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tswaney17 · 2 years

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My Son

As I write this, it saddens me to know that this is my last @elriel-month fic. This month went by so quickly, and there was such amazing content produced from it. I want to recognize all of the fantastic people who participated in Elriel Month, both in producing content and those who consistently like, comment, reblog, share, etc. the work that is produced. It's been such a fun month, and a huge thank you to all of those who put it on. A lot of time, effort, and work goes on behind the scenes to keep these appreciation months running. Y'all are amazing. 🌸🦇

Now on to the fic. This is part 2 of Little One. I've had this fic written for months and I'm super excited to share it with you. Please let me know your thoughts! 💙💜💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, some descriptions of canon-typical violence, very minor adult descriptions

Word Count: 4,127

Elain sat at their kitchen table, a gurgling Rosalie tucked in the crook of her arm, Kaden sat across from her munching on some freshly baked pastries, cured meats, and sipping on fruit juice. A cup of tea rested against her palm as she smiled down at her son who happily hummed while eating his breakfast, bare feet kicking under his chair. It was just the three of them this morning, Azriel having been called away by their High Lord for an urgent meeting at nearly the crack of dawn.

He apologized profusely for not only waking her so early but also for having to leave her, to which he made up for with his head between her legs as the sun broke the horizon, casting an orange glow into their bedroom.

“How do you like your pastries, Kaden?” she asked, readjusting her swaddled daughter who had started to fuss in her arms. Though thoroughly sated, once the shadowsinger left their bed this morning, Elain knew she wasn’t going back to sleep and decided to get up and try out a new pastry recipe for breakfast.

The little Illyrian flashed her a big, toothy grin. “I wuv them, momma!” he shouted excitedly, crumbs smeared on his pink lips.

Elain couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at being called momma by him. It had taken quite a while for Kaden to grow comfortable in his new home. He had been living with them for right around five months now and had only begun calling her “momma” a few weeks ago. He had yet to bless Azriel with a fatherly name, much to his dismay, but they both knew that with Kaden’s early childhood ordeal, his attachment to Illyrian males would be a slow one. It would come, he just needed to be patient she assured him.

They also took introducing Kaden to his new family slowly, only allowing them over one at a time so as to not overwhelm him. Meeting Elain’s sisters and Mor went easily enough, but that wasn’t where they were concerned. Though Rhys was the High Lord and half Illyrian, Kaden was clearly more intimidated by Cassian’s larger stature and permanent presence of wings. The general, hoping to bond with the little one, proceeded to sit on the floor with their son for an hour and played with the stuffed bear he brought with him. It wasn’t until Nesta showed up looking for her husband that Cassian departed, happily receiving a shy hug on his one leg before he left.

“I’m glad, sweetie. Maybe next time I make them, you can help momma? Would you like to do that?”

Little hands hit the table in excitement. “Yes! Yes, pwease momma, can we?”

She smiled down at him with so much love. “Of course, baby.” Elain propped Rosalie on her shoulder, running a soothing hand down her back as the terrace door opened and her husband entered. “Look, Kaden. Daddy’s home. Why don’t you go get dressed now so we can head out soon?”

Despite not calling Azriel “daddy” yet, both he and Elain had decided to refer to each other by paternal names in hopes that it would encourage him to make the connection as to who he was to them, and who they were to him.

He was their son.

And they were his parents.

No matter the blood or lineage, nothing would change that.

“Okay!” He wiggled from his chair and made a mad dash from the table to his bedroom as the shadowsinger approached, a soft smile on his face watching Kaden run from the kitchen.

Azriel dropped a kiss to her lips, and then one to the top of Rosalie’s head, his fingers brushing her rogue wisps of curls. “Good morning, my little love,” he whispered.

She couldn’t help but smile at their daughter’s coo of greeting. “What did Rhys need you for so early this morning?” Elain asked as they began clearing the table of the breakfast spread.

Hazel eyes met her gaze and something twisted in her stomach at the worry she saw there. “There’s been a scuffle at one of the Illyrian camps,” he stated, setting dishes in the sink.

Elain’s brows furrowed. “How bad?”

“Rhys, Cassian, and I are about to head there to handle the situation.”

The inflection of his voice told her that there was information left unsaid. “There’s something else.”

Azriel huffed, leaning back against the counter. His strong arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s the camp that Kaden’s biological father is at.”

The thought of that awful male made Elain want to find her son, cradle him in her lap, and never let go. “Do you think we should be concerned?”

He ran a scarred hand through his inky locks. “He’s a camp Lord and we are within the twenty-four-hour window of the Blood Rite, which means he has magic and can winnow. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Those golden irises blazed in fury.

“Lorenzo didn’t want anything to do with him. Why would he be making a fuss now?” It didn’t make sense. That male lost any right to claim Kaden as his son when he dropped him off at that orphanage and didn’t come back. Elain had later learned that her son had been there going on a year now and the Lord hadn’t made a peep about his child. It was both heartbreak and rage that had warred within her at that knowledge.

The shadowsinger shrugged. “Maybe word got back to him that he was adopted?”

“He left him at an orphanage!” she hissed, patting Rosalie’s back when she started to squirm.

Azriel took a step closer to her, his hand touching the back of his daughter’s head. “I think it could be about who adopted him too,” he said a bit quietly.

Elain’s heart twisted. She knew what he was hinting at. That the camp Lord wouldn’t deem Az worthy enough to raise even a child he gave up. “If he believes you unworthy to love that boy then I’ll kill him myself.”

The corner of his lips turned up briefly. “I will never stop being grateful for your devotion to me, my love.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I know you don’t like to be sidelined and that you can protect yourself, but I think you and the kids should stay away from Illyria today. I just—” a frustrated hand ran through his hair. “I can help but worry that the scuffle at the camp is to pull me away from you three at the orphanage.”

“Az,” she breathed, reaching out to grip his forearm, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his tanned, tattooed skin. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.

He ducked his head. “Of course, I’m scared. He’s my son. Our son. I will do anything to protect him, Rosalie, and you.”

Elain nodded in agreement. “We don’t take chances here, not when it comes to our children. If you think there’s a risk with the three of us going to the camps, no matter how small, we won’t go. I won’t put our babies in danger.”

Her husband let out a sigh of relief, tugging her and Rosalie into his arms. He kissed her softly, conveying all his love and emotion for her and their little family from his lips. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Feyre said she has a morning class with some younger children at the studio today and that you’re more than welcome to bring Kaden by to paint.”

“I think he would like that. Maybe we’ll take a stroll through the Rainbow and the park by the Sidra, too.”

It was rare to see the Night Court spymaster drop all his masks and show his true self. A male so full of love, joy, and devotion. But since the birth of Rosalie, and the adoption of Kaden, Elain had seen it more and more on Azriel’s face. It was her favorite look on him, one he tended to wear when he fed and rocked his little girl to sleep, or when he’d peek in on his son as he slept, checking to make sure he was okay. It was the same look he wore now.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Padded feet tore down the hallway and slid into the kitchen. Both parents turned to look at a disheveled Kaden.

“Azweel! Can you but-tin my wing slots, pweeze?”

A low chuckle rumbled from Azriel’s chest as he stepped out of her embrace. “Sure buddy, come here.”

Kaden’s undeveloped magic prevented him from being able to button the flaps of his shirt around his wings alone. He’d be able to eventually, but for now, either she or Az would have to help him, not that they minded.

“Wings up,” Azriel said, reaching underneath the membranes to snap the flaps together.

“Where are your shoes?” Elain asked, once his shirt was secured.

Little, tanned toes fluttered on the stone floor. “By the door, momma.”

Her husband helped Kaden tug on his shoes as Elain secured a now sleeping Rosalie to her chest, allowing both her arms to be free. It was a wrap that Feyre swore by when she had Nyx, and Elain was inclined to agree. Having both arms available while she ran errands was indeed a lifesaver.

After explaining the change of plans to Kaden, he reached up and took Azriel’s ring and pinky finger in his small hand. “Are you coming with us?”

Her husband knelt, “Sorry, buddy. Uncle Rhys needs daddy’s help right now.”

