him until he nearly died laughing and choking in horror at what the boy was wearing, nodded as he drank a cup of tomato juice.

Crowley didn't dare lay his eyes on the absolute abomination the boy was wearing.

A hot pink shirt reading Fergalicious, a pair of leather pants held by chains, green boots and an orange cowboy's hat. All supplied by the prefect who, thankfully, only choosed the costumes of the guests.

At least Neige had been absolutely over the moon when he received the outfit. Crowley counted that as a miniscule win but- no, absolutely no.

The prefect did pretty well though, with the design of the party and the food choices. But the reason, other than the fashion wreck of what Yuu considers a Halloween costume, why Crowley concluded the party was a disaster was the ugly, soul-destroying, mantra the prefect was playing in place of music.

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly-"

Whatever the prefect was playing on loop with their monotone voice that sounded like something that shouldn't exist but it did, was torture and Crowley is definitely docking their pay.

"I wonder if they would give me the script of whatever they're monolouging." Ambrose mused.

"Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow!-"

I am a respectful gentleman. I will not smash my head on the nearest wall just for an excuse to escape. Crowley repeated in his mind.

[professorrw]

hii can you do a professor loki x reader smut !! where she is being a tease and he punishes her over his desk with degrading or teasing ? thank you !!! 💘💘

Pairing: female reader x Prof!Loki

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, pet names (kitten, darling), age gap (reader in college, Loki is 40), some degrading, light edging, fingering, swearing, begging

A/N: Requests are open for one-shots, headcanons, imagines, and drabbles for My Hero Academia, Harry Potter, and Marvel! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on that just tell me! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You were a broke student going to a prestigious college. Of course that school had the best professors. At least that’s what you had heard. But you weren’t prepared for one of your professors to be so hot. Compared to your other teachers he was one of the youngest at the ripe age of forty when you were in your senior year.

Everything about him just screamed sex appeal. You weren’t one to judge someone solely on appearances but damn, he was fine. He had a sexy British accent and dark black hair and the way he rolled his sleeves up showcased his arms in just the right way. It didn’t help your concentration when he wore those tight black khakis that squeezed against his ass.

To help pay for your college tuition you became a teachers’ assistant. You did a lot of work for Professor Laufeyson and soon something began to bud. At first it was just friendly banter but then it developed into more. By the end of the school year you and your professor had a secret relationship. It was easier to keep it a secret because you were a teachers’ assistant. You could go to his classroom after hours and no one would bat an eyelash.

Over the summer your romance really hit it off. By your senior year you two were still going strong. So strong in fact you would tease him during class. It was blistering hot one day, which gave you an excuse to wear a loose top and a skirt. When you leaned over your desk the top was just low enough that your cleavage would be on display.

When he was doing a lecture and caught sight of your chest his breath would catch and he would falter, then go straight back to teaching. After class though when you came back to drop off papers you knew what was going to happen.

You knocked on the door to his office and he called for you to come in. You stepped into the room which was only lit by the lamp next to him. The lamp shade casted his mahogany desk in an orange glow. His walls were lined with the same material of bookshelves, which were filled with a variety of books.

He was grading assignments but when he saw you he set his pen down and sat back in his chair. He took off his reading glasses and set them down on top of the paper he was previously looking at. He crossed one of his legs over the other and intertwined his fingers in his lap. His polished black shoes were bobbing up and down and tapping on the floor.

He gave you a sultry smile before he started talking. “You’re very naughty. I saw what you were doing earlier. Were you trying to tease me darling?”

“Maybe.”

He ‘tsked,’ “I think you’ll need to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

“I suppose I do.” You were looking forward to the so-called punishment. It wasn’t actually a punishment at all. He would bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk anymore. In your book that was a treat.

“Sassy little thing aren’t you? Well, you know how this goes,” he said. He picked up his stack of papers and put them in his seat which he had stood from. He set the books in a stack next to his desk and put the lamp on top of it. From the new position of the light it was harder to see than before. The light was still on the ceiling and the sides of the desk, but it wasn’t as bright as earlier.

You indeed knew how this went. You walked to his desk and bent over, plump ass sticking out just for him. He walked around his desk and placed a hand against your ass. He let out a low chuckle.

“No underwear darling? I hope you haven’t let other people see your tight little pussy.”

“I haven’t. It’s only for you,” you said.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He rubbed and pinched your butt cheeks before he even went near your vagina. He slotted his hand between your legs and pushed your feet so they would be further apart. He ran his thumb along your folds before he put it inside you. You started moaning as he moved his thumb around inside you.

“Let me hear you kitten,” he purred.

You moaned more as he increased the intensity of his movements. He took his thumb out and added two other fingers. He curled and scissored and pumped them in and out, doing everything he knew would make you cum. You were gripping the edge of his desk and he was fingering you so intensely in a few minutes of his cooing and your moaning you were about to reach your orgasm.

“I’m- I’m about to cum.”

“Not yet kitten. You’ve been naughty.” He pulled his fingers completely out of you, making a whine come out of your lips.

“Being needy will only make your punishment worse. Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

He had built you up until you were seconds away from coming and then stopped. Of course you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to put his fingers or dick in your vagina or else you would finish yourself off.

“No. Please- Please fuck me. I’ll stop being naughty,” you begged.

“You like it when I fuck you?”

“Yes- Yes. Please-” you were cut off by something being pressed against your slit. He had unzipped his pants and lined himself up whilst you were talking.

You pushed the rest of his length in by the time he was fully in you were close to your orgasm again. He immediately started thrusting, fulfilling your need for him. He wasn’t going to go easy on you at all. He was already going fast when he started and he had to hold onto your shoulders for support. His balls were slapping against you at every thrust, filling the room with grunts, moans, and the sound of slapping.

Loki himself wasn’t the type to last rounds and if he really wanted he could cum quickly. He intended to cum right after you did so when you screamed out he knew it was time. Your cum spilled out and covered his dick, creating less friction.

Just moments later his seed squirted into you. After a few more slower thrusts he pulled out, cum dripping with his and your cum combined. You turned around slowly, trying not to aggravate your sensitive pussy. There in front of you was Loki, who hadn’t pulled his pants back up and had his dick just hanging out.

“Why don’t you make it up to me and clean this up?” He motioned to his cock and you eased yourself onto your knees. You licked and sucked on his dick until all the juices were cleaned off. When you were finished you stood back up and Loki pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Thank you kitten. Do you want to stay for a drink?”

You stayed for a few more hours and had a drink with your professor until you had to go back to your apartment for the night.