#( I don't want to talk about it but I feel hurt )

[barnacles34]

My Greatest Joy

IVE Yujin x Male Reader

16k words

'A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.' — The Year of Magical Thinking

18+ smut

The Birth Crisis. The Great Vanishing. The Specter of Demographic Collapse. The media couldn’t decide on a name, only that it was happening. Some said Korea would be empty in a century. Others, ten years. Twenty-five, if they were feeling generous. A hysterical pendulum swing between denial and terror, between think-tank white papers and government campaigns urging citizens to bureaucratize what was once spontaneous: love, sex, reproduction.

But in Dunsan-dong, no one talked about it. Not really. Not in any meaningful way. The village shrank in slow motion. Affairs stopped happening—nobody had the energy, or the audience. The local divorce lawyer quietly removed ‘Infidelity’ from his services, then shut down altogether. Playgrounds grew ghostly. The corner food stands, once territorial battlegrounds for unruly teenagers, went bankrupt one by one. ‘Kids these days grow up too fast,’ one ajumma said, as if that were the whole explanation.

And yet, in all this entropy, two were born. A statistical error. A miracle.

Miracle is not hyperbole. In two decades, the birth count had been three. The bureaucratic failure of Love—yes, Love, capital L, the thing that was supposed to be instinctual, inevitable, the thing people built whole religions and K-dramas around—had finally completed its slow bureaucratic death. Love was no longer a force. Love was paperwork.

Except for two people.

For them, Love was everything.

—

'One move and you'll split open like a badly wrapped present.' ‘Is that your professional opinion?' 'That's my twenty years of keeping-you-alive opinion.' She's biting her lower lip, the way she always does when she's trying not to smile at your stupidity. 'And I really don't want to explain to some emergency room doctor why I have a boy bleeding out in my room at 2 AM.'

The gash should hurt more. Six inches of red spite across your forearm, but all you can focus on is how Yujin's looking at it—like she's found something breakable in a world made of steel.

'I really fucked up.' 'Did you?' Her touch finds your good arm, barely there. 'Or did you do exactly what you meant to?'

The lamp makes everything soft. She's wearing your t-shirt—the one you left here that summer when the AC broke. Cotton worn thin enough to catch shadowy curves underneath. Silk pajama bottoms that whisper secrets when she moves. You try not to notice. You notice everything.

'This might need stitches.' 'Are you volunteering?' 'Shut up and hold still.' But there's laughter in her voice, the kind that makes your chest tight. 'Some of us are trying to work miracles here.'

The first-aid kit looks wrong in her small hands. Those hands that used to patch up your scraped knees, that still know exactly where you're breakable.

'Remember that time in third grade?' Her fingers ghost over your skin. 'When you tried to convince me you could fly?' 'I could've.' 'You broke your arm.' 'Minor setback.' She laughs, soft and close. 'Nothing's changed, has it?'

Everything's changed. The way moonlight catches in her hair now, how her perfume makes your head swim, the careful distance she keeps even when she's touching you. But you say, 'Not the important things.'

Her breath hits your arm in warm little puffs as she works. Clean movements. No hesitation. Like she's mapping something she never forgot.

'Almost done.' Her thumb traces the edge of the bandage. 'Next time try not to bleed on my carpet?' 'Yujin-ah.' 'Mm?' 'Thank you.'

She looks up. Those eyes crack something in your chest. Then she smiles and whatever was cracked turns to stardust.

'So how'd it happen? And don't say you just slipped, because I know all your clumsy excuses by heart.' 'Just slipped.' 'Onto what? Did some wandering samurai leave their sword in Dunsan-dong?' 'You never know what you'll find these days.' 'Hey.' Her voice goes quiet, the way it used to when she'd tell you secrets at midnight. 'Tell me? I promise to not scold you…much.'

Face to face now. The universe narrows to this: her eyes on yours, her hands still on your skin.

'Okay.' You gesture with your good arm. 'Window.' 'What did you—' Her voice catches. 'If you've done something wild—'

Then you smile.

You watch her shoulders drop. It's a small thing, being able to do this—turn her static to quiet. Not exactly Superman stuff, but it's the only superpower you'd keep if they were dealing them out.

She knows. You can see it in how she moves—little half-dance steps to the window, taking your words as is—hopefully, something good. The curtain whispers. You don't watch. Can't. Your skin's electric with her lingering smell—something you'd bottle if you could, except that'd ruin it, the particular way her skin holds the perfume.

The silence stretches until you think you might snap. Then—

'What am I supposed to be looking at? Because all I see is Mrs. Kim's cat trying to fight a streetlight again, and—' She stops. 'What's it say?'

'Let me make sure I'm reading this right.' She's still facing the window, but you can hear the smile breaking through, eyes transforming into pure joy. 'Because either someone's confessing to me via Christmas lights at 2 AM, or the neighborhood's having a very very specific power outage.'

'These past years—' 'Wait.' She spins around, eyes catching lamplight. 'Did you seriously string up every Christmas light in Dunsan-dong just to—' She takes three quick steps toward you, stops. 'The lights outside the convenience store. The ones from the coffee shop. Even the ones from—' Her eyes go wide. 'You didn't.'

'Old Mr. Park drives a hard bargain.' 'His birthday lights? The ones he's kept since forever?' 'To be fair, they were already purple. Worked with the aesthetic.' 'And what exactly did you promise him?' 'Just my eternal servitude. And maybe repainting his fence.' 'The whole fence?'

'Both sides.'

She shakes her head, but her smile could light up the whole neighborhood. 'You're insane. Completely insane. Do you know how many people I had to convince about your mental well-being?'

'Had to?'

'Have to. Present tense.' She's between your knees now, playing with your shirt hem like it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 'Though I guess now I'll have to change my story to "dating a lunatic who steals Christmas lights and nearly loses an arm trying to spell out love confessions."'

Your heart stumbles. 'Dating?'

'Well,' her borrowed shirt slips further, showing more shoulder. 'I mean, you did just write my name in stars.'

'They're Christmas lights.'

'Same difference.' Her fingers trail up your arm, careful of the bandage. 'Very romantic Christmas lights.'

'Does that mean—'

'It means anyone crazy enough to risk tetanus and Mr. Park's wrath deserves at least dinner.' A pause, then softer: 'Maybe breakfast too, if they play their cards right.'

'Just breakfast?'

'Don't push your luck.' But she's smiling that smile—the one that's always been just for you.

'Yujin-ah.'

'Mm?'

'All these years, did you ever—'

'Every day.' She doesn't let you finish. Doesn't need to. 'Every single day.'

'Can I—'

Her mouth finds yours: the way her lips part like flower petals at dawn, soft and inevitable. Her breath mingles with yours. There's the perfect arch of her spine, the way her breasts press warm against your chest through thin cotton, how her hips seek yours with an instinct older than thought. The taste of her, sweet milk tea and something darker, something that makes your blood sing. Her hands flutter at your neck, startled, before finding home in your hair, and there's that smell of her—woody, floral, fruity—that makes you dizzy, makes you forget where you end and she begins. Delicate sounds escape her, primal and pure, vibrating through both your bodies like a struck chord. Then she's pulling back, but her body stays honest—trembling, burning: alive with new knowledge.

'Sorry,' she whispers. 'Got carried away. We should probably wait until your wound is healed.' Her smile is so reassuring, masking the softest disappointment that her eyes couldn't hide. 

But she was in luck.

Your fingers circle her wrist mid-fret, right as she's about to check your bandage for the seventh time. Her skin is cool against yours, pulse like a hummingbird.

'Stop fretting.'

'I'm not fretting.' But she's barely holding back a smile, eyes bright with something more than just lamplight. 'I'm calculating how many years Mr. Park's going to make you repaint his fence.'

'Already negotiated.' You tug her closer, feeling the way she pretends to resist. 'Two coats, both sides, and my firstborn child.'

'Bold of you to negotiate with children that don't exist.' She settles between your knees anyway, like she's found her way home.

'Yet.'

Her borrowed shirt—your shirt—slips further off one shoulder. 'You're impossible.'

'Impossible enough to steal every Christmas light in Dunsan-dong.'

'Borrow,' she corrects, fingers playing with your collar. 'We're calling it borrowing. Sounds less felonious.'

'Look who's being responsible.'

'Someone has to be.' But she's leaning closer, breath warm against your mouth. 'Since you've apparently lost your mind.'

'Lost it years ago.' Your thumb traces her lower lip. 'Right around the time you started wearing my clothes.'

She makes this sound—half laugh, half something else entirely. 'Smooth talker.'

'Only for you.'

Her hands find your chest, but there's no real resistance in it. 'If you tear those stitches—'

The kiss swallows her warning. This one's different—deeper, like you're trying to taste every year you've waited. She makes a sound that turns your blood to starlight, fingers curling into your shirt like she's afraid you'll disappear.

'That's cheating,' she whispers when you break apart.

'Is it working?'

The lamp catches gold in her eyes. 'Always will.'

Your hand finds skin at the small of her back. She arches like a cat stretching into sunlight.

'You're staring.'

'Can't help it.'

'Try.'

'Make me.'

She kisses you this time—soft, sweet, dangerous. When she pulls back, her smile could outshine every stolen light in the neighborhood.

'We should probably—' she starts.

'Probably.'

Her fingers find the hem of her shirt. Your shirt. Details.

What follows is an exercise in creative problem-solving. One functional arm between you, too much cotton, not enough coordination. Her hair gets caught. You both laugh. The shirt wins the first round.

'Left,' she instructs.

'My left or your left?'

'Wait—here… I got it.'

The second attempt goes better. The shirt surrenders its hold, and suddenly there's just Yujin—all golden skin and starlight. Her bra's simple beige cotton, but the way it holds her could make Michaelangelo weep.

'You're staring again.'

'Still can't help it.'

She kisses you quiet, hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer. Everything soft and warm and perfect.

'Can I—' your fingers find her back, trace lace.

'Yes.' Another kiss. 'Please.'

The bra falls away like a secret finally told. You forget how words work.

The air hums with the weight of revelation—her body an altar, every contour a psalm. Your breath tangles as you drink her in: the bronze aureoles, the arch of her ribs like a vaulted sanctuary, the pulse fluttering at her throat like a caged sparrow. She shivers beneath your gaze: the raw vulnerability of a soul laid bare.

Your palms ascend her sides, mapping the smoothness, the glory of it all—each sigh, each hitch of muscle, a dialect you ache to memorize. She tips her head back as your thumbs brush the underswell of her breasts, a whimper dissolving. ‘More,’ she murmurs, not a demand but a prayer, a beg; her fingers knotting in your hair as if you might slip away like smoke.

You oblige, slow as honey, mouth tracing the salt-sweet hollow of her collarbone. Her skin blooms beneath your lips—petal-soft, fever-warm—as you chart a path lower, lower, until her nipple grazes your tongue. She gasps, back arching. Her hands clutch at you, anchor and plea, as you worship her with unhurried devotion, savoring each tremor, each stuttered breath.

When her legs part—a silent invitation—it’s your turn to shudder. The heat of her radiates through the last fragile barrier, a molten promise. You press closer, the rigid heat of your unclothed shaft straining against her thigh, a visceral counterpoint to her softness. She rolls her hips, deliberate, and you groan as her warmth grinds against you, friction sparking like flint.

You linger there, foreheads pressed, breaths mingling, the world narrowed to the space between heartbeats. Her eyes lock with yours, galaxies swirling in their depths. ‘I want to feel you,’ she whispers, voice trembling. ‘All of you.’

You move as tides do: inevitable, reverent. Her thighs cradle your hips as you guide yourself to her entrance, the head of your shaft slick with Her. The first breach is a shared gasp—a threshold crossed in tandem. She tightens around you, velvet heat clenching like a fist around your length, and you still, trembling, sweat-slicked and spellbound. Her nails score your shoulders, anchoring you to the agony of slowness.

‘Slowly,’ she breathes, and you obey, each fractional advance a pilgrimage. Her fingers trace your jaw, your lips, as if memorizing the shape of this moment. When you’re sheathed fully, time suspends. Her lashes flutter closed, a tear escaping as she whispers, 'Yes.'

You move in thrusts. Her sighs crest into whimpers, into chants of your name, each syllable a spark in the gathering storm. Her breasts sway with the rhythm, nipples brushing your chest, while your hands grip the flare of her hips, guiding her into the tide. Around you, the room dissolves: there is only her skin, her scent, the liquid pull of her around your shaft—a mosaic of need and nectar, each fragment a revelation.

You kiss her deeply, tasting the salt of her surrender, as the world fractures, reforms, and fractures again.

—

Sheets tangled like an afterthought. A leg hooked over yours, pinning you in place with the quiet authority of someone who has long since decided where they belong. The desk fan ticks through its slow, mechanical arc, stirring the air, stirring her hair, making it brush your chin in the softest, smallest way possible.

She shifts, just enough for her ribs to press against yours. You feel her breathing. Deep. Slow. Listening.

‘I have an audition next week,’ she says, voice barely above a whisper.

‘For what?’

‘Community theater. Spring show.’ A pause. Then, quietly, ‘It’s dumb.’

‘You don’t do dumb things.’

She laughs. A real one. The kind that scrunches her nose a little, that makes her shoulders shake just enough to jostle you.

‘Except this,’ she murmurs. Her fingers trace slow circles on your chest.

‘This was a strategic decision.’

‘Oh?’

‘Carefully calculated.’

She laughs again, softer this time. Her breath is warm where it spills against your collarbone. You could live here. Right here, in the space between her voice and her warmth and the way her hair tickles your skin.

She props herself up on one elbow, looking down at you. The Christmas lights outside flicker purples and blues across her face, her skin, making her look like something caught between a dream and waking. Her smile is quiet. Not big, not blinding. Just there. Something she’s forgotten to hide.

‘Hey,’ she says.

‘Hey.’

Her fingers tap lightly against your chest. ‘Remember when you proposed to me behind the school?’

‘Which time.’

She grins. ‘The time I lost the play to Wonyoung and cried so hard I got a nosebleed.’

‘Ah. I told you it didn’t matter because you’d always be the lead in my story.’

She groans, dropping her forehead to your shoulder. ‘You were so corny.’

‘Still am.’

‘Yeah,’ she murmurs. ‘You are.’

You feel her smile against your skin.

The fan clicks on again, stirring the night, the space between you. The crickets outside hum in harmony with the distant sound of a train—faint, but there. The whole world is slowing down. Breathing with you.

She shifts again, nestles closer. Her lips brush your skin—your collarbone, then just above your heart.

‘I can hear you thinking,’ you say.

She sighs, slow and steady. ‘Just… happy.’

You don’t say anything. Just hold her tighter. Like keeping her close might keep the moment from slipping away.

She pulls back, just far enough to see you, really see you. Her hair is a mess. Her lips are still swollen. The Christmas lights turn her eyes into something impossible, something endless.

‘I love you, you know,’ she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like she’s never known anything else.

You smile. ‘I know.’

She kisses you. Slow, deep, soft. Like a secret. Like an answer.

The fan ticks. The lights flicker. The night stretches on.

—

It was supposed to be small. A local theater gig, a footnote in her life story. Something that kept her busy while she figured out the rest. That was the plan.

Then a casting director walked into the wrong show on the right night. A single scene, a single line delivered with the kind of weight that makes people stop chewing their popcorn. Two weeks later, she’s everywhere.

At first, it’s just murmurs. Articles in the culture section. Buzzwords like promising, raw talent, the next big thing. Then the billboards go up. Magazines with her face—half-laughing, half-serious, eyes catching the camera like they know something you don’t. The first time you see one, it’s plastered on the side of a bus stop you used to share, back when the only lines she rehearsed were whispered promises and badly sung pop songs.

Now she’s too big for Dunsan-dong.

Not just big. Seismic.

Korea’s sweetheart, the industry's new obsession. Agencies circle like sharks with briefcases, smiling through teeth polished for negotiation. They offer her everything—money, sponsorships, a life where she doesn’t have to wait for the subway or count change at convenience stores. And she takes it, not because she’s greedy, but because this is what she was always meant to be.

You watch it happen the way people watch slow-motion car crashes. Helpless. Horrified. A little bit in awe.

Because here’s the thing they never warn you about when you love someone who's destined for greatness: fame isn’t a door. It’s a chasm. You can’t walk through it holding hands.