Kaden’s lower lip jutted out in a way that Elain knew Azriel struggled to say no to. Even now, she could see the war of his vow to his High Lord and the need to protect his son dance across his face with his desire to stay with them.

He cleared his throat. “Tell you what; as soon as I’m finished with your uncle, I’ll meet up with you guys and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. How does that sound?”

The little Illyrian brightened, and he shouted in glee.

Az tugged him to his chest, kissing him on the top of his black hair. “I’ll see you later, son. I love you.”

“I wuv you too, Azweel.”

He stood, turning back to her.

“Be safe,” Elain said lowly enough to not let Kaden overhear them.

Az nodded. “I will. I’ll come home as soon as I can.” He slid a hand to her jaw to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them, then pecked the top of Rosalie’s head. “I love you,” he whispered to them both, before vanishing into the shadows.

Elain’s stomach turned restlessly. Something about the whole situation still didn’t feel right, but she would stay strong for both her husband and her son. Swallowing her nerves, she took Kaden’s hand to make their way into the bustling streets of Velaris.

~~~

The three of them strolled through the park along the glittering waters of the Sidra River having finished their painting session earlier and a delicious lunch at a small café moments ago. Kaden’s painting was sitting at Feyre’s studio, which Elain was to go pick up in a few days once it was dry. It was mostly strokes of colors and handprints, but she still thought it was the most beautiful artwork, biased or not.

Warm rays of the sun beat down on them, bringing about a flush of color on her skin and the golden hues on both of her children’s darker complexions.

Kaden had taken off, chasing after a colorful butterfly.

Elain followed the sounds of his giggles. “Stay close, Kaden!” she called when he got a bit too far for her comfort.

Ever the good listener, he rounded back towards her, stopping to look at a small coping of rose bushes. “Look, momma! Woses!” he shouted, the r sound still coming out like a w. It was something they were working on with him.

“Yes, they are, good job!” she said back, stopping beneath a shaded tree for some much-needed cooling. Kaden had taken to her garden and she took the time to teach him the names of the various plants and flowers she was growing.

Elain placed a hand on the top of Rosalie’s head, feeling the warmth of it. It was an unusually balmy spring day, one that predicted the early onset of summer.

A blip on the horizon caught her eye. She watched it as it came closer, membranous wings flapping to send it hurtling through the sky towards her.

Elain’s head cocked as she studied the movement, so unlike her husband’s elegance, Cassian’s strong presence, or even Rhys’s regal grace. Brown eyes widened as she realized who, exactly, was flying towards her.

Towards her son.

She was moving then. “Kaden!” she screamed, “Kaden, come here, right now!”

At his mother’s distressed voice, he turned, running towards her.

With a hand holding onto the back of Rosalie, Elain cradled Kaden’s head and shoved him behind her just as the Illyrian male slammed into the ground in front of them. She felt the impact through her feet.

The park was fairly empty, but the few fae present took off at the sight of the unknown Illyrian, leaving her utterly alone with him.

Kaden’s fists gripped the skirts of her lilac dress, and though every instinct in her told her never to back down from a threat, she would not risk it with both of her children in the line of fire. Elain stepped back, moving her son with her.

The male, a version of what her son may one day have features of, savagely grinned down at her. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones with a long nose. His hair was worn similar to how Cassian kept his, but a shade or two lighter. He wasn’t as large as her husband, she realized. Az had him beat by several inches and his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. But even with that knowledge, everything about the male in front of her screamed warrior.

Dangerous.

Threat.

Her magic rumbled in her chest in response. The siphon on her ring flared once, throwing up a thin barrier between them and him—Azriel’s magic sealed away for when she needed it. The shadow that adorned her finger as a wedding band vanished.

“So,” he drawled, sounding utterly bored. “I finally get to meet the pretty, little pet that has captured the heart of the bastard-born shadowsinger.”

Elain snarled at the taunt. “Watch your tongue, Lorenzo,” she snapped.

That malicious grin grew. “And you’ve heard of me. Perfect. Hand over my son, and I’ll be on my way.”

She angled herself, shielding Kaden further behind her. “He is not your son. Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you flap your way back to where you came from.”

The smirk faded and something far deadlier took its place. “My blood runs through his veins—”

“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” she spat, vehemently. “You lost your right to claim him when you left him at that orphanage. Kaden is mine and Azriel’s son. Now and forever.”

“If you think I’m going to let you and that pathetic excuse of an Illyrian raise—”

Her blood raged like a weathered storm. One that toppled the largest of ships and swept armies into the depths of the sea. Her magic responded in kind, light bursting out of her and shoving him back a step. His eyes widened at the surprise drop she got on him. “That pathetic excuse of an Illyrian is a thousand times more of a male than you could ever dream of being. And if you say one more thing like that about my husband, I will gut you here in this park.”

The red siphon flickered on his chest in response to her attack. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” he demanded, voice edging dangerously close to levels Elain knew meant he was about to lose his temper.

She curled the corner of her mouth up. “A low-level camp lord with a single siphon? Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” She threw as much disdain in her voice as she could muster. “I think the better question is, do you know who you’re speaking to?” At his silence, she grinned. “Cauldron-blessed Seer. The Mother reincarnated. And what are you here doing? Trying to take a child away from his mother. Believe me when I say I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ll end you and your brat if need be,” he countered, taking a step forward to try and intimidate her.

But Elain had felt another’s presence as he neared. Saw in her peripheral vision the dark swath of shadows above their heads. “You hurt me or my daughter, you take my son, and I can promise you that you won’t make it out of Velaris alive.”

Before he could respond, a solid mass of muscle and wings dropped from the sky, forcing Lorenzo to take a step back lest he wanted to be smashed beneath Azriel’s large frame. Her husband’s knees bent as he landed, absorbing the impact. As he stood to his full height, his wings stretched out, blocking her and their children from the other male’s view.

The ground shook from his landing, and Elain felt Kaden push himself further into her legs. She brushed her thumb over the back of his head, hoping to soothe him with her touch.

“Get back,” Azriel growled, voice colder than what he used as the Night Court spymaster. Shadows skittered out, flitting around her and the kids, searching for any signs of injury. When they finished their assessment, they turned their attention back on Lorenzo, swirling like shards of ice, pushing him back, back, back. “Stay away from my son.”

“He is not your son.”

"We adopted him. We took him into our home. We fed him, and clothed him, and loved him. He is as much our son as our daughter is and nobody is going to take that away from us.” He took several steps forward, forcing the male backward again.

With the added space between them, Elain felt the shield in front of her reinforce itself.

“Momma,” Kaden croaked through the plaits of her skirts. Large tears filled his hazel eyes.

Her hand swept through his hair. “It’s okay, Kaden. You’re safe.” She pulled him closer to her hip, letting her other hand come down to rest protectively on his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over his dark lashes.

Kaden buried his face back into swaths of her dress.

Thunder cracked like two boulders crashing together.

Elain’s head snapped to the side to see Rhys step out of rolling darkness, decked in his full Illyrian leathers. His lack of normal attire told her he had come ready for bloodshed.

“Lorenzo,” the High Lord drawled. “You’re far from home.”

The other Illyrian, seeing he was now outnumbered, grew even more furious. “I came to take what was is mine,” he fumed, reaching back for the sword sheathed across his back.

“He is not some object for you to collect,” Az stated furiously.

“He is mine,” the Lord shot back.

Azriel tensed, glancing back at her and then looking down at Kaden who was peeking at them behind her skirts.

Elain saw his hand twitch for the legendary dagger strapped to his thigh, but he didn’t grab it.

He returned his gaze to Lorenzo. “I’m not going to end your life here, no matter that you deserve it. My son has already seen enough bloodshed in his short life because of you. I won’t add to that.”

The camp Lord just smiled, “Then you’re only going to make him as weak as you are.” And then he struck, the Illyrian metal singing as it aimed for a killing blow—decapitation.

Seven blue siphons flared. Lorenzo went flying backward, his sword ripped from his hand by shadows.

“Daddy!”

“Kaden!” Elain screamed, reaching out to try and stop the little Illyrian from running into the fray, but it was too late.

His little legs carried him fast over the ground and Azriel barely had a chance to whip around before a little body tackled him. “Daddy!” he cried again, clutching at his leathers with small fists.

A blue shield shot up, enclosing her husband and her son in a protective barrier. He wasted no time lifting Kaden into his arms, a scarred hand threading through his black tresses to hold him close.

Tiny arms went around his neck as Kaden pressed his damp face above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpered into his shoulder.

Azriel moved his hand from the back of his head to between his wings, rubbing strokes like he would when his son would wake with nightmares. “You’re not going anywhere, Kaden. Nobody is taking you from us.” He kissed the side of his head, allowing a few minutes to comfort his son.

Elain’s heart ached, wanting to go to them, but also not wanting to let a second child get too close to Lorenzo’s unhinged state again.

Azriel nodded towards her, assuring her that their son was safe.

It sent a wave of relief rushing through her.

He turned, finding Rhys hauling Lorenzo to his feet.

The disgust on the Illyrian male’s face at her husband holding their son made her hackles rise, enough so that her magic rumbled in response. She dampened it, not wanting to wake her daughter that somehow had stayed asleep through everything so far.

The look of the spymaster replaced Az’s hardened features. “I granted you a chance to walk away. I want you to remember that when your High Lord winnows you back to the camp to face him and your general. But if you come after my family again, you even have thoughts about my son, your life is forfeited.” Azriel gave his brother a curt nod, watching as the High Lord and Lorenzo winnowed away.

Shields lowered and both parents were striding for each other. Tears pricked her eyes as her husband embraced her and Rosalie with one arm, still holding Kaden in his other. Scarred fingers found her jaw, tilting her head up to bring their mouths together in a desperate kiss, needing to feel her presence. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes darting to check over their daughter.

“We’re fine,” she breathed, her hand reaching up to lay it on Kaden’s lower back, rubbing it. She glanced back up at her husband’s face, seeing a look of awe that had settled there.

He called me daddy, he mouthed at her, silver lining his eyes. He had been waiting for Kaden’s willingness to grace him with that name—had been getting antsy for it.

Elain let out a choked sound, gripping her husband’s wrist with her other hand. I know, she mouthed back.

Kaden twisted his head, propping his cheek on Azriel’s shoulder, his arms were still wrapped around his neck.

The shadowsinger dropped a kiss to his forehead as Elain let her nails scratch at his back. “I was going to suggest we go get a frozen treat after our walk,” she started, catching her son’s eyes. There was a far-off look that she didn’t like seeing. “Does that sound good to you, Kaden?”

The little Illyrian nodded, though he gave no vocal response.

It worried her, his unwillingness to speak. They had broken through so many barriers in getting him to open up after he came home with them—she hated the idea of this setting him back. “Do you want to see if daddy can join us?” she tried, seeing how he clung to his father, though she knew Az had no intentions of leaving them alone.

Not for a while.

She also knew Az was well aware of what she was trying to do too.

Kaden was silent for a moment, but both parents waited patiently, giving him the time to voice his thoughts. “Can you, daddy?” he finally whispered.

The shadowsinger visibly hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Of course, we can,” he choked out. The emotional vulnerability rang clear in his voice. Lifting Kaden higher up on his hip, Azriel took Elain’s hand in his scarred one and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.

Her heart swelled. Resting a hand on the back of a still sleeping Rosalie, the family of four strolled through the park and spent the rest of the day enjoying treats and each other’s company.

~~~~~

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23lvrs · 1 year

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i’ve been very ia bc ive been actually very productive but now that i’m sick i’ve some how remain productive stuff but sickness makes me sleep early so i haven’t stayed up to make anything even post on twt my apologies this month is kinda very busy this summer i might be busy af too i’m getting ready for college and stuff so yea also i need to learn to drive… i have a lot going on hopefully i find at least some time to post I WILL KEEP POSTING but very slowly i’m sorry ik a lot of u are asking for request you can keep requesting but they will be done super slow but anyways this week and next week i have sm to do and also i’ll just be going out w friends or wtv also celebrating mothers day and you know just yea i’m kinda ranting now so i made sure to make ig important stuff bold and red ANYWAYS yes this was an update ig idk when my next post will be but i’ll make it when i’m free love u guys <3

i hope ur all doing great being safe and eating well <3

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dearest-painter · 2 years

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Meet Doc’s kids!!

April’s hearing is really sensitive like loud noises make her cry because of her super hearing. April wears headphones as the tone out lots of sounds surprisingly her best friend is the loudest mother fucker Aran he actually fights people whenever April has her headphones off and has asked them to pipe down but that only if they don’t. April is a 20 year old girl who makes music for a living and is doing successfully as she started when she was 16! She learnt many languages as she wants her listeners not to feel left out at all.

April isn’t a picky eater while yes she may seem like it she just doesn’t get hungry often but Aran does force her sometimes. April is much more laidback and chil then her two siblings and dad but that’s doesn’t mind!! Her mom isn’t in her life but her step mom is the fucking best. April doesn’t trust people easily and takes time to get use to new people but if she starts the conversation that means she really wants to be your friend but will go slow. She isn’t a fighter just the extra referee if the original one is sick. she has a temper…but she’s really supportive!!

“OI! FUCK HEADS! YA DO THAT AGAIN IMMA CLIMB INTO THIS RING AND BEAT YOUR ASS UNTIL YOUR ANCESTORS ARE DISAPPOINTED IN YOU!!” “Hey,good luck out there,I’ll be cheering you on!”

Asahi is a extremely supportive and motherly but doesn’t push boundaries at all. Asahi’s best friend would have to be Disco kid as their energy matches each other perfectly but if it wasn’t him then it would have been bald bull. It knows Turkish and English and ASL plus other sign languages. She isn’t a boxer but it works at build a bear surprising aint it(It’s not). Asahi was a bit of a mother figure for her siblings as she is a 27 year old Demi girl and is the oldest child of Doc but the most energetic of all of them.

Asahi will eat anything as it’s willing to learn more stuff! She is the most energetic and chaotic then all it’s siblings because of how adventurous she was. Their mom wasn’t in their life but their stepmom is the best and raised all of Doc’s kids so they all see her as mom and really love her!! Asahi is a social butterfly and makes lots of friends but when meeting them she is really calm as it doesn’t want to scare them. If she cusses at someone MAKE SURE IT DOESNT KILL THEM!

“MOTHER FUCKER ARE YOU THE ONE WHO HURT THIS SWEET BABY!? OH YOU ARE!! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE AND MEET MY TASER!”

“I know you are going to do the best!! We’ll be cheering you on!!”

Vito is a 26 year old trans man who is the mixture of his siblings calm and energetic. His best friend is king hippo and Soda popinski,he surprisingly understands King hippo and translates for him plus he understands Soda popinski and translates for him to. Vito is a boxer and is known as Galaxy ranger as his theme is Galaxy,he’s in the major circuit right after Great tiger. He makes stuffed animals and sells them online plus weighted one and ones with mental illness,disorders,and things that aren’t really know to make sure everyone is represented.

He daydreams often and is really sleepy. He isn’t a cheater and follows boxing rules and is a good sport! Vito doesn’t like speaking often and uses a notebook to speak sometimes but Don(yes he and Don are friends) will say what Vito wishes to if Vito doesn’t wanna write or talk that day. He also knows ASL. Vito makes friends but knows how long it will take by one look he’s really smart!! Vito always respects others and is willing to learn new things! He’s protective of his friends like really protective and fights for them

“LISTEN HERE YOU DUMBASS! I KNOW DAMN WELL YOU DIDNT JUST INSULT THEM! BECAUSE IF YOU DID YOU WOULD’VE BEEN IN THE HOSPITAL AS I WOULD’VE BROKEN YOUR LEGS AND GOTTEN AWAY WOTH IT NOW APOLOGIZE!!”

“May the best fighter win.”

#punch out ocs #punch out oc

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averykedavra · 3 years

Note

91. “i’m not kissing you in the rain, we’ll catch our deaths!” with logince, if you’d like?

(A classic! I wrote a version of this here with loroyality, if you’d like to read that, too!)

Words: 3367

Roman knew that real-life romance wasn’t exactly like it was in the movies.

For one thing, kissing sleeping princesses was frowned upon, for obvious reasons. For another, dragons did not usually frequent college campuses. There was also a distinct lack of princes, although there was a tower for the astronomy classes, which could perhaps serve as a prison.