At first, you convince yourself nothing’s changed. You still talk, still text. But her replies come slower, her voice more rehearsed. The calls happen between set breaks, her voice filtered through exhaustion and bad reception.

Then the interviews start. The talk shows. The press tours.

She gets good at the answers, the little smiles, the artful dodges. The first time someone asks if she’s dating anyone, she hesitates. Just for a second. Just long enough for the internet to notice.

You tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything. That she’s protecting you. That this is just part of the machine.

But a few weeks later, you see a headline:

‘The Nation’s New Star: Who is Yujin’s Mystery First Love?’

And for the first time, it hits you—really hits you—how easy it is to be rewritten.

The tabloids build their own history, constructing boyfriends from old classmates, exes from co-stars. They don’t name you. They don’t have to. Because in the world they’ve built, you don’t exist.

And maybe, you start to think, maybe you never did.

Maybe love isn’t enough when it’s up against the weight of the world. Maybe you were naive to think you could be something more than a footnote in her legend.

Maybe you were never really two. Maybe it was always just her.

Moving forward. Rising higher.

And you—

You’re just the idiot standing still, watching her disappear into the stars.

—

Yujin called you up.

The night was cutting: cold, unrelenting Snow blew sideways, a thousand tiny knives catching on your exposed skin, but you sat there anyway—legs crossed, hands in your lap, all polite.

The bench was old, paint curling at the edges, the kind of place people only sat when they had no better options. You smiled at the irony.

You’d met Yujin in worse places. Loved her in worse places.

And maybe, just maybe, lost her in worse places too.

Then she emerged from the fog, a silhouette first, then a shape, then a person.

Five benches away. Maybe six. Distance had become an abstract concept, like time, like certainty, like the idea that love—real love—was enough to hold the weight of the whole goddamn world.

She didn’t sit. Didn’t hesitate.

‘Let’s break up.’

The words didn’t belong to the girl who used to steal fries from your plate, who used to call you at 2 AM because she saw a cat in the street and thought you needed to know. They belonged to someone else. Someone who had spent hours, maybe days, rehearsing.

Her voice was final. Her eyes were final. Everything about her, from the way she stood to the way the wind refused to touch her, was final.

You should’ve said something.

Anything.

But the air left your lungs in one sharp exhale, stolen by the weight of three syllables arranged in an execution sentence.

The snow caught in her hair, in her lashes, in the hollow curve of her collarbone, and she looked—god, she looked—like something from a dream you had once, the kind you woke from gasping, reaching for someone who wasn’t there.

And then she wasn’t.

She turned. Walked away. Snow swallowed her whole.

You could’ve chased her. Could’ve fallen to your knees, begged, pleaded, made a scene, made a fool of yourself. Could’ve grabbed her wrist, reminded her that you were not just some chapter to be closed. Could’ve thrown every memory, every quiet moment, every touch, every whispered I love you in her face like proof of something sacred.

But you didn’t.

Because Yujin never spoke like this. Not unless she meant it.

And that’s what gutted you most.

You sat there long after she was gone, staring at the place she used to be, like if you looked hard enough, you could rewind time, unbreak whatever fragile thing had finally snapped between you.

The sky stretched empty above you, stars sharp against the ink. You tried counting them. Tried counting anything to stop counting the ways you’d just lost her.

One star. Two. One mistake. Two. Three years. Four. Five benches away.

Maybe six. The wind howled, and you let it.

—

The beer’s flat, but that’s not why it tastes bad.

You lean against the bar, watching foam dissolve into something thin and lifeless, the way good things always do. Three years distilled into neon lights and a tab you don’t remember opening.

She’s 24 now. You keep count because she was impossible to avoid—billboards, subway ads, every damn screen flashing her face like she owns the world. And maybe she does. The brightest star, the nation’s darling, the girl who left and became.

You should be proud. You tell yourself you are.

But pride doesn’t feel like this. Doesn’t sit heavy in your ribs like grief. Doesn’t twist like a blade when you flip through channels and land on her.

The latest drama. Friends-to-lovers, some rom-com fluff. A special kind of hell, watching her fall for someone else, even if it’s scripted.

And the kiss—god, the kiss.

Over and over. Different angles, different takes. The guy has trepid shoulders and a weaker mouth. You want to reach through the screen, grab him by his stupid collar, shake him until he understands: You don’t get to kiss Yujin like that unless you mean it.

The beer in your hand swirls, a storm in a pint glass. You watch it spin, thinking about how everything these days seems determined to drown you.

Then Roach walks in.

Roach—half philosopher, half walking disaster. A man with too many past lives and a prosthetic eye that glows faintly under bar light, making him look part machine, part ghost.

‘That recovery group, they’re solid,’ he says, by way of hello. His voice is like chewing on gravel. ‘Might’ve been able to quit if I stuck around.’ ‘4.8 stars on Google, right?’ ‘Right. Wait. How’d you know that?’ His synthetic eye sits there while the real one narrows. ‘Been there.’ ‘What?’ ‘Been there. You recommended it.’ Roach laughs, short and sharp. ‘That was the review forum.’ ‘Memory’s fuzzy.’ ‘Fuzzy? You’re getting soft.’ ‘All those reviews read like discount novels, Roach.’ ‘Why the hell would I write reviews?’ ‘Same reason you do anything—to feel something.’ He smacks your chest, hard enough to make you look up. ‘Yujin broke you. Plain as day.’ Your throat tightens. The name alone feels like a switchblade. ‘It’s not like that… anymore.’ ‘Sure looks like it.’ ‘How’s that?’ ‘You’re on the leaderboard in this bar. They’re bleeding you dry, and you’re letting them.’ You don’t argue. Just take another sip. ‘Don’t deserve this money anyway.’ ‘Then give it elsewhere. There’s an orphanage across the street.’ ‘Don’t play saint with me.’ ‘It’s just a block away.’ ‘Fuck off.’ ‘Just a block—’ ‘Fine.’ You press your glass against the table, like the condensation might hold you steady. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Roach grins like he’s won something. ‘Ever watch her show?’ he asks, tilting his flask toward you. You hesitate. ‘Not really.’ ‘Bullshit. Saw you yesterday. That rain scene.’ Your grip tightens around the glass. The rain scene. You were there. Back when “we” still meant something. Holding her coat between takes, watching her shiver between scripted heartbreaks. ‘She always cried pretty,’ you murmur. ‘Even back then.’ Roach nods, takes a sip. ‘Tell me about it.’ You do. You don’t mean to, but you do. ‘Nothing to tell,’ you start. ‘I was nobody. She was becoming somebody. Simple math.’ ‘That’s not what I heard.’ ‘Yeah? What’d you hear?’ ‘That you proposed. Night before Seoul.’ The beer sours in your mouth. ‘Who told you that?’ ‘Does it matter? True though, isn’t it?’ You let out something that’s supposed to be a laugh. ‘Got the ring from my grandmother. Vintage Tiffany, art deco. Yujin loved vintage.’ ‘And?’ ‘And she cried. Not the pretty kind.’ You see it now, clear as the night it happened—her shaking hands, the way she pressed the box back into yours like it burned. ‘Said she couldn’t. Said she wasn't ready. I guess that was the foreshadowing: she broke up with me just a week later.’ ‘A choice between you and fame?’ ‘Between real life and the life she’d dreamed of since she was six. No contest, really.’ Roach doesn’t speak for a while. Just stares at the bar like it’s holding the right words. ‘Where’s the ring now?’ You smirk, but it tastes like blood. ‘Pawned it. Bought a week of blackout drunk and a ticket anywhere else.’ Roach exhales, long and low. His eyes flick to your watch, but nothing gold can compare to what you lost. ‘And here you are.’ ‘Here I am.’ Bass pulses through the walls, someone screams about love on the dance floor, and the bartender slides another drink toward you like it might fix anything. Roach downs the rest of his flask, claps a hand on your shoulder. ‘Well. Good luck with that. Got a missus waiting. Let me know when you find one.’ You don’t look at him. ‘We might never speak again.’ ‘Doubt that.’ A pat on the back, one final grin. Then he’s gone. You scoff. If ever. And you leave.

—

Seoul in summer is a thing that sticks. To your skin, to your thoughts, to the spaces between breath. Heat rises off the pavement, thick and wet, settling in your lungs like something permanent.

The city is wide awake, but softer at this hour. Convenience store fluorescents hover in the humidity, blurring edges. Subway vents exhale something metallic, ghostly. The crickets don’t know they live in a city. They just keep singing.

You walk. Not home, not anywhere. Just walking, because it’s better than stopping.

Stopping means remembering.

Every street corner holds a version of her. The Yujin who stole fries off your plate, who could sleep through a fireworks show, who once convinced you that every ice cream cone tasted better if it was half-melted. She’s there, tucked into flickering billboards, frozen mid-laugh on subway ads, threaded between the chords of songs you don’t mean to hear.

You take the long way. Five, six corners. Maybe more.

Then the bus stop appears.

Half-forgotten. Almost overgrown. A bench with its paint peeling like old skin, weeds curling around the edges like they might swallow it whole.

You sit. Elbows on knees. Hands folded. Thinking. Not thinking.

The streetlight buzzes. The air is thick with waiting.

Then—

A shadow falls across your feet.

A shift in pressure. Not wind, just something. The moment before a storm, before impact, before memory collides with the present and makes a mess of everything.

‘What are you doing here?’ Soft. Not a blade, not a wound. Just a question that lands like an old habit.

You don’t need to look. But you do. Because some habits don’t break.

Yujin stands there, framed by sodium light, hands tucked into the pockets of a hoodie that looks too soft to exist. No cameras. No entourage. Just her.

And god—just her is enough to knock the breath out of your chest.

‘Hiding?’ Soft. Like the question isn’t a question, just something to fill the space between heartbeats.

You don’t look up right away. You know the shape of her. You’ve spent years knowing it. The way she stands, weight slightly to one side. The way her voice lands, gentle, edged with something only you ever got to hear.

But you look anyway. Because it’s her. And some rules of the universe don’t change.

Yujin.

Not the Yujin on billboards, the Yujin on magazine covers, the Yujin who belongs to a nation that adores her.

Just Yujin.

Hair a little messy. Hoodie swallowing her frame. Hands tucked into the sleeves like she’s bracing against a cold that doesn’t exist.

And—god. Her eyes. Still warm. Still familiar. Still Dunsan-dong in their quiet, endless way.

She tilts her head. Smiles. The kind of smile that makes you feel seventeen again, like you just said something stupid and brilliant in the same breath.

‘Hiding?’ she repeats, softer this time.

‘Hiding implies I have something to hide from.’

‘And do you?’

A pause. Then—

‘Maybe.’

A hum. A small shift in weight. Then she sits. Just like that. No asking, no hesitation. Just sits, close enough that her knee brushes yours, like muscle memory, like the past hasn’t completely given up on you yet.

The air smells like street food, like summer. Somewhere, a neon sign hums its last flickers before shutting off for the night.

She bumps her shoulder against yours.

‘Missed you, you know.’

You turn your head. Blink. She’s watching you, like the sentence wasn’t a trap, wasn’t something heavy. Just… true.

You swallow.

‘Yeah?’

She nods, pulling her sleeves over her hands. ‘Yeah.’

The night stretches. Not awkward. Not tight with something unspoken. Just easy. Just… there.

‘How’s life?’ she asks.

‘Oh, you know. Full of bad choices.’

‘Any good ones?’

‘Still deciding.’

She breathes out a laugh, soft.

You glance at her, at the curve of her nose, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear like she’s done since she was a kid.

‘You look…’ she starts, then tilts her head.

‘What?’

‘The same.’

You huff a laugh. ‘That’s a lie.’

‘No.’ She nudges your knee again. ‘You’re just… still you.’

And it’s so simple, the way she says it. So casual, like she hasn’t just pulled the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. Not yet.

She leans in slightly.

‘Still drink too much coffee?’

‘Still sleep through earthquakes?’

Her grin widens. ‘Still remember that?’

‘Some things don’t change.’

‘Some do.’

A small shift. A glance. A fraction closer.

And the city moves around you, oblivious.

But you?

You stay still.

You stay here.

Yujin sighs, long and soft, tilting her head back, watching the streetlight cast flickering halos through the humidity.

‘Seoul’s different at night,’ she murmurs. ‘Seoul’s different all the time.’

She hums, half in agreement, half just because she likes the sound. You forgot about that—the way she used to make tiny noises when she was thinking, little musical notes that filled in the gaps between words.

‘Feels slower now,’ she says. ‘That’s just you.’ She turns to you, eyes warm. ‘Yeah?’ You nod. ‘Everything moves too fast for you these days. You forgot what slow feels like.’ A small smile. ‘Remind me?’ Something tightens in your chest. She doesn’t mean it like that. Doesn’t mean it like anything more than what it is—a quiet moment, a quiet ask. But still. You shift, leaning back against the bench, stretching your arms across the top like you own the night. Like it doesn’t own you. ‘Alright,’ you say. ‘Lesson one: sitting still.’ She huffs a laugh but follows your lead, sinking deeper into the wood, legs stretching out. Her foot knocks against yours. ‘Like this?’ ‘Yeah.’ A beat. ‘And then what?’ ‘Nothing.’ She raises a brow. ‘That’s it?’ ‘That’s it.’ She exhales, slow and thoughtful. ‘You always made things feel easy,’ she says, voice quiet, like she’s afraid of disrupting the moment. You glance at her, and she’s not looking at you—just at the night, at the city, at something only she can see. ‘Not sure that’s true,’ you admit. ‘No, it is.’ She pulls her sleeves over her hands again, eyes flicking toward you. ‘You made me feel easy. Like… breathing.’ Something inside you curls at the edges. ‘Yujin—’ ‘It’s okay.’ She shakes her head, soft, smiling like she’s telling you not to carry it too heavily. ‘I’m just remembering.’ The city hums around you both. A distant motorbike rumbles past. Somewhere, an old radio plays a song you half recognize. You look at her again. Hair slightly mussed. Eyes bright, soft, familiar. Like she was never gone at all. She shifts, tucking one leg under the other, hands still hidden in her sleeves.

‘You ever think about calling?’ Her voice is light. Not demanding. Not accusing. Just... wondering. You let out a slow breath. ‘You ever think about picking up?’ A small laugh, exhale-soft. ‘Yeah.’ You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you, chin propped against her knee, smile barely-there but real. ‘But I figured you needed time,’ she says. You swallow. ‘Did I?’ Her fingers twitch against the fabric of her hoodie. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I just told myself that so I wouldn’t call.’ The honesty knocks something loose in your chest. You don’t say anything for a moment. The city moves around you both, neon humming against the wet pavement, the smell of night air thick with too many things. Then, quietly— ‘Three years is a long time, Yujin.’ ‘I know.’

She shifts, slow, careful, like she’s turning over a fragile thought in her hands. ‘But I never wanted it to be forever.’ Your throat tightens. You want to ask her then why did you leave like it was? But you don’t. Because you already know the answer. Because she was always meant for something bigger. Because she was scared, because you were scared, because maybe—just maybe—back then, love wasn’t enough to hold everything steady.

Instead, you say, ‘You look good, you know.’ Her lips curve, soft. ‘You do too.’ You scoff, tipping your head back against the bench. ‘Liar.’ ‘I never lied to you.’ That shuts you up. For a moment, you let it sink in. The weight of her voice, the way she says it like it’s a fact, like it’s something you should’ve never doubted. Then, softer— ‘You really never called?’ she asks. ‘I really never called.’ She doesn’t look away. ‘Why?’ You inhale. Let the air sit heavy in your lungs. ‘Because I thought you’d be better off without me.’ The words land, quiet and unpolished. Yujin blinks. Then— ‘You idiot.’ And then she’s moving, shifting closer, her fingers finding your sleeve, gripping just slightly, just enough for you to feel her there, to feel her warmth against the fabric. ‘Do you know how many times I almost showed up at your door?’ she says, voice soft but steady. ‘How many times I wanted to tell you that I was still here? That I—’ She stops. Exhales. Looks away, looks back. ‘That I missed you?’ You swallow. She’s close now. Not quite touching, but nearly. The air between you charged, something slow, something waiting. Your heart does something complicated in your chest. ‘You missed me?’ you murmur. Yujin smiles, small, fond. ‘Of course, you idiot.’ The city hums. The night exhales. And you— You don’t move away. Yujin stays close. Close enough for you to count her breaths, to feel the warmth of her body radiating through the space between you. You should say something. You should do something. Instead, you just sit there. And Yujin—Yujin lets you.