In general, it was highly disappointing.

Still, Roman tried to make the most of it. Some romantic tropes could still be employed--flowers, for instance, or surprise dates, or fountains.

The campus even had a lucky fountain! Toss a penny in at the beginning of the year, and you’d get straight As. Roman had done so, of course. It hadn’t worked. Maybe the luck came on a delayed schedule. Roman still believed.

Roman believed in a lot of things--lucky fountains, fairies, and a Disney-style romance. Just because they hadn’t worked didn’t mean they wouldn’t work! He just had to do them right.

The first two were difficult to tackle during a semester of classes, but the third was attainable.

Especially when his science partner was so cute.

Logan apparently liked science class, which made him a nerd, but Roman could forgive that. It had made their science labs far easier. And it was eclipsed by his cuteness, in a way that somehow made the nerdiness also cute. That was a powerful skill indeed, and one that Logan deployed without thought. Whenever he wrinkled his nose or rolled his eyes or slid into a tangent about physics, Roman found himself in a bubble of happiness.

In a movie, there would be actual bubbles, or maybe flowers. Or maybe just a glow. Things still glowed when Logan was nearby, but Roman was pretty sure that was all in his imagination. He sent a picture of Logan to Virgil, in order to check. You’re in deep, was all that Virgil texted back.

And yes! Yes, Roman was in deep, and he was not ashamed! He was in love. Well, like--he couldn’t quite be in love at first sight, or even fifth study session, because that wasn’t how real life worked. He liked Logan, though. A lot. He wanted to kiss him on the cheek and listen to him talk about space.

It was hard to tell if Logan liked him back. Real life, unfortunately, held the large possibility that Logan did not. But Roman used his incredible observation skills, and by the third time Logan flushed when they bumped shoulders, he was pretty sure.

Logan liked him. Roman liked Logan, too.

Simple--this was the ‘ride into the sunset’ part of things. Except that involved one of them telling the other, and Roman could just say he liked Logan, but that wasn’t what he was supposed to do! He was supposed to woo him! That was how love worked.

So Roman tried to woo his lab partner.

And it went, well, not as poorly as it could have. Logan didn’t do anything extreme, like throw up or declare Roman a fiend. He just--ignored it. He ignored every single flirtatious line Roman threw at him.

At first, Roman could reasonably believe he hadn’t noticed--Logan was a bit naive in social situations, which was incredibly endearing--but he slowly began to doubt that. After he sent Logan flowers and Logan didn’t touch them, Roman gave in. Logan must have noticed. He just didn’t seem to care.

Which didn’t match up with anything. Logan had been interested in him--Roman knew it, and all their friends agreed. So if he was interested, he should be enjoying this!

That was how it worked!

And yes, dragons weren’t real, and yes, lucky fountains didn’t work, but something had to be true. It was called true love for a reason. Roman was supposed to sweep Logan off his feet, kiss him, and like it. That was how the story went.

Yet Logan stubbornly refused to play along.

Roman worked through his entire list of pickup lines. He spent half their study sessions inching his way closer before touching Logan’s hand, and feeling Logan pull away. He bought cookies, was curtly handed back the cookies, and was forced to eat the cookies by himself in his dorm room.

And he’d stop if Logan said no. If Logan clearly said he wasn’t interested--because he could reasonably have changed his mind--or that he didn’t want Roman to do this. But he never said anything. He just acted like it never happened.

Maybe that was a no. Maybe Roman was just not taking the hint. He definitely didn’t want to make his friend uncomfortable, but he couldn’t believe this was it, that he was stuck loveless and embarrassed and barely following along with science class.

He gave himself one more day. One last study session of attempting to drop hints, and if Logan let them fall like lead balloons, he’d cut it out.

“Your shirt looks really cute on you!” Roman said.

Logan hummed and turned a page.

“Oh, that’s how it works?” Roman grinned. “I get it now! You’re so smart.”

“Thank you,” Logan said. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Cute, smart, and humble. Triple threat!”

Logan shrugged a bit and returned to the worksheet.

“Aw, I don’t want this to be over,” Roman said as the sky darkened. “Do you want to meet up again soon?”

“We have class together next week,” Logan pointed out.

“No, like--on our own.” Roman held out a hand. “Like a date.”

Logan looked at his hand, back up, and closed his notes. “I should get going, I think it’s going to rain.”

Roman’s stomach sank as he watched Logan stand and gather his things. Eventually, he put his own books away. The library was quiet as he followed Logan to the door. He couldn’t find the courage to make conversation.

Logan pulled open the door and peered out. “It’s already drizzling.”

“I have an umbrella?” Roman suggested, pulling out his umbrella. “If you don’t have one, I can walk you to where you need to go?”

“Oh!” Logan smiled at him. “Thank you, Roman, I’d appreciate that.”

And see, this was what messed with Roman! Logan didn’t seem bothered by the flirting, as he still treated Roman normally, so was he mad or was he uncomfortable or was he oblivious or was he--

Roman opened the umbrella, held it over Logan’s head, and gestured to the door.

“A rainbow umbrella,” Logan said. “Of course.”

“I’m gay! I have to show it!” Roman winked at Logan. “Now, come on, Specs, where are you headed?”

“My dorm building,” Logan said, as they carefully stepped outside. Roman held the umbrella above both of them, his arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan didn’t seem to mind. “Are you sure the umbrella will fit both of us?”

“It seems to work!” Roman shuffled forward, and Logan followed. “It’s like those three-legged races, we just have to step in unison.”

Logan nodded and watched Roman’s feet, his nose wrinkling adorably, like it always did when he focused. “Step now?”

“Step now!” Roman grinned. “Step, step, step in time, step in time--”

“No Mary Poppins.”

“But Julie Andrews!”

Logan huffed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going to sing it with you, I hope you know that.”

“Good enough for me!” Roman declared. “Step in time, step in time, never need a reason, never need a rhyme.”

The rain was already falling faster. They walked in awkward unison down the sidewalk, past the parking lot, and towards the dorm buildings. They sat like brick lumps on the other side of the quad. All the grass was already muddy, and nobody was around, except for a few freshmen running to the Humanities building with coats over their heads.

“I should have brought my umbrella,” Logan complained as the rain increased. “The water is dripping down my neck.”

“Oh, it is?” Roman shifted his arm. “Does that work better?”

“For me, yes.” Logan looked up at him. “I think the water is now dripping down your neck.”

“I don’t mind,” Roman lied, ignoring the sensation of cold water in his collar.

“Here, let me adjust it.” Logan stopped walking and reached for the umbrella handle. “If we both stand under the dome, we won’t get wet.”

Roman laughed. “Is there an equation for that?”

“I’m hardly going to etch it into the grass, am I?” Logan moved forward and pulled the umbrella off-center. “No, that’s worse. Stay still--”

Roman had no trouble with staying still, because he had just realized he was inches from Logan, one arm around his shoulders. He could lean forward and hug him, or tap his nose, or--kiss him. Yeah. That was what people did when they were close to people they liked.

The rain drummed on the umbrella as Logan adjusted it, fully focused. Kissing in the rain. That was definitely what people did. A romantic gesture.

Roman took a deep breath.

“Logan?” he asked.

Logan’s hands stilled on the umbrella handle. “Yes?”

“I--” Roman laughed a bit. “Your hair is damp.”

“Oh.” Logan batted at it, and only managed to flatten it further out of position. “That’s disappointing.”

“It looks cute,” Roman said.

And Logan flushed, just a bit.

That was enough of a go-ahead.

“You know what people do in the rain,” Roman said. He tried to sound a bit joking, but not too joking, and ended up squarely in awkward.

“I do?”

“Uh.” Roman steeled his nerves. “They kiss. It’s romantic.”

Logan blinked at him. “Oh. How is that relevant--”

Roman made a small, meaningless hand motion.

Logan’s mouth formed a small o.

For a second, it was quiet, the rain drumming on the umbrella.

“I mean,” Roman said, deciding to dig his hole deeper and bury himself, “most people do it in the rain. Like, all wet. There aren’t usually umbrellas involved.”

Logan looked affronted. “I’m not kissing you in the rain! We’ll catch our death!”

“We’ll just get a bit damp.”

“Absolutely not,” Logan said firmly. “I am not going out from under this umbrella, and I am not kissing you in the rain.”

“Okay, fine,” Roman said, cursing every word that left his mouth. “But what’s the verdict on kissing in general?”

Logan blinked again. Roman wondered if he’d attempt to ignore the situation again, or steal his umbrella and run. He hoped not. He liked this umbrella.

“I...” Logan let out a long breath. “I am not kissing you. Rain or otherwise.”

“Oh,” Roman said.

“I’m sorry,” Logan added quickly, and he did look sorry. “I hoped you would leave it alone, but it seems really important to you, and I’m sorry. I’m just not--interested.”

“In...me?” Roman swallowed. He was not going to cry. “You’re not interested in me.”

“No--” Logan started. “I mean, yes, but--” He stopped, looking frustrated. “I’m not interested in that. Kissing. Or rain. Or--romantic things like that.”

Roman’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected that turn of events. “You aren’t?”

Logan shook his head. “I’m aromantic. I’m not interested in a romantic relationship with anyone. Well, actually, some aromantic people do pursue romantic relationships. More accurately, I don’t experience romantic attraction.”

“You can do that?”

Logan raised an eyebrow and gave Roman a look that told him he was on extremely thin ice. “Yes.”

“I mean, that’s really cool!” Roman said quickly. “And makes a lot of sense. I just didn’t realize that was a thing.”

“Yes, it’s a ‘thing,’” Logan said. “You can doubtless find more online.”

“Huh,” Roman said. Things began to make a bit more sense. “Oh, gosh, I’m incredibly sorry for flirting with you! I didn’t realize--”

“It’s fine.” Logan paused and coughed a bit into his hand. “I-didn’t-mind-that-much.”

“What?”

“I--” Logan looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mind. It was...nice.”

“Really?” Roman asked. “But you said you didn’t like romantic stuff--”

“You were only complimenting me!” Logan said. “You said I was--cute. I enjoyed it. I only ignored it because I knew you meant it in a romantic sense, and I didn’t want to lead you on.”

Roman stared at him. Now things made more and less sense. “You didn’t mind it when I called you cute, though?”

Logan stared at his feet. The rain drummed around them.

“You hadn’t heard of aromantic,” Logan finally said, “so I doubt you’ve heard of this, either. But--the word is queerplatonic. And it’s, um--” Logan waved a hand. He was definitely blushing. It was completely adorable. “Even though some aromantic people don’t experience romantic attraction, they still have queerplatonic partners. For me, it’s like--I don’t want to kiss anyone, or do many traditionally romantic things, but--”

Roman nodded, making a mental note to do a lot of research. And also to hug Logan, when they were less wet, because he’d just fully comprehended that Logan had come out. That took bravery! And Roman was a bit honored that Logan trusted him enough to share.

“But I still like people,” Logan said. “In a--non-platonic way. I want to spend time with them, hold hands...” His voice trailed off. “Call them cute,” he finally said, barely loud enough for Roman to hear.

“Oh,” Roman said, again, because he didn’t have anything else to say.

“And I like you.” Logan looked up at him. “I do, Roman, a lot. Just--not in the way you were hoping. I don’t mind kisses on the cheek, but I’m never going to kiss you in the rain, and I would never be a romantic partner.”

The rain was still steady. Roman was pretty sure his arm was outside the umbrella, since it was getting drenched, but he didn’t care.

“So I apologize,” Logan said. “For that, and for all the miscommunication, because I should have told you instead of--letting it happen.”

Letting it happen. Because Logan liked it, he appreciated it, he might have even become flustered--Roman called him cute, and Logan liked it.

And Roman should have been heartbroken, or at least disappointed. His crush didn’t reciprocate his feelings! Roman liked Logan romantically, and Logan didn’t return that. No romantic flowers or lucky fountains or kisses in the rain. Just another thing that real life lacked.

The rain soaked slowly through Roman’s sleeve. Logan was probably right, anyway. Kissing in the rain would be cold and not fun at all. Roman couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to--

Wait.

Was the rain the issue? Or was it something else?

Roman stared at Logan. His lab partner. Logan was cute and adorable and smart and incredibly sweet, and Roman liked him a lot, and Roman wanted to--

Roman wanted to what?

Kiss him on the cheek. Hold his hand. Watch him ramble. Compliment him and see him blush. Maybe spend time together at coffee shops, or get him a present for his birthday, or even live together at some point--be together.

And that was all romantic. Obviously.

Wasn’t it?

Roman mentally ran through all his daydreams about Logan. Lots of hand holding. Leaning his shoulder into Logan’s. Hugging, or cuddling, or dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

Nowhere on that list was a kiss on the lips. Or a romantic date. Spending time together, sure, but it was different, it was--

Oh.

Huh.

“Aromantic,” Roman blurted out. “That was the word, right?”

“Um--” Logan looked a bit surprised. Roman realized he must have been standing there for several minutes, completely silent. “Yes.”

“So it’s people that don’t experience romantic attraction,” Roman continued. “Do--is it possible for them to kind of want romance anyway? Or think they do?”

“I don’t,” Logan said, “if that’s what you’re asking--”

“No, I’m--” Roman blew out a breath. “I’m trying to figure something out.”

Logan watched him carefully, but nodded. “Yes, some people enjoy romantic activities while not experiencing romantic attraction. Or their romantic attraction may be partial or fluctuate--it’s a spectrum--or they could simply believe they need to do traditionally romantic things, because of society’s focus on romantic love.”

Roman nodded very rapidly. "Cool. So cool. Cool-cool-cool.”

“Are you...” Logan looked confused. “Alright?”

“Yes? Maybe?” Roman laughed a bit wildly. “I am really not sure. Can you give me a second?”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Roman took a deep breath. Logan was still watching him, glasses flecked with drops of rain. Logan was a good friend. They’d be friends no matter what, and that wasn’t less than anything. Roman could happily love him as a friend.

Friends didn’t daydream about making each other smile.

Friends didn’t want to kiss each other--on the cheek, on the nose, in rain or not. And--and not on the lips. Not really at all.

Roman knew how love worked. He’d seen the movies. Fall in love, kiss, get married, ride into the sunset. That was how everyone did it. That was what he was supposed to want.

But movies also had dragons and lucky fountains and princes. None of those things were quite the same in real life. In real life, kisses in the rain were just soggy and cold and entirely un-romantic.

In real life, Roman didn’t want to kiss someone in the rain.

Or someone outside of it, either.

True love. Roman always knew what true love looked like. But maybe he didn’t understand love as well as he thought.

Maybe things worked a little bit differently in real life.

And maybe--that was okay.

“Uh,” Roman said eloquently. “You were saying something about--queerplatonic?”

“Yes?” Logan asked. “Why?”

“Uh,” Roman said again. “So, like--partners. Together. But not, like, dating.”

“Yes.” Logan’s expression tightened. “Roman, you don’t have to--if that’s not what you’d like, it wouldn’t work--”

“It is, though.” It felt like a dragon-sized weight had flown off his shoulders. “It is--I don’t think I ever wanted that stuff, everyone just told me I did, and I--I just kinda want to be with you. I don’t know if that makes me aromantic or what, and I can probably figure that part out at some point, but--yeah. I...like calling you cute, because you are. I like studying with you. And I like being with you. Rain or otherwise.”

Logan watched him with wide eyes. “You’re--serious?”

“Yeah!” Roman beamed. “You just, like, made my entire life make sense, which is kind of terrifying but also very cool and everything is different now and I still really like you.”

“Oh,” Logan said, quietly. “Oh,” he said again.

“So, uh--” Roman’s confidence fizzled a bit. “I dunno. But--would you be interested in going out to eat? Or doing something together on our own? Like--a queerplatonic date?”

“Oh,” Logan said a third time. He was blushing violently. “Er--yes, if you’d be amiable to it, I’d enjoy--”

“Yes!” Roman cheered loudly. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “It sounds...nice.”

“It really does, doesn’t it?” Roman smiled at him and adjusted the umbrella. “We should talk about this more, of course, but it’s still raining and you have places to be.”