Her fingers stay curled into your sleeve, loose but certain. Like she’s testing gravity, checking to see if you’ll stay, if you’ll shift, if you’ll remind her that you’re real. She tilts her head, watching you the way she used to—like she’s memorizing you, like she’s trying to fit you back into the version of her life where you were always supposed to be. And maybe she is. Maybe she’s wondering how you look the same but feel different. Maybe she’s cataloging the way your shoulders have set a little heavier, the way your mouth curves in thought before you speak. Or maybe she’s just looking. Like she never stopped. ‘So,’ she says, voice light, careful. ‘What now?’ A question too big for this moment. A question you can’t answer, not yet. So you do what you always do. You deflect. You lean back, arms stretching across the top of the bench, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ She lifts a brow. ‘You were always the planner.’ She snorts. ‘Hardly.’ ‘Oh? I seem to remember someone who had color-coded schedules for summer break.’ ‘That was one summer.’

‘Still counts.’ She exhales a laugh, tipping her head back against the bench, looking up at the sky. ‘Okay, fine. Maybe I was a little obsessed with plans.’ ‘A little?’

She shoots you a look, but it’s all warmth. All familiarity. ‘You liked it,’ she says. ‘It was efficient. It was cute.’

You hesitate. Just slightly. But she catches it. Of course she does. Her smile softens.

‘You can say it, you know.’ You tilt your head, pretending to be confused. ‘Say what?’ ‘That you missed me too.’

Something about the way she says it makes your stomach pull tight. Not teasing. Not fishing. Just true. You turn back to the street, watching the way the neon catches in the puddles, turning them into something like galaxies.

‘You already know.’ Yujin hums. ‘I want to hear it anyway.’ You exhale.

Three years of distance. Three years of silence. Three years of trying to unwrite the part of your life where she belonged.

‘Yeah,’ you say, voice quiet. ‘I missed you.’

Yujin doesn’t say anything right away. Then—

Her hand slides fully into your sleeve, warm against your wrist. A small thing. A quiet thing. But it’s enough.

‘Good,’ she murmurs.

You sit there like that for a while. Neither of you moving. Neither of you pulling away. And for the first time in years—

The silence between you doesn’t feel like an ending. It feels like a beginning.

Her hand stays there. Not gripping. Not holding. Just resting, warm against your wrist, like it belongs there. Like it never left.

You let out a slow breath. Three years. Three whole years. And somehow, this—her, the quiet press of her skin against yours, the way she’s just here—feels so natural it makes your ribs ache.

‘What are we doing, Yujin?’

Soft. Not accusing. Just—just needing to know if she feels it too, if this night is supposed to mean what you think it does.

She tilts her head, slow. Her hair slips over her shoulder, catching the streetlight in its strands. ‘Talking?’

A small, careful smile.

You huff. ‘Is that what this is?’

She hums, shifts a little closer, foot knocking against yours. ‘I don’t know. Feels nice, though.’

Nice. Nice, like it isn’t everything. Nice, like you aren’t suddenly breathing her in again, like your body hasn’t been on high alert since the moment she walked into your orbit tonight.

You roll your wrist slightly, just enough so that your fingers brush hers. She doesn’t pull away.

The city hums. The night exhales. And then—

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ she asks.

It’s an easy question. A simple one. But something about it knots itself into your chest, makes your throat tight. Because that’s always how it was with her. Yujin never asked for big things. Just small ones, one after another, adding up to something impossible to resist.

Do you want to get ice cream? Do you want to climb onto the roof? Do you want to watch the rain with me? Do you want to stay?

And you had always said yes.

You glance at her now, at the way she’s watching you, hopeful but not pushing, patient in the way only she could ever be. A walk. A moment. A step toward something you don’t quite know how to name.

You exhale, slow. Then you stand.

‘Lead the way.’

Her smile—god. Her smile.

She slips her hand fully into yours, easy, thoughtless, like muscle memory. Like no time has passed at all.

And you— You let her.

The street hums around you, the last traces of night shifting toward something softer. The vendors have mostly packed up, but the scent of grilled meat and frying oil still lingers, floating warm through the thick summer air.

Yujin’s hand stays in yours. Not tight. Not hesitant. Just there. Like it was always meant to be.

You walk without direction. Just moving, side by side, the way you used to. Her footsteps match yours easily, a quiet sync neither of you planned.

‘Where are we going?’ you ask, voice low.

‘Nowhere,’ she says.

It makes you smile.

A few years ago, that answer would have annoyed her. Yujin, the girl with color-coded schedules, with plans so detailed they might as well have been carved into stone. But now she just says it like it’s enough. Like it’s the whole point.

She swings your hands slightly, absentminded. ‘You always walked like this,’ she murmurs.

‘Like what?’

She shrugs. ‘Like the city doesn’t own you.’

You breathe in, slow. The neon of old convenience stores, the occasional flickering of a streetlamp. ‘I guess I never let it.’

She hums. ‘I did.’

You glance at her. ‘Yujin—’

‘It’s okay,’ she cuts in, smiling. ‘I wanted to. I just—’ She exhales, presses her lips together for a moment, then shakes her head. ‘I forgot how good it feels to walk like this. Without thinking.’

You squeeze her hand just slightly.

She notices. Her thumb brushes the edge of your palm. Not an accident. Not a mistake.

The city stretches ahead of you, quiet. ‘You ever think about coming back?’ you ask.

She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers tighten around yours, just a little.

‘I used to dream about it,’ she says, voice softer now. ‘I’d wake up thinking I was still in Dunsan-dong. That I’d step outside and find you waiting, like always.’

Your throat goes tight. She turns her head, studies your face in the flickering light.

‘But I was scared,’ she says, gentle. ‘What if you were different? What if I was?’

You don’t look away. ‘And now?’

A breath. A small, small smile. ‘I think I was scared of the wrong thing.’

Your heart stumbles.

She slows, pulling you toward the edge of the sidewalk, toward a tiny park that barely qualifies as a park—a patch of grass, a few trees. The kind of place nobody notices. She stops. Turns to face you.

You should say something. You should say everything.

But she beats you to it.

‘You were always the best part of my life,’ she says, voice steady, firm, like she’s decided something for herself.

Your pulse jumps. ‘Yujin—’

‘I just needed you to know that.’

She’s looking at you like she’s bracing for impact. Like she’s not sure what you’ll do with this thing she’s handing you.

So you take it. Carefully, quietly, the way she deserves.

You lift your hand—the one she’s not holding—and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath catches.

‘Yeah?’ you murmur.

She nods.

And then, softer—

‘I think you were always mine.’

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Because the next thing you know, her hands are on your face, and your mouth is against hers, and the whole city dissolves around you.

She tastes like everything you remember. Like fine tea and something sweeter, something that was always just hers. She presses closer, hands slipping down to your collar, holding you there like you might disappear.

You won’t. Not this time.

When you pull back, she’s breathing fast, forehead resting against yours. You smile.

‘Still walk like the city doesn’t own me?’ you murmur.

She laughs, breathless, and pulls you back in.

Yujin kisses like a memory you never let go of. Like muscle memory, like breathing. Like the space between your ribs was always meant to make room for her.

She pulls back, just enough for her nose to brush yours. Her breath is warm, uneven. Her hands are still curled into the collar of your shirt, holding, gripping, keeping.

You open your eyes. She’s already looking at you.

Not like the girl on the billboards, not like the actress on screen. Just Yujin. Soft, real, right here.

Her lips are pink and kiss-bitten. She blinks slowly, dazed, like she’s trying to piece together what just happened. And then—

Then she laughs.

Not a big laugh. Not loud. Just this tiny, incredulous little sound. Like she can’t believe it. Like she can’t believe you.

‘What?’ you murmur.

She shakes her head, smiling, fingers still resting against your collar. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s a first.’

She huffs. ‘Shut up.’

‘Make me.’

A flicker of something in her eyes. Amusement. Mischief. Something else.

She tilts her head, considering. Then, in one slow movement, she leans in—

Not kissing you, not quite. Just close enough that her lips barely graze yours. Close enough that you can feel her smile.

‘Tempting,’ she murmurs.

Your heart stumbles.

But then she pulls away, slipping her fingers from your shirt, stepping back onto the sidewalk, like she’s giving you space to breathe.

You don’t need it. But you let her.

The city hums around you, the distant rumble of a car engine, the occasional flicker of neon against damp pavement.

You watch as Yujin tilts her head toward the sky, stretching her arms out, exhaling like she’s just remembered how.

‘I forgot what this feels like,’ she admits.

‘What?’

‘Not thinking.’ She lets her hands drop to her sides, flexing her fingers. ‘Not planning every second of my life in advance. Just… being.’

You shift, watching her.

‘I don’t think I’ve done that in years,’ she says.

A pause. Then, softly—

‘Stay with me.’

Your heart does something complicated in your chest.

She looks over, a little hesitant now, like she’s not sure how the words sound out loud.

‘I mean—’ she starts, but you shake your head.

‘Okay.’

Her lips part slightly.

Like she expected you to hesitate. Like she thought she’d have to convince you.

You step closer. Just enough that the space between you disappears again.

‘Okay?’ she echoes.

You nod.

Then, quieter—‘Anywhere.’

Yujin’s face softens.

And god, it’s so easy, the way she looks at you. Like you are something known. Like she is something understood.

She lets out a small, breathy laugh, reaching up to brush her thumb against the corner of your mouth.

‘You’re so stupid,’ she murmurs.

‘You love it.’

‘Yeah,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Yeah, I do.’

She slips her hand back into yours, fingers threading together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she never left. Like you never let her.

And the city stretches ahead, wide open, waiting.

You should take a taxi. That would be the smart thing. A quiet, unremarkable way to disappear from the city before someone notices Korea’s brightest star walking hand-in-hand with someone who isn’t famous, isn’t scripted, isn’t anything but hers.

But Yujin shakes her head.

‘Not yet,’ she says.

So you walk.

She keeps close, hood pulled low, fingers curled into yours. The streets are thinning out, the city exhaling into its quieter hours. The air smells like fried oil and pavement, the ghosts of dinner service still hanging in the air.

She bumps into you once, then twice.

‘Are you always this bad at walking?’ you ask.

She grins, breathless. ‘I think I forgot how to do it with company.’

Company. Company.

You’re not sure if you’re relieved of that; that she was too busy to even meander through lazy lovers.

You squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

Your place isn’t far, but when you reach it—when Yujin stops at the entrance, tilting her head back to take it all in—something shifts.

‘Huh.’

That’s all she says.

You fight a smirk. ‘Huh?’

She makes a small noise, arms crossed, like she’s trying not to look impressed.

‘You kept acting like you lived in a shoebox.’

You raise a brow. ‘Did I?’

‘Yeah.’ She gestures vaguely to the high-rise, the massive glass windows catching the city lights. ‘I was expecting something small. Modest. Maybe a bachelor pad with an ugly couch and a tragic little coffee table.’

You scoff. ‘What do you take me for?’

‘A very humble man, apparently.’

You shake your head, leading her inside.

The elevator is empty. Too bright. Too quiet.

She rocks on her heels. ‘So, do I get the grand tour?’

‘I don’t know,’ you say, pretending to think. ‘You might not be able to handle it. Very overwhelming.’

She elbows you in the side, laughing. ‘Shut up.’

The doors slide open.

She steps out first, into the hallway, waiting while you fish your keys from your pocket.

She glances over. ‘I still can’t believe you live here.’

‘Why?’

She shrugs. ‘It’s just weird.’

‘Weird how?’

She scrunches her nose, like she doesn’t quite know how to explain it. ‘I don’t know. You just never cared about stuff like this.’

You unlock the door.

She steps inside.

And immediately—

‘Oh my god.’

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. ‘What now?’

She turns in a slow circle, taking everything in. The high ceilings, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft lighting that spills across the polished wood.

‘Are you kidding?’ she says, spinning toward you, mouth open in faux outrage. ‘This is beautiful.’

You snort. ‘What, you thought I was sleeping in a broom closet?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wow. Faith in me is strong, I see.’

She grins, moving toward the living room. ‘No, it’s just—’ She shakes her head, fingers brushing over the back of the sleek, perfectly chosen couch. ‘You were always so… comfortable with less. I figured, even if you had money, you’d still live like some struggling artist in a shoebox.’

You scoff, kicking off your shoes. ‘What does that even mean?’

‘Like, I don’t know, sleeping on a mattress on the floor. A single sad chair. Stacks of books everywhere.’

You raise a brow. ‘So your image of me is basically a broke philosophy major?’

She shrugs. ‘It suited you.’

You exhale a laugh.

‘But this,’ she gestures around again, ‘this is… grown-up.’

‘Was I not grown-up before?’

She grins. ‘No.’

‘Wow.’

‘But,’ she continues, stepping toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the city spills out in front of her like a living, breathing thing, ‘I like it. It feels like you.’

You pause.

Not expensive. Not fancy. Not over-the-top.

It feels like you.

You scratch the back of your neck, looking away.

‘Yeah?’

She nods. ‘Yeah.’

She turns back to the glass, resting her fingers lightly against the frame. ‘You can see the river from here.’

You step up beside her.

It’s a view you see every day, but somehow, with Yujin here, it looks different.

She breathes in. ‘It’s nice.’

You breathe her in.

‘Yeah,’ you murmur. ‘It is.’

She turns.

And then she kisses you.

Not careful. Not planned.

Just Yujin.

She tilts her head, presses up slightly on her toes, and meets your mouth with something warm, something easy.

It’s not perfect.

She misses, just slightly. Laughs into the kiss. Her hands fumble for your collar but find your wrist instead.

But god—

It’s real.

You breathe her in. Hold her waist. Feel her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt like she’s trying to pull you closer, closer.

She hums against your lips, smiling.

You grin. ‘You missed.’

She exhales a laugh. ‘Shut up.’

‘Make me.’

She does.

The kisses are clumsy, messy, soft. The kind that happens when two people are trying to remember, trying to relearn each other in real-time.

She tugs at your shirt.

You trip over the edge of the couch.

She gasps.

You land in a heap, tangled together, breathless.

Silence.

Then—

She laughs.

Bright, full, head tipped back against your chest.

You groan, letting your head fall back against the cushions. ‘Unbelievable.’

She grins, shifting so she’s straddling your lap. ‘I don’t know, I think it’s fitting.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah.’ She leans in, pressing her forehead against yours. ‘Clumsy love suits us.’

Your breath catches.

Then, softer—

‘Yeah,’ you murmur. ‘It does.’

She cups your face, fingers warm against your jaw.

The city hums outside, unaware.

And you—

You stay here.

With her.

You don’t know who says it first.

Maybe her. Maybe you. Maybe neither of you—maybe it’s just implied, wrapped up in the way she’s still sitting in your lap, fingers absently tracing patterns over your collarbone, skin warm against yours.

But at some point, between the teasing and the breathless little ohs that slip between kisses, it just becomes a fact.

You’re both too warm.

Too sticky from the night air, from walking too long through humid Seoul streets, from the thick summer heat pressing against the glass of your windows.

‘Shower,’ she murmurs.

You’re not sure if it’s a request or a declaration, but either way—

‘Yeah,’ you say.

And then you’re moving.

Yujin laughs when you lift her off the couch, stumbling slightly as you navigate through the apartment. She doesn’t let go, arms slung loosely around your neck, breath warm against your ear.

‘Are you always this dramatic?’ she asks.

‘You love it.’

She hums, not denying it.

The bathroom is bright, too bright, the kind of brightness that makes everything feel a little more real than you’re prepared for. But Yujin doesn’t hesitate—just pulls her hoodie over her head, shakes her hair out, steps closer like she’s done this a thousand times.

Like she’s never left.

You watch as she turns toward the mirror, tilting her head slightly.

‘Haven’t been in a place like this in a while,’ she muses.

‘A bathroom?’

She snorts, shoving you lightly. ‘No, this kind of bathroom.’ She waves a hand vaguely, indicating the open shower, the marble walls, the soft lighting. ‘It’s fancy.’

You roll your eyes, reaching for the faucet. ‘You act like you don’t stay in five-star hotels every week.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How?’