“Oh! Right!” Logan huffed. “We’ve been standing together in the quad like a pair of fools.”

“A pair of fools basically sums us up,” Roman agreed. “A pair of fools in love,” he added in a sing-song voice.

“Hey,” Logan complained, blushing again.

“So cute,” Roman said. “You adorable nerd, and I can say that to you now, holy Hera--”

“You certainly can,” Logan said, attempting to cover his face. “Congratulations.”

“Aww, no, come on!” Roman gently tugged Logan’s arms away from his face. “There you are!”

Logan wrinkled his nose. And on impulse, Roman leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

Logan’s squeak was the most adorable thing Roman had ever heard. He leaned back into place and gave Logan a second to compose himself.

“You know, I think I was right,” Roman said after Logan finally stopped malfunctioning. “Kissing in the rain is pretty fun after all!”

“Shut up,” Logan said. “And you said most people don’t do it under umbrellas.”

“You said we’d get cold!” Roman smiled at him. “Besides, I think I’m allowed to rewrite the story a bit.”

Logan smiled back. “If you’d like to.”

“I’d definitely like to,” Roman said, pulling Logan closer and holding the umbrella above them. “‘Cause this way, I feel like I’m doing it right.”

Give me a prompt, and I’ll write a short drabble!

#logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #queerplatonic logince #me: okay no more long fics only short and sweet #me: promptly writes a confession fic #anyway welcome back to 'avery writes qprs by projecting their relationship with their partner onto the characters'#like shhh my qpp is lovely and makes for very good inspiration #asks and answers #anon #averywrites #(also yes this is all going super slow i apologize i have to eat now but i will write more prompts soon i promise)

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fillinforlater · 2 years

Note

Ok thanks coz i got a request for Somi . Can you please write for Somi and Male Reader in a sensual massage with lots of oil. Massage turns into a full on smut party for them. Just them having passionate sex if possible please.

Let It All Out

Male Reader x Jeon Somi

Length: 849 words

Tags: dialogue only, oily massage, praise kink, slow sex, mentions of cockwarming, hardworking!Somi, sweethusband!You

TW: QUICKIE; UNEDITED

(A/N: My first attempt at dialogue only. Let's see how this works out xD)

"Hey, babe. I'm home."

"Hi, darling. My God, you sound exhausted! Was work that bad?"

"Yeah... never knew my supervisor could be such a jerk..."

"Come in and take a seat, sweetie. You look so drained and tired--what did she made you do?"

"She thought it was a good idea to, ugh, make us work extra long, even in the morning."

"Is that why you were gone everyday I woke up this week?"

"Y-Yes. I'm sorry, babe, I—"

"Somi, please. Don't apologize. You are always diligent, work super hard and always care about others, so I don't want you to stress. Just come into my arms and relax."

"Thank you, babe. You are so good to me."

"Hm. Do you want to eat something? I made chili and vegetables. We also have some rice or sausages."

"No, I'm good. Later maybe."

"Okay then. Damn, Somi. Your entire body feels so stiff and unrelaxed. How long has this been going?"

"Three weeks, I think."

"Three weeks?! That is unacceptable! I'll treat you royally tonight. Let's get to our special place."

"Oh, baby, you don't have to."

"But I want to. Here, lay down please. I'll give you a massage worthy of your work."

"Thank you baby, but... I want it to be more slippery."

"Uhm, sure. Everything for my lovely wife. I'll be right back."

"I-I can't believe it. Every time I look at you, you are even more beautiful."

"S-Stop staring at me. I-It's making me blush."

"Lay down then. Tell me: where do you need it the most?"

"Let's start with my shoulders. Thank you, baby. You are so ki--oh God, it’s so cold!"

"I-I'm so sorry, darling! My fingers."

"No no, it's all good. Just get your hands in there. Hmm, fuck, that feels amazing! Can you go a little harder and deeper."

"S-Somi, that sounds so dirty."

"I'm talking about your fingers on my shoulders, you jerk. Squeeze them more. Hm, yes."

“Relax, my love. I’ll get all the soreness out of you.”

“Oh, you are so good at this, baby. But you know what would make this even better?”

“I think I know what my wifey wants. The question is just: how much?”

“All of it. I want it on every centimeter of my body. It should run down the massage bench and hit the floor.”

“Your wish is my command. Luckily, I got the bottles right here. Do you mind helping me covering you in this oil?”

“Not at all. Fuck, yes! I love this. Perfect temperature, slippery, soothing, just amazing. Hey, don’t you dare hesitate right now!”

“I’m not hesitating. I-I’m just...”

“Admiring my ass for too long? Don’t worry. Dig your fingers in it as well. Make it wet and oily.”

“It’s insane: whenever I touch it, it feels softer again. Your body is so gorgeous, darling. From your shoulders, back, bottom, thighs to your feet. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“And I am so lucky to have you and your delicate fingers. Fuck, how the hell do you do this? It works like magic.”

“You are too sweet, Somi. I bet the oil helps even more. Damn, I have to clean the floor later it seems...”

“I’ll give you some motivation. Here, massage my tits.”

“I, uh...”

“You are so fucking adorable. Getting flustered just from seeing them up close. Let me tell you something, magic fingers: If you massage them right now, I’ll let you massage my insides as well.”

“I-I’d never say no to that! God, these mounds make me crazy.”

“Ah, yes! Play with them, baby! You are the best, ngh.”

“Somi, your nipples are insanely hard. Are you craving this so much?”

“You have no idea, baby! Please, put it in! I only want you, and you alone!”

“I’ll make you feel even better. Open your legs a little wider. So beautiful! Look at me, darling.”

“I-I’m lookin—ngh, fuck! Holy shit, s-so big! Please, give it all to me.”

“S-Somi, you are too tight. How can I last in this. I’m gonna move quickly, okay?”

“Fuck me, yes! Faster, fuck my stress out, the soreness away! Make me love you more!”

“Why are you so hot Somi? Fuck, your pussy is the best! I never want to pull out again!”

“Th-Then don’t. A-At least for the night. Stay in—fuck—and massage me!”

“Yes! Somi, you squeeze so hard... please, how can I make you cum? I’m so close.”

“K-Kiss me, play with my clit, my tits, rub the oil on my skin. Love me, baby, love me!”

“Ngh! Somi, I love you, fuck!”

“Oh my God, so hot, ah! Pump it in me, fill me!”

“This felt so fucking good. B-But d-did you actually...?”

“Cum? Oh, fuck yeah I did. Thank you, babe. Y-You make feel... special, I guess.”

“My incredibly hot wife being all cute and shy is my favorite.”

“How dare you say that with your dick still in me?! Shut up.”

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“I l-love you, you jerk. My j-jerk.”

“I love you too, Somi.”

#kpop smut #girl group smut #jeon somi smut #somi smut #i.o.i smut #soloist smut #male reader insert #male reader #dialouge only

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teasty · 3 years

Text

hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

Note

Also wait can we have an example of Bakugou’s intense devotion compared to his shy & unused to warmth persona

well since u asked (thank you for asking <33)

most of the time, bakugou doesn't handle directness well. which is funny and ironic because he's the most brazen person you've ever met. aside from the typical gruffness and informal speech, everything bakugou does is so insanely orthodox it's almost foreign to you that he's actually trying to date you.

most modern dating is lost on him. he's too simple minded. i like you. the idea of dating you is nice. it stops there if he can even get to that point (he's dense). bakugou is a good man more than he's a romantic one so when you approach him with love - there's something about it he finds.. super embarassing.

the flirting, the pda, the touching - it takes getting used to. he likes it and eventually learns to initiate. that it's okay to be a little flirty, a little coy, to tease and be teased. but when it comes to someone he's serious about he's relatively stiff and old fashioned in some of the weirdest ways. he's smart, pragmatic, with a hot temper but

with everything he cares for, there is a serious and logistical approach taken.

it's just who he is. you're probably going to be the warmer, more affectionate, more open one in the relationship almost by default. you'd have to be okay with it at least a little to be by his side. there's no mistaking bakugou loves you, he's just a big stupid tsundere who doesn't know how to do anything but angrily make you a valentine and pray you love him back.

he's slow like that, but you love him and he loves you and normally that's all there is to it. bakugou is grounding, but when he learns to be comfortable - he also learns to be affectionate in small, silent ways. only with the trust you won't make fun of him.

so most of his affection gestures are met with a little :)! reaction from you. the growth of the guy who used get clammy trying to hold your hand in public, you know? a guy who's only a little less stiff in private than he is in public.

but sometimes.

sometimes bakugo does things that are, beyond reasonable doubt - devoting and adoring. it's very rare. once in a while. and it's not one of those little indulgences where you convince him to eat icecream with you in the cold or somehting

it's just... plainly devotion. so heartfelt because it's from bakugou. and it's always more public than you expect. like when they call on you two at a hero gala for a public dance - for charity and you're sure bakugou is gonna blow up and say no. preparing an apology for him in your head.

but then he does say yes. and he takes you center stage and there's really something unreadable on his face - tinged pink but looking at you. clearing his throat and giving you this wicked but genuine smirk.

"follow my lead, sweeetheart,"

and it's so odd. it's nice but you're so in awe of everything you aren't sure you understand what's happening. but bakugou is silent, with a hand on your lower back, the other on your waist - and his eyes staring so directly into yours and no one elses. this is, without doubt, a declaration of love. in front of a crowd, a big one because you can hear friendly voices cheer for you.

but right now, right then - bakugou is staring straight at you. the two of you move in complete and utter silence and so intensely you understand his gesturing under the guise of gesturing. and only then do you realize how terribly, deeply, devotedly he loves you. what walls he's climbed in his heart to embrace you just like that.

#return to sender #katsuki <3 #writing tag #im so horribly in love with him he consumes me in and out

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jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya

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symphonicmetal101 · 3 years

Text

Over-Tired OM Boys HCs

Here's the initial thing that got me started thinkin bout the boys, but here ya go-

Lucifer

- this man, once he hits overtired, is extremely gullible, which is why he locks himself in his office until hes done what needs to be done

- also cannot keep a train of thought for more than 20 seconds and it drives him nuts

- and then he loses his focus even more because he's upset

- you tried knocking on the door once, and told him when you closed your eyes, you couldnt see and needed to go to the doctor

- man went from frustrated to concerned in a heartbeat, only after opening the door realizing how foolish he had just come across

- but now the door was open and you had access to him, and reluctantly he let you drag him to bed

- Will deny it ever happened, and if you bring it up, expect a punishment.

- Though he is grateful you made him rest so he would not become the laughingstock of his brothers

Mammon

- over tired bby will ramble until he forgot what he was talking about and space out for a solid ten seconds before snapping back

- it doesnt matter if you're listening intently or only half listening, he makes no sense what so ever.

- If you can record him without him noticing you (which is easy to do in this state) and play it back once he's rested he's either facepalming and blushy for the nonsense he spewed or he managed to pick out what he may have been trying to say and gets super excited, going off on another more understandable tangent.

- Gaming is a priority

Levi

- Sleeping is not

- Levi usually ends up just tired, not wired but dear lord when he does-

- All that energy and passion he pours into the way he speaks about anime and manga?

- Its physical now...oh and hes slightly more extroverted

- Though its a rare sight, over tired Levi works out and rambles about whatever it was that made him stay up that long, and hes doing it all in your room

Satan

- Over tired Satan is a rare sight, though it happens often, as he holes up in his room

- He gets an impulse to clean, and will tidy and clean and organize his books, though it never lasts

- and theres no escape, he will start crying if he feels you arent paying attention or if you're about to leave

- Depending on who you are, he either becomes 10000000% testier, or hes a giggly mess, there is no in between

Asmo

- Finds everything funny, but will get pouty if it came from someone he doesnt really like

- Over tired Asmo is rare, likely the rarest of all the boys to see, save for Barbatos

- but he is a chaotic little fucker

- dear god

- He will raid the fridge and pantry worse than Beel, specifically when hes on a diet-

- Then MC you're either in for one hell of a story from Asmo, most of them his not-so-proud drunk moments that he never talks about for that reason but he cant stop himself-

-his laugh sounds even more high pitched than normal, and a little maniacal, and he finds everything he says hilarious

- you will go on an adventure probably

Beel

- spaces out randomly, and also cries easily, dont point this put to him and say yes to his adventures, he'll change his mind a thousand times on the way- just go with it

- overtired Beel happens quite a bit, usually after the victory of a game and the adrenaline starts to wear off- and then he still has stuff to do

- but instead of "oh" and maybe a small laugh when he realizes what happened its more ".....oh" and then he looks like he's having an existential crisis

- you will have to physically lead him to bed after that, he's too busy thinking and slowly eating whatever is in his hand

- he snacks to keep himself awake, and poor himbo man is even more gullible than usual

- will want to cuddle, but wont ask when hes like this

Belphie

- out like a bulb immediately

- The Avatar of Sloth? Over tired? yes it happens unfortunately-

- He gets even grumpier than usual because he can’t sleep

- Then at night its just restless tossing and turning

- yes even the seemingly flawless butler gets overtired, but opposite of Asmo, he is far better at concealing it

- Usually happens when he intentionally sleeps through important meetings and days for Lucifer back to back to back

- It’s another excuse to hold you though, so he might make himself over tired more often

Barbatos

- You will see him stifle yawns

- And when given instructions, his eyes widen slightly with concentration as he whispers the instructions over and over under his breath so nobody can hear, but its clear his lips are moving

- he cannot be bribed

- he can be intimidated though, and how you ask?

- “threaten” to go tell Beel or Dia because you know full well if they were asked, they would carry Barb back to his quarters if you can’t do so on your own-

- no he will not sleep

- Usually that’s enough to convince him, but you have to stay near to make sure he doesn’t leave until he’s well-rested, otherwise he’ll leave as soon as possible and try to get back to work

- buuuut if you’re “on guard” or in bed with him- well he might have a few extra minutes or hours to spend with you

Diavolo

- overtired Diavolo is rather rare, as Barbatos is very strict with the prince's schedule

- Still though if Diavolo truly wants to keep going...all Barb can do is prepare for the future

- Which uh...just means being able to drag the prince to his quarters

- If you thought he was lively before, being overtired is kinda like giving caffiene to a squirrel for him

- Until he suddenly crashes....which, depending on how you like his company, can be unfortunate as his kick can last for hours

Simeon

- Simeon goes into zombie mode when he's overtired

- He hates to admit it, but it tales every oumce of strength to not fall asleep in the middle of classes

- Not that Luke would let him

- He's a little dazy, a little slow, but even just a power nap gets the angel going again

Luke

- Babie boy, don't stay up with the big kids-

- an overtired ten year old follows a certain progression

- grumpy, denial in need of sleep, chatterbox, chatterbox, chatterbox, chatt- oh he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence

- will not acknowledge anything in the morning, even as he walks out of his bedroom instead of the random place he slept, instead carrying on the conversation he left half finished the night before

Solomon

- hah

- he has spells

- who needs sleep?

- bastard also pushes himself too far, but disguises it with more ease than anyone else, at least until its just the two of you

- He tends to run his hand through his hair more often, fidgets more

- hes a little jumpy too, so continue with caution if you dont want to be turned into a frog-

Anyways, I know its been a hot minute since I posted anything really uh...substantial? I guess this will have to do?? I'm going to be travelling for a bit, so I apologize for slow updates, also dont have the patience to make a queue

Thank y'all for supporting me anyways, it means a lot!! Keep an eye out for the next OC Hunger Games~

Love ya!!

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #v talks #obey me! shall we date?#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me scenarios #obey me thoughts

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tsukishimas-shortcake · 3 years

Text

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

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adorerdraco · 4 years

Text

I’m Here ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: Hi, so I’m not sure if you’re taking these kinds of fics for Draco, but I’ve been feeling really down lately, and I was wondering if you could write a one shot or a scenario where the reader has been having a really bad day/week and Draco comforts them? And maybe Draco lays the reader on his chest and he hums a small tune to make the reader feel better? You can ignore this if it’s an issue, but I’d really appreciate it. I love all of your fics btw! They make me really happy <3

Warnings: none bc mostly fluff, some tears, super soft!draco

Words: 1.9K

A/N: i saw this and had to do it effective immediately bc i am feeling the exact same wayyy so this was really nice to think about ;( thank you so much for requesting this and for reading my stuff and i’m so glad i can help in a way <3 i’m sending you nothing but peace, love, and light !!! but i really hope this is gooood <3 do not own gif

Life was punishing you, you thought. It had to be. Because there was no way how in the span of a week everything in your day-to-day life had gone from okay to borderline catastrophic. It was as if every situation you were in was taking its form in the worst case possible scenario and all you could do was watch hopelessly as things continuously got worse sprinkled with small misfortunes in between.