She steps behind you, pressing her chin against your shoulder. ‘This feels like you.’

You don’t know what to say to that.

So you don’t say anything at all.

The water warms between your fingers, steam rising slowly.

Yujin hums, stepping forward, slipping her fingers under the hem of your shirt. ‘Come on.’

You don’t move.

She looks up, amused. ‘What, suddenly shy?’

You scoff, shaking your head, but your pulse jumps when her fingers skate lightly against your stomach.

She grins. ‘Cute.’

‘What is?’

‘Three years apart, and you’re still so you.’

You exhale a laugh, finally pulling your shirt over your head. She does the same, tossing her clothes into a messy pile, and then—

Then it’s just you and her, standing too close, bare skin meeting for the first time in what feels like forever.

Her breath catches.

You hear it. Feel it.

And god—

She’s so beautiful.

All golden skin and soft curves and the kind of warmth that could make the whole city feel like home.

She watches you, expectant, waiting.

You don’t make her wait long.

You reach for her—

And she lets you.

Lets you pull her in, lets you kiss her slow, deep, careful, like you’re memorizing her all over again.

She sighs into your mouth, hands trailing up your arms, curling into your hair.

‘Come on,’ she whispers.

And this time—

You listen.

The water is hot, almost too hot, but neither of you care.

Yujin steps under first, exhaling as the warmth rolls over her skin, tilting her head back so that her hair darkens, slick against her shoulders.

You’re distracted.

Too distracted.

Because—

Because she’s standing there, all bare skin and soft curves and Yujin, looking at you like she already knows exactly what you’re thinking.

‘Are you going to keep staring?’ she teases.

You swallow. ‘Maybe.’

She laughs, stepping forward, reaching for the shampoo.

You should move. Should help. Should do something.

But instead, you just—

Just watch.

The way she hums under her breath, the way she lathers the shampoo into her hair, fingers massaging small circles against her scalp.

You’re so lost in it, in her, that you don’t even realize she’s finished—

Until she suddenly turns, tilts her head, and smiles.

‘Come here.’

You don’t hesitate.

She tugs you forward, fingers threading through your hair, working shampoo into your scalp like it’s something sacred, something worth taking her time with.

And god—

God, you forgot how good this feels.

Forgot what it was like to just be, to just exist under someone’s hands, to let yourself be cared for in a way that doesn’t feel heavy, doesn’t feel like a transaction.

Her fingers move slowly, carefully, her nails scraping lightly against your skin.

You close your eyes.

Breathe.

Let yourself lean into it.

Let yourself lean into her.

And she—

She lets you.

She’s still rinsing when you reach for her.

‘What—’

You shush her, hands skimming up her sides, guiding her under the water’s warmth.

She lets you.

Lets you tilt her chin slightly, lets you press a kiss just below her ear, lets you work your fingers into her hair like she’s something holy.

Her breath catches.

You hear it, feel it, let it sink into your bones.

‘Close your eyes,’ you murmur.

She hesitates—just a fraction of a second—then obeys.

The water slides down her face, over her lips, down the elegant curve of her throat.

You watch, transfixed.

Then you move.

You reach for the shampoo, work it between your hands, and Yujin’s confused—’Again?’—but when your fingers find her scalp—

She melts.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen her this undone.

Head tilted slightly, mouth parted, body soft beneath your touch.

She hums, a small, quiet sound, like she’s just remembered something she’d long forgotten.

You barely breathe.

Just keep going, keep moving, keep tracing slow, deliberate circles, letting your fingers tangle through her hair like it’s something sacred.

Because it is.

Because she is.

Yujin, the girl who never stopped moving, who never let herself stop thinking, who planned every step of her life down to the last decimal—

She’s still now.

Still, and warm, and yours.

You rinse the shampoo carefully, letting the water do the work. Your fingers trail down, down, past her neck, past her shoulders, past the delicate slip of her collarbone.

She sighs.

Leans into you.

Lets herself fall.

And god—

You’ll catch her.

Every time.

You reach for the soap next, work it slowly over her back, over her arms, over every inch of her that you can touch.

She exhales, barely above a whisper.

‘Feels nice.’

You smile.

‘Good.’

You don’t rush.

Not when she’s like this. Not when she’s letting you do this, letting you love her with something as simple as this.

Your hands trail lower, down her spine, over the dip of her waist. She shifts slightly, breath hitching just a little.

You pause.

Press a kiss to her shoulder.

She shivers, but not from the cold.

‘This okay?’ you murmur.

Her fingers curl around your wrist, stopping you.

For a moment, you think she’s going to pull away—

But instead—

She guides your hand lower.

Presses it against the soft warmth of her stomach.

Holds it there.

She exhales, slow and deep. ‘Don’t stop.’ You don’t. God, you don’t. You let your hands move slowly, carefully, exploring her the way you’ve always wanted to—like she’s something to learn, something to understand. And Yujin— Yujin lets you.

She lets you wash away the last three years, lets you trace something new into her skin, lets you relearn every inch of her with soap and steam and careful, careful hands.

She turns in your arms, pressing her forehead against yours. The water slips between you, catching at the spaces where you don’t quite meet. She’s smiling. Soft. Sweet. Yours. You cup her face. She leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. For a long, long moment, neither of you move. You just stay. Right here. Right now. Like this. Like always. Then— She opens her eyes. And she kisses you.

The water trails down her spine in slow, careful rivers, catching in the dips of her back, rolling down the curve of her waist. You follow its path with your fingers, mapping her skin like something sacred, something known.

She doesn’t move. Just lets you touch. Lets you care.

You start with her back, palms gliding down the slope of her shoulders, the delicate stretch of muscle beneath warm, damp skin. Your thumbs press gently into the knots there, kneading, coaxing, working out tension she probably doesn’t even realize she’s holding.

She exhales, long and slow, tipping her head forward. ‘Mmm,’ she murmurs, voice thick with something close to sleep. ‘That feels good.’ You smile. Press your thumbs in a little deeper. Let your hands drift lower, following the curve of her spine, tracing each ridge, each shadow, each memory pressed into muscle. You smooth circles over her lower back, fingers pressing into the dimples there, trailing down— She shivers. Your hands pause. ‘Ticklish?’ you murmur.

She huffs a quiet laugh, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ‘A little.’ You grin, but you don’t tease. Not now. Not when she’s letting you do this, letting you love her in the simplest, softest way. You reach for the soap, work it between your hands until it foams, and then— Then you really start. You start with her arms, sliding your palms over smooth, damp skin, tracing the delicate lines of muscle beneath. You lift her wrist, turning it over, running your fingers along the pulse point there. Her breath catches. You watch, mesmerized, as water beads along the inside of her forearm, trailing down to the soft bend of her elbow. ‘You’re so careful,’ she murmurs. You hum. ‘You deserve careful.’ Something flickers across her face. Something soft. She lets her fingers curl around yours. You smile. Run your hands over her stomach next, tracing the subtle rise and fall of each breath, the warmth of her, the realness of her. She shifts slightly, the movement pressing her closer, pressing skin to skin, pressing warmth to warmth. You exhale. Let your hands drift lower, over the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the length of her thigh. You take your time. Because she lets you. Because she wants you to. You kneel then, water rolling down your shoulders, down your back, pooling against your skin. You press your lips to her hip. She exhales, shaky, fingers threading into your hair. ‘You don’t have to—’ ‘I want to.’ You slide your hands over her legs, smoothing your palms down her thighs, over her calves, down to her ankles. She watches, breathing slow. You work the soap into her skin, rubbing warmth into her, sliding your thumbs up the backs of her knees, over the gentle curve of her calves. She sighs. Soft. Deep. Content. You let your fingers skim up again, over the dip of her waist, the gentle swell of her stomach, up— Up— To her chest. Her breath stutters. You pause. Look up. She’s already looking at you. Eyes dark, lips parted, cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. She lifts her hand, pressing it against yours. Guiding you. ‘Go on,’ she whispers. And you do. God, you do.

You cup her, trace the delicate slope of her, run your thumbs over warm, wet skin, over the soft peaks of her breasts, watching the way she reacts, the way she shivers under your touch.

Her lips part.

Her fingers tighten in your hair.

‘You’re—’ she starts, voice barely a breath, barely a sound. ‘You’re so—’

You stand.

Tilt her chin up.

Kiss her.

Not hungry. Not desperate.

Just deep.

Just certain.

Just her.

And when you pull back, pressing your forehead against hers, she exhales a laugh.

‘This is dangerous,’ she murmurs.

You smile. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

She lifts her arms, looping them around your neck, pulling you in, pressing against you, warm and wet and perfect.

And you—

You let her.

The steam rises. The water beads against her skin, gliding down slow, tracing paths over the soft slopes of her body, catching at the delicate points where warmth meets shadow, where light bends just so, where she is golden and bronze and endless.

You follow it.

With your eyes first, then with your hands.

Fingertips grazing along the soft valley of her stomach, skimming over her ribs, pressing gently into the places where she is most tender, most real. You watch the way the droplets gather at her collarbone, suspended for just a moment before slipping down, down, disappearing into the delicate dip between her breasts.

It feels unfair, almost, that something as simple as water gets to touch her like this before you do.

So you take its place.

Your lips find her collarbone first, brushing against the damp skin, warm and reverent. She exhales, tilting her head slightly, letting you have her like this, letting you take your time.

You do.

You always do.

Your mouth trails lower, following the path of the water, tracing its descent. You press a kiss against the gentle swell of her chest, right where her heart beats beneath, steady, certain, alive. You linger there, letting the moment stretch, letting yourself feel it, letting yourself remember what it’s like to love someone in a way that has nothing to do with time or distance or the years lost in between.

She breathes in, slow and deep, her fingers threading through your hair, nails scraping lightly against your scalp. Not pulling. Just holding.

And then you go lower.

The water clings to her, catching at the nipples, glistening like liquid gold against the dark-bronze warmth of her nipples. It drips, slow and deliberate, down the soft curve of her, over the places where she is most tender, most beautiful.

You chase it.

Your lips press to her sternum, then lower, following the water as it rolls over the swell of her breast, catching it before it can disappear.

She makes a sound then, a soft, breathy thing, like something breaking open inside her, like something unfolding, something giving way.

And god—

You love her like this.

Love the way she lets you worship her, the way she lets you press your mouth to her skin like it’s something sacred, like it’s something worth kneeling for.

You take your time.

You kiss along the curve of her, letting your tongue flick against her skin, letting yourself taste the warmth of her, the salt, the sweetness, the Yujin of her.

She trembles. Not much. Just a little. Just enough. You kiss the the peak of her breast—nipple, lips closing around the dark, glistening bronze of her, taking her between your lips like something meant to be savored. And she— She gasps. Soft. Sharp. Her fingers tighten in your hair, her back arching just slightly, just enough to press herself further into your mouth, to offer herself up like this, to let you take her in a way that feels like praise. The water slips between you, forgotten, but you don’t need it anymore. She is all the warmth you will ever need. And you— You are drowning. But you don’t mind. Not one bit.

You don’t know how long you stay like this—your mouth on her, your hands tracing slow worship into her skin, your tongue moving against the dark-bronze pebble of her like you’re tasting something sacred, something forbidden, something you never stopped craving.

She doesn’t rush you.

Just feels.

Just lets herself be felt.

Her fingers tremble against your scalp, gripping just enough to keep you grounded, to keep herself from falling apart entirely. The water sings against the tiles, drowning the rest of the world out, leaving just the sound of her soft gasps, her breath catching, the delicate whimper when your teeth graze over where she is most sensitive.

‘You’re—’ she tries, but the sentence breaks, dissolving into something else entirely.

You hum against her, half-smirking, half-dazed.

‘Say that again?’

She exhales sharply. Then, in a voice softer than the steam curling between you—

‘You’re ruining me.’

You smile against her skin.

‘Good.’

But then she’s moving.

Slow, steady, deliberate—sliding her hands down to your jaw, guiding you up, forcing your mouth away from her skin so she can see you again.

You lift your head, meeting her gaze, and god—

She looks like something devotional.

Like she’s burning and melting and breaking and remaking herself in the same moment.

And then she cups your face.

Runs her fingers down the sharp edge of your jaw, down your throat, down the planes of your chest like she’s trying to learn you all over again.

‘My turn,’ she whispers.

You exhale. ‘Yujin—’

But she’s already pressing her lips to your palm.

A slow, wet kiss against the skin there, warm and reverent.

You tense, watching the way she does it—how her mouth lingers, how her breath spills against your hand like she’s praying into it.

Then another.

And another.

Each kiss deliberate. Each one softer than the last.

Your fingers twitch.

Your heart stutters.

And Yujin—

Yujin just smiles.

Like she knows what she’s doing to you.

Like she knows the effect of her lips, her mouth, the heat of her pressing into you like this.

Then she goes lower.

Tracing fire against your wrist. Down to your forearm.

She’s taking her time.

Like she knows what’s coming. Like she wants you to feel every second of it before she even starts.

Softly, she lowers herself to the shower floor, folding her legs beneath her like someone praying—like someone preparing for something sacred. Water cascades over her, tracing the delicate angles of her face, slipping down her shoulders, clinging to her lashes. She doesn’t blink it away.

She looks up at you instead.

‘Just so you know,’ she murmurs, fingers curling around your thigh, pressing just hard enough to make you feel it, ‘I haven’t had this for three years.’

Your breath catches.

‘You poor thing.’

She hums, tilting her head slightly, eyes flickering with something playful, something edged with heat. ‘If only you called.’

Her grip tightens on your shaft—subtle, knowing, cruel.

Your pulse slams into your ribs.

‘Regretting everything as we speak,’ you manage, voice rough, because god—three years of waking up alone, three years of knowing what her body felt like against yours and still having to live without it, three years of not having this—

Yujin presses her lips to your hip, slow, warm, reverent.

‘Don’t,’ she whispers, breath ghosting over your skin. ‘From now on, let’s not waste a single breath.’

And that was that.

No more lost time. No more distance.

She presses another kiss, right below your navel. Cheating.

Your entire body tenses, twitches, a sharp current running through you.

She notices.

She smiles.

‘This is punishment,’ she murmurs.

Your fingers twitch against the tile. ‘For what?’

She looks up at you, lashes wet and mussed and dripping, lips parted just slightly—ruinous.

‘For almost forgetting me.’

Your jaw tightens. ‘That’s blasphemy.’

‘Is it?’

‘Every waking moment, every—’

Her hand slides along your wet shaft. Tight. Destitution incarnate.

You stumble against the back wall.

She grins, a little smug, a little knowing, a little dangerous.

‘I don’t want excuses,’ she says softly.

And then—

Then she presses another kiss, open-mouthed, slow, dangerous, right where on the tip of your cock—collecting whatever desperation you had bottled up.

You let out a slow, shaky breath.

She hums against you. Then, another kiss.

‘This,’ she says, hands curling against your hips, ‘is mine.’

And god, you believe her.

You always have.

Her mouth forms a tight ring right on your tip. She’s sucking everything out of you. Caring not for a single second how much this ruins you, how your knees intend to buckle.  

The cool wall slides against your back, and her mouth gentles now—less tight, slower, deliberate. Her lips part, wet and swollen, spit-strung as they glide over the flushed head of you. A slick sound escapes her, obscene and tender. You feel every ridge of her tongue, every warm drag, the way her saliva pools and drips down the length of you. She moans softly, and the vibration travels straight to your gut.

‘Easy,’ you rasp, fingers threading into her hair—not to push, but to feel. To guide her rhythm, your thumb brushing the shell of her ear. ‘Just like that…’

She obeys, but not meekly. Her eyes flick up, dark and gleaming through her lashes, her lips a glistening ring around you. The head glistens under the shower’s spray, spit-slick and ruddy, and when she pulls back just to breathe, a thin strand of saliva stretches between her bottom lip and your tip. She watches you watch it snap.

‘Yujin—’

‘Shhh.’ Her breath ghosts over the wetness she’s made, cooling the heat. ‘Let me.’

Her tongue swipes the slit, slow, too slow, and your hips jerk. She laughs—a soft, husky thing—and catches the bead of precum with her thumb. Holds your gaze as she sucks it clean.

‘All those years,’ she murmurs, nuzzling the inside of your thigh. Her voice is a frayed ribbon. ‘You let this ache. Let it go untouched. Why?’

You tighten your grip in her hair, not harsh, but present. ‘You know why.’

She hums, lips pressing to the vein throbbing beneath the skin. ‘Tell me anyway.’

‘Because it was yours.’ The admission tears free, raw. ‘Even when you weren’t.’

Her breath hitches. For a heartbeat, her composure cracks—lips parting, eyes glassy. Then she surges forward, taking you deep, deep, until your tip brushes the back of her throat. Her nose presses into your pelvis, her cheeks hollowed, and the wetness is overwhelming. Spit spills down her chin, drips onto the shower floor. You watch, wrecked, as she works you with a reverence that borders on worship.

‘God—Yujin—’

She pulls off with a gasp, lips swollen and slick. ‘Look at me.’

You do. Her face is flushed, water clinging to her lashes, hair plastered to her neck. Ruin has never looked so soft.

‘Never again,’ she whispers, palm cradling your jaw. ‘You don’t starve yourself. Not of this. Not of me.’

You nod, breathless, and she smiles—a fragile, aching thing—before bending again. Her mouth is softer now, languid, savoring. Every suck, every lick, pours honey into your veins. You let her take you apart, let her rebuild you, until the world narrows to her lips, her hands, the spit-slick sounds of her devotion.

The climax coils, inevitable—a wildfire in your spine, a tremor in your thighs. You feel it there, the precipice, and your hands fly to her shoulders, gripping hard. ‘Yujin—wait—’

She resists at first, brows furrowed, lips sealed tight around you. But you tug her back gently, your cock slipping from her mouth with a wet pop, her lips swollen, glistening. Her confusion flickers only for a heartbeat before you fist your cock, rough and hurried, and the first hot stripe of release paints her cheek.

She gasps, eyes fluttering shut as the next pulse hits her chin, her throat, the tip catching her collarbone. Thick, pearly streaks splatter across her skin—her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, the bow of her top lip. A ragged moan tears from you as you empty yourself onto her, the mess pooling in the hollow of her throat, dripping down her sternum.

For a moment, she’s perfectly still, breath held, face tilted up as if in prayer. Then her tongue darts out, just once, catching the spill on her lip—not to taste, but to feel, to savor the proof. Her eyes open slowly, lashes sticky, gaze molten.

For a second, she just blinks.

One eye.

The other one is… well.

You watch her process it in real time.

Her lips part slightly, her breath still uneven, chest rising and falling as she takes in exactly what’s happened. Your release is everywhere—everywhere—glossing her cheekbones, slipping down the slope of her throat, pooling in the dip of her collarbone like some kind of offering.

She tilts her head. Blinks again.

‘Oh.’

Then she laughs.

A breathy, disbelieving sound, half-amused, half-are-you-kidding-me?

You’re still pressed against the shower wall, still trying to function, your brain short-circuiting between the mess you’ve made of her and the fact that she’s actually—laughing.

‘You—’ she starts, touching her cheek, then stopping, fingers hesitating before they smear through the mess, ‘—you got it in my hair.’

She looks up at you then, eyes bright, glistening—partly from you, partly from water, partly from the sheer absurdity of this situation.

You swallow, still breathless. ‘Uh.’

She blinks. A slow, lazy flutter of lashes.

Then her mouth quirks.

‘You should’ve warned me, you beast.’

You can’t help it—you laugh, too, scrubbing a hand down your face. ‘I tried. You didn’t stop—’

‘I was busy,’ she huffs, wiping at her cheek again. ‘And now I’m busy. Because look at me.’

You are.

You really, really are.

‘I mean—’ you gesture vaguely to her face, her throat, the trail of evidence marking everywhere she’s been—‘I think it’s a good look.’

She glares.

‘No, seriously. We could brand this. “Dewy Glow” or something. Sell it in high-end skincare stores. “Celebrity Secret.”’

She snorts, shoving at your thigh. ‘You absolute menace.’

And then—

‘Oh, wait.’

She freezes.

Her smile vanishes.

Her expression shifts into something far more serious.

‘Oh no.’

You blink. ‘What?’

She doesn’t say anything.

Just slowly, slowly, slowly raises a hand to her right eye.

You know what’s coming before she even speaks.

‘Oh my god, I can’t see.’

You wheeze. Actually wheeze.

She jabs a finger into your thigh. ‘Don’t—don’t laugh. This is serious. This is—I might never recover—’

‘Yujin.’ You’re still dying, but you reach for her anyway, cupping her face with both hands, thumbs swiping over her cheeks, carefully wiping away what you can. ‘Baby, blink—’

‘I am blinking.’ She’s being so dramatic about it, blinking furiously, tilting her face up to the water like it might cleanse her soul. ‘Oh my god. Oh my god.’

‘Okay, okay, come here—’

You guide her fully under the stream, hands in her hair, rubbing circles at her temples as she half-laughs, half-groans against your chest.

‘Three years, and this is how it goes?’

‘I mean,’ you murmur, fingers tracing down her jaw, ‘technically, this is a good thing. This means I really missed you.’

She gasps, smacking your chest. ‘That is not how this works.’

‘No, no, it is. You should be flattered.’

‘I am blinded.’

‘Listen, some people pay a lot of money for facials like this.’

‘Oh my god, shut up—’

She’s laughing now, still rubbing at her eye, still squinting slightly, but you tilt her face up, press your lips to her forehead, her nose, the water-warm curve of her cheek.

‘Here,’ you murmur, ‘let me see.’

She lets you, tilting her chin up, letting you wipe at her lashes, the bridge of her nose, the soft hollow under her eye. Your fingers are gentle, your touch slow, careful, as you rinse the last of it away.

Her hands find your ribs, gripping lightly, grounding herself.

‘I’m keeping score, you know,’ she murmurs, voice softer now.

You kiss her temple. ‘Yeah?’

She hums. ‘You owe me for this.’

You grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek. ‘I owe you?’

‘Mhm.’ Another soft blink, this one slower, more considering. ‘Big time.’

You exhale, pressing your forehead to hers. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

She pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes warm, searching.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

A beat.

Then she grins, pressing a quick, mischievous kiss to your lips.

‘Good.’

And then—

‘Now help me get this out of my hair, you absolute monster.’

You laugh, tilting her back under the water, already reaching for the shampoo.

You barely make it out of the shower before Yujin is already reaching for a towel, scrubbing at her hair like she’s trying to erase all evidence of your existence.

You watch her, arms crossed, towel slung lazily over your shoulder. ‘You know, I could help with that.’

She gives you a look. A very specific you-are-the-reason-I’m-in-this-mess look.

‘You’ve helped enough,’ she mutters, aggressively drying her face.

You grin. ‘Want me to dry your back?’

‘No.’

‘Sure?’

‘I don’t trust you.’

You press a hand to your chest, mock-wounded. ‘I am offended by this blatant accusation.’

‘You are plotting something. I know that face.’

‘I literally only have one face, Yujin.’

‘Yeah. And I know it.’

She sighs, shoving her towel at you. ‘Fine. You want to be useful? Dry my hair. But no funny business.’

‘Define funny business.’

She glares.

You chuckle, grabbing another towel, stepping behind her. She exhales as you gently towel-dry her hair, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into her scalp.

Her head tilts slightly, unconsciously leaning into your touch.

You knew she’d enjoy this.

She hums, closing her eyes. ‘Okay. Maybe you can be trusted.’

‘Told you.’ You press a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘I am a professional.’

‘A professional nuisance.’

‘A professional lover.’

She snorts. ‘Oh my god, shut up.’

You grin, setting the towel aside, reaching for the hairdryer.

She shifts slightly in her seat. ‘Wait—’

‘Hm?’

She peeks up at you, tilting her head back, cheeks warm. ‘...I like it when you do it slow. With your hands.’

You pause.

Look down at her.

Oh.

Oh.

You set the hairdryer aside. ‘You should’ve said so earlier, baby.’

She exhales, smiling, closing her eyes again as your fingers slip into her hair, raking through the damp strands, slow and careful.

This is— This is intimacy in its simplest form. You, standing behind her, fingers combing through her hair, working through knots with gentle patience. Her, sitting still, trusting you, letting herself be taken care of. ‘You’re soft,’ you murmur, pressing another kiss to her temple. ‘Mm.’ Her shoulders relax completely. ‘Just don’t mess up my parting.’ You chuckle. ‘I’ll do my best.’ It takes a while—because you like taking your time with her—but eventually, her hair is dry, loose waves tumbling down her back. She stretches, arms overhead, and that’s when you realize— She’s still wearing your shirt. The one she stole post-shower, hanging off her like it was made for this moment.

You stare. Your thoughts are not wholesome. She catches you looking. Her lips curve. ‘You’re plotting something again,’ she says, amused. ‘Maybe.’ ‘You need to control yourself—’ ‘Nope.’ She laughs, batting you away when you attempt to grab her. ‘No. No, sir,’ she warns, scooting to the bed. ‘You said you’d be good.’ ‘Did I?’ ‘Yes. You did. You explicitly said you’d behave.’ ‘And you believed me?’ She pauses. Then groans, rubbing her face. ‘God, I’m an idiot.’ You grin. And then you pounce.

She yelps, barely managing to roll away before you trap her under you, laughing as she dodges your grabby hands.

‘No,’ she gasps between laughs, ‘we are doing the normal nighttime routine first!’ ‘This is the routine.’ ‘No it is not!’ You chase her across the bed. She giggles, swats at you, then suddenly—miraculously—manages to flip you over, straddling you with a triumphant grin. ‘HAH.’ She plants her hands on your chest. ‘Got you.’ You blink up at her. Pause. Then smirk. ‘Yujin,’ you murmur, voice low. ‘Baby.’ Her smile falters. ‘…What.’

You cup her waist, slowly sliding your hands up, over the fabric of your shirt, over the nothing she’s wearing underneath.

She realizes. Her eyes widen. ‘Wait—’ And then you flip her back over. She gasps. ‘Noooooo—’ You laugh, pinning her down, watching as she squirms, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with warmth and amusement. This. This is the routine. Laughter. Teasing. The way you move around each other like gravity has always existed between you. She exhales, chest rising and falling beneath you, fingers curling around your wrists. Her voice, when she speaks, is softer. ‘You win,’ she murmurs. You press your forehead to hers. ‘I always do.’ She sighs dramatically. ‘Ugh. Fine. Manhandle me, then.’ She’s still beneath you, chest rising and falling, fingers curled loosely around your wrists where you’ve pinned them. Her breath is quick, her pulse erratic, and you know it’s not just because of the weight of you pressing her into the mattress—it’s everything. The warmth between you, the years leading to this, the understanding that what’s about to happen isn’t just want, isn’t just release—it’s reclamation.

She swallows, lips parting slightly, pupils wide and dark in the low light. The dark strands of her hair are fanned across the pillow, tangled from your hands, a mess you’d memorize blindfolded. There’s a flush blooming across her chest, creeping up the column of her throat, a heat that you feel mirrored in yourself.

You watch her, watch the way she shifts slightly beneath you, pressing up just enough to remind you she’s waiting, waiting, waiting. You could draw this out forever. But that’s cruelty. Or maybe, maybe, that’s worship.

You press your lips to the tip of her nose, then her cheek, then down, trailing a path over her jaw, her throat, the faint dip between her collarbones. You can feel the hum of her laughter before she even releases it, a small breath of amusement, her fingers twitching against your hold'

‘You’re teasing,’ she murmurs, voice wrecked already. ‘No,’ you answer, dragging your mouth lower, tasting the salt of her skin. ‘I’m remembering.’

Because you are. You’re remembering the way her body curls into yours when she’s overwhelmed. You’re remembering the tiny, trembling exhales she makes when your hands slide over the slopes of her ribs. You’re remembering that she loves when you take your time, that she loves to be adored, that she wants to feel every inch of you.

And she is so easy to adore.

You shift lower, your hands tracing slow, lazy patterns down her sides, feeling the way her muscles twitch beneath your touch. The shape of her—long lines, soft curves, skin warm and impossibly smooth beneath your lips.

Your name escapes her in a breath, a barely-there sound that settles somewhere behind your ribs, inside your chest, like it belongs there.

You kiss lower. Down, down. Your fingers slip between her thighs, ghosting over her bare glistening pussy, and her breath stutters, a sharp intake that punches straight through your gut. ‘Look at you,’ you murmur, dragging your knuckles up the inside of her goosebump-ridden thigh. ‘Fidgeting.’ She doesn’t answer. Just glares, lashes damp, lips parted, so achingly beautiful you feel winded.

‘Is that frustration?’ you tease, dragging your mouth back up, scraping your teeth over her hip bone. ‘It’s—’ She exhales, trying for control. Fails. ‘It’s you taking too long.’ You hum. ‘I thought you liked it slow.’ ‘I do,’ she grits out. ‘But I also like it when you—’

Her voice catches as your fingers press a little harder into her. A single stroke, just enough to make her body jolt, enough to make her curse under her breath, enough to feel the sticky wetness of her—inside.

Then you do it again. And again. Until her hips are moving against your touch, until her nails bite into your shoulders, until her breath is a series of broken, unsteady exhalations, ‘Yes, yes, oh fuck~’

You kiss her then. Hard. Deep. Drinking in every shiver, every sound, every breathless plea she won’t voice but you understand anyway.

And then— Then, finally— Her thighs part wider, welcoming you; knees hooking around your hips, heels digging into the small of your back. You press your shaft along her golden-soft navel, hard enough to get her whimpering under the heat of your shaft. You drag slowly along her soft—yet firm—navel, coursing the map lower and lower—until the nub responsible for her heat—all swollen and beautiful and pink—meets your tip. She lets out a sudden whimper; She glares, and you press a kiss on her temple once again—sorry baby, sorry. At the end of the map, you feel the slick heat of her cunt against the head of your cock, her entrance fluttering, pulsing, as you grind around the clit in slow, torturous circles. Precum smears her folds, mingling with her arousal, the glide obscenely wet. ‘Fuck,’ she hisses, nails raking down your spine. ‘Stop—stop toying—’ You catch her wrist, pinning it above her head again. ‘No.’ Your other hand grips the base of your cock, guiding it through her slit, the swollen head catching on her clit with every pass. She jerks, a broken moan tearing free, her hips bucking—but you hold firm, denying her friction. ‘You wanted slow. This is slow.’ Her cunt weeps, glistening, her inner lips swollen and flushed. You watch, transfixed, as your cockhead nudges her entrance, spreading her open incrementally. A single inch sinks in, the velvety grip of her walls clenching reflexively, and you groan through gritted teeth. ‘Christ’ She whimpers, her clit throbbing against your shaft as you retreat, dragging your tip through her folds again. ‘Please—’ Her voice cracks, tears spilling down her temples. ‘Just—fuck me—’ You lean down, lips grazing hers. ‘Where?’ She glares, chest heaving. ‘You know—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘Inside—’ ‘Inside what?’ You press forward, another inch sheathed, the stretch burning sweet. ‘Use your words, Yujin.’ Her thighs tremble. ‘My—my cunt.’ ‘Good girl.’ You sink deeper, the thick ridge of your cockhead massaging her front wall, that spongy patch of nerves that makes her sob. Her cervix yields, soft and pliant, as you bottom out, hips flush against hers. Her cunt clenches, a vice of slick muscle, and you swear, forehead dropping to her shoulder. ‘You’re gonna milk me dry—’ ‘Move,’ she demands, her ankles locking behind your back. ‘Move or I’ll—’ ‘You’ll what?’ You pull out almost completely, leaving just the tip seated, her clit rubbing against your shaft. ‘Beg?’ She keens, back arching, breasts pressed to your chest. ‘Yes—yes, god, please—’ You snap your hips forward, sheathing yourself in one brutal thrust. Her scream is muffled by your palm as you clamp it over her mouth, your other hand sliding between you to circle her clit. ‘Quiet,’ you growl, grinding deep. ‘You’ll take it. All of it.’ Her cunt ripples around you, fluttering in erratic pulses, her clit swollen and pebbled beneath your thumb. You fuck her with shallow, punishing rolls of your hips, each stroke dragging your cockhead over that sweet spot, her thighs shaking, her breath coming in ragged, choked gasps. ‘Look at me,’ you snarl, removing your hand from her mouth. She obeys, eyes glassy, lips bitten raw. ‘Whose cunt is this?’ ‘Yours—’ ‘And whose cock?’ ‘Mine—’ You slam into her, hilt-deep, your balls slapping her ass. ‘Louder—’ ‘MINE—’

The word cracks through the room, ragged and raw, and you reward it by slamming into her hilt-deep, your pelvis grinding against her clit as you still inside her. Her cunt clenches, a vice of slick heat, and you hiss through your teeth, your grip bruising on her hips. ‘Again,’ you demand, pulling out until only the swollen head of your cock remains lodged in her entrance. Her inner lips cling to you, reluctant to let go. She whines, back arching off the bed. ‘Yours—your cunt, your everything—’ You thrust back in, slow, savoring the way her walls ripple to accommodate you. ‘And what do you want?’ 'You,’ she gasps, nails carving half-moons into your shoulders. ‘Inside me—claiming me—’ 'How?' You drag your cockhead over that spongy patch of nerves again, deliberate, watching her thighs quake. 'Cum,' she begs, tears streaking her temples. 'Fill me—mark me—' You still, your hand sliding up to grip her throat—not restricting air, just owning. 'Ask nicely.' Her breath hitches. 'Please—please, I need it—need you to paint my insides white, need to feel it—' A dark thrill curls in your gut. You lean down, lips brushing hers. 'Since you asked so sweetly.' You start a brutal, precise rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that punch the air from her lungs. Each snap of your hips drags her clit against the base of your cock, each retreat leaves her clenching around nothing. Her cunt weeps, arousal slicking your shaft, the obscene slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. 'Look at me,' you snarl, tightening your grip on her throat. Her eyes fly open, hazy but obedient. 'You take me so well,' you murmur, your free hand sliding between you to circle her throbbing clit. 'This greedy cunt—my greedy cunt—sucking me in like you were made for it.'