It started on a regular Monday morning, sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall with blissful ignorance. Halfway through eating your toast, your owl had come in through the open large glass windows and dropped a letter onto your plate from home that left you some very unfortunate news and had set forth a ripple effect that began making everything else go downhill as your days progressed. By the end of the school week, you had managed to blow up a potion, lose house points because of said potion when it splashed onto some people and had some physically altering effects, tripped over your footing and fell in the middle of a crowded corridor, failed a surprise quiz, forgot to turn in an essay, got into an argument with a friend, accidentally slept in and missed a morning class, and took a trip to the hospital wing for a migraine that didn’t want to leave you alone. You could’ve sworn you had somehow been thrown into purgatory, or limbo, or something outer-worldly.

“Are you alright?” Draco had asked you right after breakfast that Monday morning as he was walking you to your first class. “What was in the letter your owl gave you? You look worried.”

“It was nothing,” you dismissed quickly, trying to put on a half-hearted smile while you spoke to make it more convincing. “I’m fine, just tired.”

It was the beginning of the week, and he did keep you up late the night before when you were sneaking around together, so he just shook his head up and down and took your excuse even though he felt like there was more to it than you were letting on. But as the days went on, he was becoming more observant of the way you were acting and even looking. He didn’t like that every morning he saw the shadows under your eyes get deeper and darker, and he didn’t like how you would close your eyes in pain when you would groan about your headache. He also didn’t like the way he hadn’t seen you truly smile or laugh all week even when he tried countless times to amuse you or cheer you up. But what he didn’t like most of all was that he felt like there was nothing he could do.

On Wednesday afternoon, he tried asking you again. You were sitting in the Quad with him on a bench and he was telling you a story from earlier in the day about how he had ‘accidentally’ tripped this Gryffindor boy and got Snape to take away house points from him that he thought for sure would you make laugh or perhaps give him a disapproving redirection, but when he glanced up to see your reaction, he noticed you weren’t even listening, to begin with. You had been staring down at your shoes and the way they lined up against the cracks in the pavement, kicking around some gravel as your mind was running a million thoughts per second.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, e/c eyes widened slightly from being ripped away from your thoughts suddenly. “You know if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

“I know,” you nodded warmly. “I’m okay, Dray. I’m honestly just tired.”

And you were telling the truth, in a sense. You really were tired; physically, mentally, emotionally.

He frowned, dissatisfied with your answer. “Right, well if anything at all comes up, I’m here.”

From then on, Draco took it upon himself to try and increase his affections and compliments. He would hug you a little tighter, kiss you a little longer, whisper sweet little nothings into your ear before he left you for class. You felt a little bad lying to him, withholding the truth from him, and you saw the concern in his light gray’s when you’d meet him in the mornings and for the rest of the day, but it only made you feel a tad bit worse. You were starting to feel guilty for the way he was worrying, feeling like you were dragging him down into the dumps with you and raining on his usual carefree parades.

On Friday morning, you didn’t meet him for breakfast and you were out of the Great Hall faster than he could catch you. He felt like a stalker when he walked by your class, peeking his head in to see if you were there and well. He spotted you sitting at your desk, hunched over your unopened books with a grimace on your face and your head in your hands. He wanted to go in and whisk you away to somewhere far and quiet, but the Professor had caught him by the door and sent him on his way before he could even think of doing anything of the sort.

You felt the day had gone by extremely slow, relative to how the week was moving and also impossibly dismal. You were counting down the minutes until the end of the school day, ready to run to your dorm right after your last class and bury yourself deep into your duvet and pillows for the rest of the weekend.

Head still pounding, you trudged over to your final class, stopping outside the doors when you saw a small group of your housemates standing around with unnerved expressions as they passed each other papers and spoke in hushed tensed tones.

“I studied all night but my friend took the test earlier and she told me during lunch that it had stuff on it that wasn’t even in the reading!” You heard one exclaim in distress.

“We have a test?” You accidentally said aloud and a pair of eyes turned to look at you confusingly.

“Yeah? Professor’s been telling us all week.”

A scoff of disbelief escaped your lips, an overwhelming sense of defeat washing over you as you turned briskly on your heel and in the opposite direction of your classroom. Tears started pricking at your eyes, you felt the stinging of them wanting to be released but you refused to let them all out in the open and especially in front of people who were still taking their time to head to their classes.

You were making a beeline towards your common room, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision that was quickly pooling with unshed tears while trying to steady your breathing in another failed attempt to calm yourself. You were nearly there, you could tell by the paintings and doors that you passed by and the black stain splattered on the floor you saw every day on your way to the dorms from someone’s dropped ink bottle that Filch hasn’t been able to get rid of.

Almost there, you kept repeatedly reminding yourself.

All hope of solace was gone when you didn’t notice the body you had unknowingly crashed into. All you felt were strong hands around your biceps, holding you in place from toppling backward and the very familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you in class?” You looked up at the platinum blond sadly, his worried eyes searching yours with such care that it pushed you over the edge.

You didn’t answer him and instead wrapped your arms tightly around Draco’s middle, burying your face deep into his robes and letting out quiet and frail weeps that broke his heart. He held you tightly, pressing kisses to the top of your head and muttering soft “I’m here’s” into your hair. You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes, letting your tears freely fall into his vest with a sense of relief that only he was able to give you at this point in time.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” you choked out when you pulled away from him, desperately wiping away at your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quickly. He brought his hand up to your face, his thumb swiping delicately over a stray tear that was sitting on your jaw while you closed your eyes in comfort. “Do you want to go back to my room? I can set you up really nicely and we can talk if you’d like?”

“Yes please, I’d like that a lot.”

Draco interlocked your fingers with his, bringing the pair up to his lips with a warm kiss on the back of your hand before walking the two of you over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. It was empty when you walked in, not a soul in sight since everyone was still in class and it made it much easier for him to sneak you into his singular Prefect room you were now extremely grateful he had. He watched contently when you shed off your robes and kicked off your shoes and immediately slipped into one of his dark green jumpers that fit you big.

You were perched on the edge of his bed, his scent from his sweater engulfing you and doing a much better job of calming you down than you wanted to admit. He followed in your footsteps and changed into something comfier and when he finally sat beside you with his hand falling over yours as an encouragement to talk - you did. You vented to him all about the letter from home, the migraine, your classes, the argument between you and your friend, and everything else that came to mind.

“And I feel bad for ignoring you and not telling you all this before but I didn’t want to burden you,” you finished with sniffles, gazing up at him with a gloomy expression.

“Y/N, I love you, and nothing you say to me is a burden,” he frowned slightly, “when I tell you I’m here, I mean it, for anything. You’re so important to me and it kills me to see you upset.”

In a careful movement, he had scooted towards you and affectionately cupped your face before placing a loving kiss on your forehead and murmured to you, “don’t ever hesitate to come to me.”

You let him pull you under his covers, draping his large duvet over your entangled bodies with your head resting right above his chest, the steady beatings of his heart instantly sending you into a much-needed peace. His chin was rested right atop your head and you felt his fingers run up and down your arm soothingly while he thought.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” He asked quietly.

“Can you help me fall asleep?” you muttered, closing your eyes gently when his hand smoothed over the back of your hair. You felt him nod against your head and after a small moment silence, you heard him begin to hum the faint tune of your favorite song.

You lied there in bliss, enjoying the way his chest was vibrating against your ear and the way his fingers were playing with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around his fingers and then moving upwards to massage your scalp. And for a minute, everything was finally okay again as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a full heart and with your love calmly lulling you away with a soft and now distant humming.

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