She sobs, her walls fluttering. 'Yours—always yours—'

'Prove it.' You pin her wrists above her head with one hand, your other still working her clit. 'Come. Now.'

Her orgasm rips through her violently—back arched, cunt spasming, a scream tearing from her throat as she soaks your cock. You ride it out, fucking her through the pulses, your thrusts turning jagged, erratic.

'Mine,' you growl, feeling your balls tighten. 'Say it—say it—'

'Yours—god, yours—'

You slam into her one last time, hilt-deep, and hold. Your release surges—thick, hot ropes of cum flooding her cervix, painting her walls in stripes of white. She whimpers, oversensitive but greedy, her cunt milking every drop as you grind your hips in slow, possessive circles.

'Take it,' you grit out, watching her stomach quiver with the force of your spend. 'All of it.'

She nods, dazed, her thighs trembling around your waist. You collapse atop her, still buried inside, your lips finding the sweat-damp hollow of her throat.

—

Yujin’s lashes flutter against your chest, and there’s a moment where she seems to wrestle with something—embarrassment, vulnerability—but it dissolves when she feels your fingers tracing gentle circles against her back. She shifts, propping herself up just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and soft and entirely too honest.

‘You know,’ she whispers, voice almost shy, ‘I used to dream about this. You and me, like this. Just… here.’

‘Here?’ You brush a damp strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. ‘In bed, sweaty and gross?’

A soft laugh escapes her, warm and tender. ‘Yeah. Exactly this.’ Her fingertips graze your jaw, light as the touch of a memory. ‘I’d think about waking up to you, about how it’d feel to fall asleep in your arms. It’s stupid, I know—’

‘Not stupid,’ you murmur, cutting her off with a kiss—soft, lingering, like you’re trying to pour every unspoken word into it. ‘Never stupid.’

Her gaze softens even further, and she buries her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s something she needs to breathe. You feel her lips press against your pulse, a delicate kiss that sends warmth flooding through you.

‘I don’t want to let you go,’ she confesses, voice muffled. ‘Not tonight. Not ever.’

‘Then don’t.’ You trail your fingers up and down her spine, feeling the subtle curve of her back beneath your touch. ‘Hold on to me. I’m not going anywhere.’

She shifts, looping her arms around your neck, pressing her body flush against yours. The contact is warm, grounding, and you let yourself sink into it, let yourself feel the weight of her, the steady thrum of her heartbeat against your chest.

‘You’re too good at this,’ she mumbles, the faintest hint of a pout in her voice. ‘Making me feel safe. Like I belong here.’

You tighten your hold on her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. ‘You do belong here. With me. Always.’

Her breath shudders, and you feel her fingers clutch at your shoulders, like she’s afraid you might slip away. You press another kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek, each touch softer than the last.

‘Yujin,’ you whisper, and she looks up at you, eyes wide and glistening. ‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’

She smiles—a real, unguarded smile—and you feel the weight of it settle in your chest. She lifts herself up just enough to press a kiss to your lips, lingering, tender, unhurried. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like something that doesn’t need words to be understood.

When she pulls back, her face is flushed, her expression open and raw. ‘I love you,’ she says softly, the words so simple, so devastatingly sincere.

You cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. ‘I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.’

She settles against you, fitting herself into the curve of your body, her head resting against your chest. You stroke her hair, feeling the tension melt from her frame as she presses one last kiss to your heart.

The room is warm and heavy with the scent of you both, with the quiet weight of something real and unbreakable. You feel her breathing slow, her body growing heavy with sleep, and you let your own eyes drift shut, content to let the world narrow to the steady rise and fall of her breath.

And then—nothing. Just the two of you tangled together, warmth and closeness and the certainty that this, right here, is home.

—

a/n: Experimenting yet again. Hopefully the last sex scene wasn't too mortifying. But I really enjoyed writing this—Yujin's personality meshes really well with with the dialogue I was aiming to do (hopefully I succeeded). This was a half-finished draft that I managed to finish (through merging other drafts, other idols, et cetera et cetera), and now I don't have a single draft remaining; sooo... I don't know how this fares for the next fic (hopefully not too long..... haha..heh..he).

a/n 2: Much love for all the support: they never go unnoticed!!! <3333333

[strwberri-milk]

can i request the boys thinking mc is cheating bc she’s been acting off and hanging with other people, then they confront her but learn later that it’s something else that’s been going on (like her wanting to keep a problem hidden from them) angsty or fluffy ending it’s up to you im just craving angst 😓

Zayne doesn't want to directly confront you. He's terrified that somehow, he'll mess everything up and that right now, not knowing is better than confirming his fear. He'll just continue observing you for a bit, trying to figure out if there's something that can definitively point towards you actually having an affair. Your behaviour is strange but he won't feel too concerned until you start actively pulling affection away from him. That's when he's going to really start panicking. He doesn't know what he's done or said to make you take such a drastic step in your relationship and this is absolutely going to devastate him.

He'll talk to you one evening after you come home late. He tries to open it up by telling you that if it's something he's said or done to you then he's sorry and he promises he'll do whatever it takes to fix things between the two of you. It's you, and it's always been you. He can't even fathom being with anybody that isn't you. He'll ramble a little for once, not really able to accurately use his words as he tries to express how much he loves you.

You realise very quickly where he's going with all of this, immediately shutting him down as you tell him that you aren't seeing somebody else. He listens with bated breath to try and comprehend everything you're telling him, praying that you aren't lying to him because if you were, it'd definitely break him.

You'd probably have to ruin the surprise if you wanted him to feel fully secure after this conversation, especially since you also were hanging off of people when you normally don't seem to. He might feel a little insecure about your relationship for a while before settling into the routine again with you, but as long as you're wholly honest with him it'll pass fairly quickly.

Xavier wants to follow you around but he also knows it'd piss you off if he did. He'll just start paying more attention to events when the two of you are together and even more attention to things if it seems you're purposefully not inviting him to something. He's trying to understand why and what for, not wanting to directly accuse you but his jealousy definitely ramps up.

You'd have to talk to him as he slowly starts to escalate, becoming more pissy if you have plans with friends or when he responds poorly to you taking calls in his presence. He doesn't really say too much but he does make it very clear just how displeased he is with the look on his face or the way he practically grabs you whenever you're doing things with him.

He gets a little rougher with you overall - not in a painful way, in a distracted, irritated way. He doesn't want to hurt you on purpose and typically you don't really respond to this difference in pressure because it's nothing crazy but you can tell that he's starting to really internalise everything that's happening around him. When you do talk to him he listens with a furrow in his brow, trying to figure out if you're telling him the truth, or this is some elaborate lie for you to throw him off your scent.

He believes you pretty quickly but he is also going to be really skeevy about letting you do things without him for a bit. He just wants to spend time with you after all and after all this emotional turmoil you owe him a few stress-free dates.

Rafayel is not pleased. He makes it clear the second he thinks something is wrong by being colder and less affectionate with you. He isn't wholly above following you and figuring out who you're hanging out with, trying to figure out if there really is a chance that you are trying to have an affair.

You'd get some emotional whiplash from how differently he's acting, how he's making it clear that you've wronged him somehow but he isn't going to talk to you about it. He's avoidant, waiting for you to admit the truth. He's also patient, which means you could be iced out for weeks if you decide not to talk to him about what's happening.

He might spoil the surprise for himself if he goes fully into surveillance after which he'd just tell you that he figured out what you were hiding from him. You'd be a little disappointed but also more concerned as to how he managed to figure it out without tipping you off. He won't tell you at all about how he got the information - just that he did.

If he decides not to stalk you a little you'd have to ask him why he's so mad at you. He'd tell you that he's just treating you the same way you've been treating him, and that as far as he's concerned, this is deserved. You'd have to tell him the truth and why you've been hiding all this information from him - after which he will brighten up significantly. He'll say something about how he's never doubted you, yadda yadda yadda but he's definitely more clingy now than before from his nerves finally starting to settle.

Sylus doesn't want to monitor you either and decides to give you the benefit of the doubt. He's fairly secure in your relationship and knows that he hasn't done anything to make you want to cheat but he does feel himself faltering if you're becoming prone to laughing at your phone or trying to hide it from him. He won't ask for it but you can see that he's starting to get suspicious.

He would leave it alone until you reveal to him your surprise. By then he's still feeling fairly anxious but when you reveal that your behaviour was all just a result of you trying to plan something for him then he'll relax a little, thanking you for the effort you went through. You can tell that he's very glad that you've finally come clean when he holds your hand tightly, practically clinging to you as he thanks you.

He'll plan some more elaborate dates for you after the reveal, making it clear that he's missed your attention being solely on him. You don't really mind though since he's basically throwing money at you, spoiling you silly and reminding you just how much he's willing to do for you.

[macleod]

so, funny thing, I rarely ever mention it, but Al Capone is my great-great uncle, and according to my great-grandmother he was "the nicest, funniest, and most loving of anyone in the entire f/Family". Everyone loved him if you were decent. He just really hated cops, the government, politicians, and racists.

He had a spectacular original spaghetti recipe that I need to dig out, because he was supposedly an excellent cook, and she would fight to mention that he didn't start the soup kitchens, or the literacy clubs, as a way of only commiting tax evasion (as most documentaries and historians love to say, but likely didn't hurt his financial endeavors), but that he got into the whole mob thing only because he wanted to protect the community, get them some good food, and ensure they were literate and able to hold themselves higher against a system that worked against the people.

He was anti-prohibition, pro-sex work, pro-womens rights, and assumed to be anti-racist (for the time, he was ralso ather notable for hiring and including other minorities, including african-americans in family gatherings, at his clubs, in his security, and working at his home, and both his cook and butler spoke at length how well he treated them and paid far higher than expected – keep in mind, he was an Italian in Chicago, they considered Italians on the same level in some regards, so he would be possibly understanding of the plight).

While he was openly 'anti-communist' and pro-capitalist, I believe he would be considered the opposite today, considering that if you read most of what he's said, he would be more akin to a modern socialist and would likely be staunchly anticapitalist, but it was the 20s and the confusion is understandable.

Was he a murderer? Not sure, on a personal level, he certainly had others to commit atrocities, but according to my great grandmother "he couldn't hurt a fly".

Now, keep in mind he made nearly all of his revenue from bootlegging hospitality, during prohibition to the tune of hundreds of millions a year, an industry that was highly illegal and targeted by the government, I call it hospitality as he was quoted as saying: "When I sell liquor, they call it bootlegging. When my patrons serve it on silver trays on Lake Shore Drive, they call it hospitality".

Some additional quotes:

"I have always been opposed to violence, to shootings. I have fought, yes, but fought for peace. And I believe I can take credit for the peace that now exists in the racket game in Chicago. I believe that the people can thank me for the fact that gang killings here are probably a thing of the past."

"I'm tired of gang murders and gang shootings. It's a tough life to lead. You fear death at every moment, and worse than death, you fear the rats of the game who'd run around and tell the police if you don't constantly satisfy them with money and favors."

"I want peace, and I will live and let live. I'm like any other man. I've been in this racket long enough to realize that a man in my game must take the breaks, the fortunes of war. I haven't had any peace of mind in years. Every minute I'm in danger of death."

"Why not treat our business like any other man treats his, as something to work at in the daytime and forget when he goes home at night? There's plenty of business for everybody. Why kill each other over it?"

A fairly decent article from 2016 that I just found has the title of "Al Capone caused less death and destruction than today’s capitalists" and within that he let this piece of information out, which I feel is entirely authentic from everything I've ever read, and heard, on him:

In my youth, I met several men who had once worked for Al Capone, and every one of them liked him. They talked about Capone offering them jobs during the Great Depression, when it was difficult for most workers to find employment. All of them had driven trucks into Canada, loaded up with booze, and brought it back to warehouses in the USA.

And, since its Valentines Day, the anniversary of the "St. Valentines Day Massacre" that shook the country, and took the lives of seven people (if only they knew what happens every day in America, 96 years later...), there is very little evidence that he was the orchestrator, and in fact, several biographers now believe it was someone hellbent on revenge against him.

Now, I am not going to deny that he likely did some incredibly wrong things, he absolutely did, but given everyone I know, have read, and have seen from him, he seems decent enough given the circumstances.

It's hilarious to me that Al Capone was an amazing tipper. I get why it took so long to catch him.

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 5 - what are people's first impressions of you ?

masterlist / ko-fi

my last post : your 2025 main lesson and themes.

Pile 1

10 of cups, King of Swords, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords, 4 of Wands, The Sun, The Lovers, Death

Mischevious, Cunning, Manipulative in a flirtatious way ??, flirtatious, funny, Victorious, Happy, Fun to be around, Doesn’t take responsibility for things, Playful, Too unserious, Hot and sexy, Hot n Fun, Short n Sweet, Wet n Wild, If you’re a woman, people might think you easily get super wet (what is wrong with people respectfully 💀), Femme fatale/fboy boy, You look like trouble pile 1 not gonna lie lmaoo, Too hot to handle, People assume you’re a cheater or just kind of sneaky but all of that dark energy comes out somehow really playful ?? At first glance you exude strong Gemini and Aries energies  : kind of childish and playful, really “oopsie daisy”. They’re impression is that you’re the type of person that plays dumb when you get called out for your misbehavior. People might think you are commitment phobic, A player but people don't even mind to be heartbroken if it's you : “I don’t care if I get played by them tbh” people lowkey want to get heartbroken by you (people are crazy 🤡) 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re a firecracker. Pile 1 I keep on seeing Maddy from Euphoria and Megan Thee Stallion’s Realer era, Pimpin is a song that plays in the background when you’re walking in the street lmaoo You look like you're always in a badass edit

I am hearing the lyrics “she bad mix the ratchet with the classy ooh so bad i just couldn’t let her past me no i told her “shawty, you so right but you so wrong”. Pile 1, you definitely got that aaah (reference to that one tiktok sound of She Knows - Ne-yo feat Juicy J and T pain). You literally make people do double takes on you.

People directly assume if you came into their life, you would ruin them but they would consent to their own self destruction because of how hot you are.

People's first impressions of you is that you’re a master manipulator, but not a horrible one that genuinely leaves others traumatized forever. You’re flirty, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, but it's mostly people's delusions and projections that hurt them more than anything. They just assume things when you never meant anything, and honestly I don't even think you give people mixed signals. People mix them up by themselves. Like you smile at them just out of politeness and people are like “ damn they're into me or what ?!” What kind of people are around you Pile 1 ? Never met this level of delusion in my life 😭☠️

Something extremely strange about those impressions is that I don’t think people think you’re toxic ?? Which is a bit weird because I have been only describing manipulative behaviors… Pile 1, your energy is really complex to grasp and it stirs intense and contradictory reactions inside people when they first meet you.

I am getting people make a lot of assumptions about you because it’s not just first impressions. People project a lot on you, probably because you are really attractive and people seem to not be able to think a hot and sexy person can be a good and kind hearted person ??? These people are projecting hard literally

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a really sunny person, a really bright and happy go lucky person. 

They also instantly get that you probably got a lot of suitors and people at your feet, waiting for their chance with you. 

When they talk to you, I feel like people get really insecure and they instantly start to compare your life (i mean the 1000 assumptions of what your life is like that they created in their heads on the spot...) and compare it to their own lives. They compare your eloquence, your energy, your aura, the energy and the vibes you exude with their lack of charisma and presence. I don’t know if you’re around a lot of insecure people but be careful, some of them are secretly waiting for your downfall because of how jealous they are of you.

The type of people that are jealous of you instantly when they first see you are generally the same gender as you. If you’re a man, they compare for example how healthy your hair are, how women are easily attracted to you and follow you everywhere you go . Not going to lie it’s giving Chad VS Nice guy/ Incel kind of dynamic. Like they're internal dialogue would probably something like : “ Nice guys finish last anyways… I am sure he treats girls bad and is a player and girls still love him…It's so fucking unfair.” (such a low vibrational energy yikes 🤢). If you’re a girl, they compare your body, your smile, your makeup and how your outfits fit you perfectly , how their own crushes seem to like you more than them YET you don’t even pay mind to them (the jealous people’s crushes) lol 

Pile 1, I would advise you to be extra protective of yourself and your energy. Your spirit irritates a lot of people’s demons.

I find it interesting because this pile is heavy on gender dynamics, power of attraction,... Most of you here are probably straight, or bisexual at least. I don’t see much queer action going on. You also have a really young and fresh energy so you are probably in your 20s.

You incite a lot of hate, jealousy and envy from the same gender. And you incite a lot of obsession, desire and admiration from the opposite. You incite so much jealousy just by your presence, and it happens almost systematically and starts right when people meet you for the first time. I feel like you might have lilith somewhere prominent in your chart, first house, harshly aspected with your ascendant, also Neptune dominance.

People look at you and they instantly think to themselves “this person should star in a movie, what are they doing working in at the local Walmart ??” or “they should be in the cover of vogue. Why are they in college ? They're too hot to be sitting in a classroom all day ?!!” 

Something I am getting from all this channeling is that people's first impressions of you are generally extreme, and mostly false 💀 Different people have different assumptions about you, but everyone seem to agree that you first come across as a heartbreaker and a player. Basically pile 1, you look like trouble at first glance.

The quote I got for you is a beautiful one from Carl Jung : “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls”

MUSIC : Pimpin by Megan Thee Stallion / Ne-yo feat Juicy J, T-pain - She Knows (Remix) 2014

Pile 2

Ace of Wands Rx, 5 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 6 of Swords, 2 of Swords, 8 of Cups, The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re really closed off and standoffish. Really protective over your energy, your time and your space. You appear somehow aggressively defensive, really “get out of my way bitch” type of energy. 

People’s first impressions are that you’re holding on to a lot of pain and hurt which, in result, makes you really hostile. People can see at first glance that you have been through a lot of negative experiences in life, which made you in return cold and distant. 

Pile 2, you give the energy of a black cat, and you hiss at any person trying to approach you too closely. You really have that lone cat energy.

You have the vibes of someone that bites back. I am hearing the audio “Get your fucking dog bitch!! “ / “It don’t bite.” / ‘YES IT DO !!!”. People think you will jump on them at any given moment if they say something that you don’t like,...lol

When they first meet you, people try to be really careful with their words because they are scared that if they say something wrong, they will cross you. If you’re with a group or someone else when people first meet you, they will avoid, out of fear, to directly engage with you, and will observe how your friends or the people that are with you handle you so they can do the same. 

Pile 2, people’s first impressions of you is that you are scary as hell lmaoo

You give people the impression that you’re judging them in a way. You might unintentionally side eye people a lot. You make people uncomfortable with your standoffish attitude. 

Now, this pile is divided in two sub-types : 

you are perceived exactly like what I described above : really bitchy vibes, no bullshit energy. You’re protective of your energy because you have a lot of self-respect and don’t want people to disrespect the way some did to you in the past. 

The second type, you are like this not really because of self-respect but because there is an underlying insecurity, something particularly broken inside of you. It feels almost like you put up this front of confidence and assertiveness and people usually can see right through it. If you’re faking it until making it a lot of people upon their first impressions pick up on that. 

These two sub-types can be blended too, like you could be both at the same time or perceived as both at the same time. (I don’t know if this makes sense )

People’s first impressions of you is that you are really authoritative and controlling. You probably have a really tight schedule that you don’t like to change for anyone. You look like you don’t like to compromise or work in groups. Their first impressions of you are also that you don’t really like change, you don’t like incompetency, and that you have a really good skincare routine (??random as hell lmaoo). 

People think you eat healthy boring food, like bland porridge for breakfast and a bland salad with almost no seasoning, that you snack on overtly expensive cereal and protein bars that taste like grass (people are really funny i swear this is so hyper specific)

I think their first impressions get them to make a few assumptions on you for a few minutes, but then they move on with their lives like “well i don’t know good for them” or “let them be”. People don’t want to get too carried away in the impressions they have of you and the assumptions they make from it because they don’t want to disturb your peace. Like you have an energetic protection that gives them a limited amount of time to ponder on who you might be. Like I am seeing a system almost like the one in Inside out, a little creature, a fairy or a guardian angel, coming into the person’s mind and starting the timer the moment they stare at you or interact with you for the first time with their foot tapping on the floor and their eyebrows frowned, looking over their watch each second ticking with growing impatience. People feel like they have to go through tests to be allowed to think of you deliberately. 

Pile 2, you have really protective guardian angels damn ! They tolerate no bullshit congrats!!

QUOTE : healed people hear differently

SONGS : Focus - Saweetie / Plan B - Megan thee Stallion / Here - Alessia Cara

Pile 3

King of pentacles, The Star, 7 of swords, 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, 10 of Wands, 5 of Cups, Death

When I first started shuffling for your pile, High Maintenance of Saweetie started playing. Pile 3, you’re standing on business ! It was especially this lyric that stood out to me : 

“See I'ma rider but nah I ain't a die

'Cause I wouldn't take a bullet for a n***a, that's a lie”

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a workaholic with all your life figured out. You have a clear path of where your life will take you. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re extremely busy and productive, but, despite that, you are not a robot that does things mindlessly and repetitively. No, you are your own unique person, you have a clear and  higher vision, you seem like a complex individual with a mind of your own.

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a complex individual, with many layers. Instantly, people want to get to know you and get closer to you. They want to know your backstory, and what led you to be so passionate about everything you do today. They want to know how you seem to manage everything in your life so gracefully. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a deep soul that learned to make peace with the lighter side of life. You know when to let go and have fun, and when to cling onto things and be serious about things. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re beautiful, I am even hearing “striking”. 

People perceive your beauty as being ethereal. It’s not an instagram model type of pretty or handsome, it’s more sophisticated, it’s unique, it is just “you”. 

Maybe a lot of you are not conventionally attractive, you have a particular physical trait, something that makes you stand out instantly. It usually disturbs people a bit when they first meet you like “Oh!...”. I don’t know if you get what I am trying to say lol It is like you’re a woman with really thick and black body hair, but, instead of hiding them or shaving them, you just let them be there. You don’t really care much whether people see them or not. It could also be that you have back acne, and this does not stop you from wearing tank tops or just let them be visible. You don’t try to make a bold statement by doing this, because you’re just like “It’s natural what can I do about this ? It is what it is.” . People immediately pick up on this type of mentality from you. People want you to teach them how to do it. I am hearing “Teach me your ways master” lol . You seem really wise and you know how to not take everything personally. Really an old soul. 

Back to the physical trait thing (because I think people scrutinize your face a lot when they first meet you), you might have a roman nose, or you might look really “ethnic” or “exotic” to people. Maybe you’re a POC in a predominantly white environment, or you just look quite different from your peers.

-> Ok guys, I am picking up on something INSANE. People who would usually bully others for that physical trait you have, sense your strong self-respect and energy and are instantly subconsciously afraid to make fun of you or to try to belittle you. This is actually so fucked up what… I don’t know what is going on in this entire reading but a lot of low vibrational energies were channeled. Anyways. I feel like you grew up being the weird kid that grew into your features and personality, and now, retired high school bullies (not the one that bullied you, if it happened, just general retired high school bullies) lowkey sense they would have bullied you in the past if you were in the same class as them but now can’t do it because it’s lame and not socially acceptable for adults to do shit like that.

People are kind of scared to sit in your energy for too long when they first meet you and have their impressions about you because they feel like their energies are not high vibrational enough for them to be allowed to sit in your powerful energy for too long ?? Lol You intimidate people a lot but they don’t know why, they just feel the urge to shut the f up in your presence and just bathe in your energy silently ?? Weird 

Okay Pile 3, keep it up , never let people dim your light ! Your soul has a powerful pure essence that will  take you far in life.

QUOTE : My soul has traveled long and far to find yours

SONGS : Froot - MARINA / High Maintenance - Saweetie / Icy - ITZY

[prettylynnpup]

The Roommate

"C'monnn... Why is it taking it this long to come home?" You wondered aloud to yourself. Your roommate usually gets home from work around 7, and you watch your shows and eat together around 7:30. It's now 7:45 and there's absolutely no sign of it.

"Is something wrong? Is it safe? God I hope nothing happened-"

You're cut off by a *knock* at the door, proceeded by the jingling of keys. It usually knocks when it gets home to let you know that it's there. Thank god, it's home!

"You're here! I was waiting so long Lynn, what kept you?" You hopped out of your seat at the couch and excited walked toward the door.

"Wait, you actually waited for me?" There's a bit of surprise in its voice. Why is Lynn surprised you waited for it? Of course you did! Routine is very important to you, and you would keep telling yourself that "routine" is the only reason you waited. It's embarrassing to have feelings for your roommate, after all.

"Uh, yeah. We normally have dinner at 7:30 and I was just starting to get worried... I m-mean, you know how important these routines are to me!" You looked at it with those doe eyes of yours. You really wanted to hammer home how upset you were about your routine being missed without warning.

"Okay, look, I know I was gone but I promise it was just to get gas. First I stopped at that place on Mangrove, but they were having issues with their card readers so I had to go all the way to Lowans Drive."

"Out to Lowans??? Was there really not another gas station closer?" It doesn't often happen that the gas stations aren't working around here, so you're extremely surprised to hear that Lynn had to go somewhere 20 minutes away from here just for gas.

"Yeah... Regardless of where I went or how long it took, I'm gonna make it up to you, okay?" Lynn promised. You suddenly realize that it's been holding a bag this whole time.

"Hey, uh, what's in that bag?"

Lynn taps your forehead. "Don't worry about it."

Worry about what? What were we talking about?

"What do you want for dinner, hon?" Lynn asks. You blush a little at the pet name, and struggle to bring your mind to the question at hand.

"Uh, what options do we have?" You'd rather know what you're working with so you can make an informed decision.

"Well, there's those leftover shrimp tacos, the rotisserie chicken, ramen, hot dogs, or we could run out somewhere together if you'd like," Lynn lists for you.

"Can we finish off those shrimp tacos? I'd rather fish not sit in our fridge for too long." You reminisce on the Tuna Salad incident... What a terrible day that was to have a working nose.

"Absolutely, do you wanna set up Jojo while I cook?" Lynn asks.

"Yeah, I can do that." You answer, setting off on your respective tasks.

-

You've both settled in for dinner and are eating while watching anime. It's a very comfortable silence shared between you and Lynn - you've done this hundreds of times before, after all.

"Hey, uh, I'd like to explain the real reason I was late."

You look over at it. The real reason?

"It wasn't to get gas?" You'd been so willing to just believe it, so it almost hurts a bit that it lied to you.

"It wasn't." Lynn pulls out the bag from earlier. Opening it and pulling out the contents, you see a collar, leash, and edibles.

"I was hoping that we could, maybe, try something tonight?" It looks at you so sweetly, but you can tell there's something nefarious going on under that look.

"T-try what?" You stammer back. Fuck, the implications of this have you flustered. What in the world would Lynn want to 'try' with you with those three items?

Lynn taps your forehead again. It gets a bit harder to think. H-how did it do that?

"Well, I was hoping to, maybe uh, have you as my pet tonight?" Lynn shakes the collar and edibles at you invitingly.

Has it been researching your fucking kinks? How did it know to get edibles *and* a collar and leash? You didn't know how it knew, but you were definitely turned on at the idea. Oh fuck you still haven't responded...

"Uhm. I-I uh... M-maybe, w-we could try that..." You're stuttering over your words so bad. It definitely knows how bad you want it. Fuck this is so embarrassing...

"Pet, I know how long you've wanted me for. We share a bed, so I see the dirty things you look up at night. And don't think I didn't notice you researching 'how to stop being into your roommate' a couple days back. I know how bad you fucking want this, so please just..."

She taps your forehead one more time. "Give in."

"Y-yes mommy. P-please let me be your pet mommy." The words spill out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. It was like your deepest desires were being pulled out of you by force... Not that you really minded.

"Good pet!~" Lynn locks the collar around your neck, then puts the leash on it. Almost instinctively, you've put yourself on all fours. Lynn looks into your eyes, and holds out the edibles toward you.

"Does puppy want a treat?~"

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[clovdgyu]

#rafayel x m!reader #smut, fluff #the new lds memories seriously has me in a chokehold. so i made this

#hard and vanilla sex, friends to lovers trope, rafayel is possessed by an incubus, unprotected sex, creampie, rafayel moans a lot, lore-wise rafayel which means he has two dicks (i mean he's a lemurian and a mermaid so...), i'd like to think ebb day is when rafayel becomes in heat lol, foreplay, some mild choking, rafayel's scales hehe, pet names, a bit of blackmail and manipulation, some kind of DUBCON, overstimulation, double penetration, cockdrunk reader, belly bulge

your eyes turned to look at the other male who suddenly dropped down to the floor, placing a hand on his head as he held onto the chair for support. "rafayel! are you okay?" you asked the other male who was whining at the pain.

you looked at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. you hummed in panic, thinking of a solution before deciding to get him a glass of water. "fuck. you should've told me you needed to go to the ocean or whatever. let me start a bath for you."

just as you were about to give it to him, the moment you turned around, you were surprised when you saw him just looking down at you. in your shock, you accidentally dropped the cup and spilled the water.

"rafayel? are you finally doing okay? sit down," you told him, guiding him towards the sofa but was stopped when he held onto your arm and pulled you towards him. "wh--raf? what is this?"

the purple-haired male smirked and looked into your eyes, using his other hand to trace along the line of your lips. "hm? and who do we have here? can i have the honor in knowing your name, pretty boy?"

the confusion was evident in your eyes as you tilted your head to the side, thinking the other male was just making fun of you. "what the hell? cut this out, rafayel. it's me, m/n," you answered, looking up at the other male. "what is with this strength? were lemurians usually this strong?"

a curious and mischievous glint in his eyes made you gulp. "m/n, huh? you must be the guy he—" all of a sudden, he slapped himself which surprised you, "--you goddamn psycho, get out of my body!"

what the hell is going on? you thought to yourself as you looked at the other male who was...talking to himself? slapping his face over and over until his cheeks were red. deciding to end this madness, you shouted, "stop! can you just tell me what the hell is going on here? and why are you hurting yourself?"

rafayel let out heavy breaths as he looked at you before removing his arms from you and moved towards the sofa which made you follow him unconsciously. as you two sat down, he began to talk, "i am an incubus."

you let out a scoff. "uh huh, yeah. and i'm thomas. now stop with this pranks," you said. you were just about to move away but realized you weren't able to move. "what-"

"i'm serious. i indulge in the desires and pleasures of any men i see and unfortunately, this man has suppressed feelings," he stated, pointing at himself then smirked as if to say he was confident with something. "which is why i will help him."

"help him? why?" you asked him, confused.

the incubus (in rafayel's form) let out a sigh as he crossed his legs. "because he's currently in the verge of death. if he gets no action tomorrow, he's bound to die," he told you, making you confused yet again.

he pointed towards the calendar and saw that the next day was encircled red. that's when it hits you. "ah...it's ebb day. but he's always survived on his own. was it actually killing him? i never knew," you asked him.

his demeanor changed yet again before he shook his head and looked at you with a frown. "m/n, don't believe a word this demon says. i will be fine."

"fine, my ass! you'll die for fuck's sake. now, m/n, you wouldn't want that, won't you?" the demon told you, looking at you expectantly. it was obvious you were debating, looking at how you nibbled on your lip and eyes were practically quivering.

you let out a sigh before nodding. "alright. i'll help him."

the next day, as you expected, rafayel was heating up and you were there to help him. "wh-what the fuck, dude? this hurts as fuck," the incubus stuttered as he held onto his stomach.

you were already in your robes, ready to give yourself to your lemurian friend. "rafayel, i'm ready," you told him, the other male looking at you with hazy eyes as he sat up weakly.

you got on the bed and crawled yourself towards him, straddling him as you place your hands on his shoulders, blushing. "j-just so you know, this will only happen every ebb day a-and...this is my first time. i've never been on the receiving end."

a simple hum was heard from the other male before he moved to lean his head onto you neck, taking in your sweet scent, placing small kisses as he moved along your neck. you covered your mouth with one hand, stifling your moans.

"don't stop yourself from letting out those sounds, sweetie. i want to hear you," the incubus stated as he pulled you closer towards him, slowly grinding his erect dick onto your--wait, why were you feeling two dicks?

"what's..." you voiced out, pulling back before looking down at him.

he let out a deep chuckle as he looked up at you. "guess he has two dicks. didn't quite expect that as well," he stated before going back to your neck. "you smell so fucking good."

you were just about to protest but then you felt his hand adjust your robe to get your leaking cock out and began jerking you off. "w-wait, i haven't touched myself in a while. i-i might cum easily," you told him, but he didn't do anything, instead he continued his assault on your neck.

he jerked you off as he moved to the other side of your neck, placing love bites and hickeys as he did. "r-rafayel," you called out to him, hands latching onto the other male's hair. "i-if you keep doing that, i-i might--"

"you can cum as much as you like."

rafayel's voice near your ears was like hearing the symphony of the angels, quite ironic. "oh god," you let out, pulling him closer as you began to buck your hips, fucking yourself into his hand.

he let out an amused chuckle as he jerked you off in rhythm, trying to make you cum. "what a needy bitch. do you really want to cum that badly, huh?" he stated, using his thumb to tease the head of your cock that was already leaking pre-cum.

your moans began to grow louder. getting conscious of it, you buried yourself in the other male's neck as you stifled your moans, biting on your bottom lip.

"what did i tell you, hon?" he stated, stopping his movements as he looked at you, earning him a whine from you.

"wh-why'd you stop? i was just about to cum," you complained, brows furrowed as you looked down at him.

the purple-haired male only chuckled as he grinned, placing a kiss on your cheek before he whispered, "just let those pretty moans out, baby boy. it'd feel better that way, trust me."

then, he began to jerk you off once again. his hand was so big that it practically engulfed your whole cock and it made you feel so good. your toes curled at the pleasure as the once denied climax began to crash into you again. "ah fuck! oh my--rafayel, i'm gonna cum."

the man nodded as he placed kisses all over your neck, licking and biting as his hand began to jerk you off faster. "cum for me, m/n. do it."

and just like that, you let out a pleasured cry as you threw your head back, cumming on the other man's hand and splattering some on his toned stomach. "a-ah! cumming..!"

rafayel continued to jerk you off, slowing down once you came down from your high. "that felt good now, did it?" he asked you which you answered with a nod. he let out a chuckle before he let out a pained whine.

"r-rafayel? are you okay?" you asked him.

and then all of a sudden you found yourself beneath him, pinned down on his king-size bed. the usual soft and calm look on rafayel's eyes were replaced with something else. as if he has finally snapped and had enough. "fuck, you're just too sexy."

all you could do was stare up at the other male as he stared down at you, wanting to devour you right then and there. "a-are we...gonna do it?"

cute. rafayel thought as he roamed his eyes around your body, undoing the robe's belt and finally seeing you in your naked glory. "shit. so delectable," he murmured to himself before leaning down, latching his lips onto your nipples.

the suddenness made you flinch (in a good way), placing your hands onto his hair. "th-that tickles—ah! w-wait," you cried out. rafayel, wanting to hear more of you, began to jerk you off once again as he prodded his middle finger against your hole, using your own cum as lube. "no! r-rafayel, i just came!"

"i know you can still cum for me, sweetie. i need to get you ready for my cocks," he said before taking your nipples into his mouth again, licking and biting before moving to the other.

the pleasure was too much for you to handle, it was far too overwhelming. not a second later, the other male inserted his finger inside your hole which made you yelp. "relax, m/n."

you followed his instructions, but all you could focus on was rafayel's mouth on your nipples and his hand that was jerking your hard cock. "r-rafayel. oh fuck," you moaned out, pulling on his hair as he gave you the pleasure you needed.

it took you a moment before you realized that scales were showing on his body. you touched them unconsciously, earning you a hiss. that made you flinch before looking up at him, eyes teary and hazy. "you're seriously turning me on. no wonder this man likes you a lot."

what?

you weren't even given a second to ponder what he just said as he finally entered a second finger, his fingers pistoning inside your hole, preparing you for his big cocks.

rafayel's lips moved up, towards your collarbone, towards your neck then back down onto your chest. he knew how to make you feel so good. as he continued his assault on your nipples and his hand on your cock, he continued to finger your ass.

your moans began to grow louder in volume. "rafayel, it feels—agh!" you let out a yelp, clenching onto the purple-haired male's fingers as he hit a certain spot inside you. "th-that felt strange."

the lemurian smirked as he used his tongue to flick your nipples over and over, the ticklish yet pleasurable feeling making you moan louder. "this?" he asked you before pressing on that same spot again.

this made you throw your head back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as your eyes practically twitched. "quit it! p-pressing on it...ah!"

rafayel heeded no mind to your protests as he pressed onto your prostate ever now and then. he inserted another finger whoch makes it three. he hummed, "you're taking my fingers quite well, m/n. am i making you feel good?"

the question made your mind go haywire as you tried to answer, but all you could do was nod. his fingers were quite long and it could reach the perfect spots inside you which drove you crazy. "use your big boy words, hon."

damn, how can someone be so alluringly sexy yet soft at the same time. you gulped, "y-yes. it feels good."

"that's good to hear," he stated before he began to finger your hole faster, making your toes curl in pleasure. the pleasure on your nipples, cock, and ass was all too overwhelming.

your moans became ragged as you neared your climax. but just as you were about to cum, rafayel stopped whatever he was doing and pulled away, smirking. a whine escaped your lips as you looked at him, watery eyes and cheeks warm. "why do you keep stopping when i'm about to cum."

"cause it's fun tormenting you. and you would probably be asleep by the time we're done here since you're tired," he stated, but you just glared at him.

the other male placed his hands beside your head, looking down at you. "i guess you're finally ready," rafayel stated as he leaned back, using one hand to jerk his two dicks. the size alone was enough to scare you.

"th-that's going inside me? that'll never fit, rafayel. it's too big," you tried to reason with him, hut all he did was growl as he rolled his eyes. "did you just roll your eyes at me?"

he just hummed as he lined his cock towards your hole yet you kept pulling away. fed up, he growled and placed a hand on your neck, choking you. "do you want him to die or not?" he asked.

you shook your head in response. "no...i can't do that," you answered, but sighed as you looked up at him. "fine, just do it slowly."

the other male let out a whispered 'good' before he held onto his cock, slowly entering. you were just about to tell him something but he suddenly inserted his whole cock in. this made your cry out in pleasure, cumming on the spot at how his cock brushed against your prostate.

"fuck! relax, sweetie. you're gonna snap my dick off," he stated, basking in the pleasure of seeing you make a mess of yourself, blabbering and all as you threw your head back, gripping the sheets tightly as your curled your toes and arched your body.

rafayel's eyes turned manic as he placed his hands on your hips, groaning at your tight heat. "shit, you feel so good, m/n," he said as he thrusted inside you harshly, wanting to see you writhe and quiver in pleasure.

the other male leaned down towards you, placing hickeys and love bites on your neck. you let out loud moans which rafayel loved. you placed your hands onto his back, scratching it out of pleasure, eyes rolling back.

"oh, fuck! your ass feels so fucking good, babe. taking me so well," he stated out as he threw his head back, fucking you with no remorse. you buried your nose into his neck, trying to bite back your moans as you engulfed the man in your embrace.

this obviously annoyed the other male as he placed a hand under your chin, making you face him. "what did tell you about holding in your moans, babe? i want to hear you."

"i-it's embarrassing," you answered him, feeling your cheeks warm up.

the man chuckled, amused. "i like hearing them, m/n. moan for me, please?" rafayel pleaded, placing his hands back onto your hips as he began to fuck you once again.

you nodded at him, but still stifled your moans. wanting to hear more of you, he began to jerk you off and he thinks you liked being jerked off cause the moment he did, you began to whimper and moan so loudly. "yes, just like that, baby. let those pretty noises out."

his thrusts gradually increased in speed, placing his arms by the pit of your leg, pushing them towards you into a mating press. "fuck, you feel so good, m/n. i've wanted this for so long. shit, ah."

rafayel's voice became louder as he pistoned his cock inside you, reaching deep inside you with every thrust. his cock consistently brushed against your prostate perfectly, not failing to make you moan every time he pushed his hips towards you.

the sound of your skins slapping against each other reverberated throughout his whole bedroom, your cries and his moans filled the entire area as well. you could practically hear the squelching sound your hole produced every time he thrusted hard inside you.

rafayel leaned down, placing his forehead against yours before placing his lips on yours. you weren't new to kissing but this obviously shocked you. nevertheless, you responded to his kiss as you pulled him closer towards you.

the other male grinned mischievously as he stuck his tongue inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern. rafayel swallowed your pleasured moans, groaning as he sucked on your tongue, swirling his own wet muscle with it.

his hands moved towards your chest, playing with your erect nipples, making you cry out, gripping hard onto his hair as he played with them, flicking and twisting them.

"fuck," he cursed out as he removed his lips on yours, some saliva dripping down from your lips at the heated makeout session. you wondered why he stopped but you were rid of your questions once you noticed how he let go of your legs and changed your positions without pulling out.

your back was now turned towards him and now you were on all fours. rafayel chuckled as he landed a slap on your ass, liking the way it jiggled. "so fucking hot," he stated as he began moving again, using one hand to hold onto your hip. "you ready for cock number two, sweetie?" he asked.

you didn't know what to answer since you were already to drunk on his cock to even think about anything, blabbering nonsense and something about 'cumming'. taking that as a yes, he lined his second cock against your hole as he stopped moving before pushing all the way in.

the sudden intrusion made you cry out in pleasure as you threw your head back, cumming yet again for the third time that day. "n-no..wh-why...hurts.." you muttered out as your arms gave out, involuntarily sticking your ass up towards him.

"it'll feel good in a moment. okay, m/n?" rafayel assured you as he sheathed his cocks inside your stretched hole. he let out a breathy moan as he threw his head back, feeling even better now that both his cocks were inside your warm hole. "hah, you feel so fucking good, baby."

you adjusted to his cock as you fisted on the sheets. not a while later, he began to pummel your ass needily, moaning out as his cheeks were now tinted in red. "g-good...ah.." you moaned out.

suddenly, rafayel leaned his body down towards you, placing an arm around your neck before pulling you up with him. the position made rafayel's cock reach deeper inside you which got you a moaning mess, throwing your head back as you clenched your fists.

“m-my stomach, no…!” you cried out as the other male reached out a hand and pressed against the bulge on your stomach, pressing down which got you cumming again. “n-no more…fuck! i c-cant cum anymore,” you said, but it was as if he was drunk in pleasure and paid no attention to your protests.

instead, he turned your head and kissed you, choking you with his strong arm while using the other one to keep you both steady. your sweaty bodies mingled with each other, the pleasure making your eyes roll and your cock twitch back to life. you were already too tired at this point.

rafayel's thrusts grew faster and harder, moans getting louder as he held you closer, as if wanting to fuse his body with you. the scales that appeared on his body grew in number as he felt his own climax come to him. “fuck, i'm about to cum, m/n. can I cum inside you, baby? please?” he said, hugging you tightly as he placed soft kisses down on your shoulders.

as you were nearing your own release again, rafayel jerked you once again so you two could cum together. this made you cry out as tears finally dripped down from your eyes at the overstimulation. “rafayel!” you moaned out his name, holding onto his biceps that was around your neck.

rafayel nodded as he gritted his teeth, veins pulsating as he thrusted faster and harder inside you, hitting your prostate spot-on, jerking your cock off in the same rhythm. “cum for me, m/n. fuck, m/n. i'm cumming!”

“m-me too,” you announced, turning your head to kiss the other male who was already waiting for your lips. then your lips parted as you both chased your climax.

with one final thrust, rafayel came inside of you, biting down on your shoulder while you squirted all over the white sheets. “t-tired..” was all you could mutter as you fell asleep in the other male's embrace.

“i hope he's fine. i think i overdid it,” you heard someone say then a rather deeper voice was heard as well.

“well, when are you planning to tell him about this whole shenanigans?” the other male asked as he looked at your state.

rafayel bit his lip out of guilt before he sighed and looked at the demon. “the moment he wakes up, i will tell him everything.”

“tell me what?”

your voice made the two scream out in surprise, looking at each other then back at you. they watched as you blinked your eyes open, then sat up, using your hand to rub your eyes awake. “rafayel? who is he?” you asked, once you finally saw the stranger beside him.

“the demon that possessed him. nice to meetcha. i'll be on my way then, tata!” the incubus stated before he disappeared, leaving you and rafayel alone together.

the purple-haired male turned to look at you and held your hands, checking on your stature first. “are you alright? nothing hurts, does it? i got a bit carried away, sorry,” he asked.

“i'm fine, rafayel. it felt good honestly and thanks for cleaning me up. i got too tired and passed out. if anything I should be the one asking you if you're alright,” you stated, a smile on your lips as you adjusted the blanket draped on you.

rafayel mentally prepared himself before finally blurting out his feelings towards you, not wanting to regret not telling you. “i like you, m/n. ever since we met back then. it was love at first sight and I just couldn't let go of you, I needed you,” he started.

"i wanted to treasure you and the moment i found out you were into men, i got so hyped up. i decided to make you my best friend slash bodyguard. but along with it, my feelings grew stronger. to the point where i wanted to defile your body."

he looked into your eyes, fearing that you'd hate him once you finally found put the truth. "i could never bring myself to do that, and so, i decided to summon an incubus to help me get the courage i needed to touch you. i'm sorry."

once he was done, you let out a laugh before looking at him, wiping a stray tear away. "you mean you were holding back? damn, you liked me that much? you're seriously cute and funny."

"what? no violent reactions?"rafayel asked, confused. but all he heard from you was a simple 'nope'. "shouldn't you be mad at me?"

you smiled. "if you knew i was into, why haven't you asked me out yet?"

"i didn't know if i was your type. what if i--"

"dude! you're a famous painter, tall, handsome, has constant moodswings, and did i mention your two dicks? who wouldn't want you, rafayel?" you stated, making the man in front of you blush, embarrassed. "so, when are you gonna ask me out?"

"will you really go out with me?" rafayel asked shyly.

you scoffed at him hitting his shoulder. "stop acting so coy. as if you haven't rearranged my guts earlier. now why don't we get breakfast, hm?" rafayel smiled before letting out a chuckle. "you're right. let's."

[squiddy-god]

♡Will you be my valentine?♡

lads x reader

Hehehehe ok ok so i would like to say, keep in mind this is mostly based in american valentines day and not valentines/white day so i tried to mix them, but i'll do white day too. I might make some more spicy hcs later  

Cw ; fluff, gn reader (still mc but written to be inclusive), use of pet names, jealousy, possessiveness. Use of the word “bride” but in a gn way? If you know you know. Use of y/n because what else am i supposed to use?? Caleb slander in zayne’s part vice versa. Xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb 

Xavier 

No 

He is not asking to be your valentine, you ARE his valentine and he makes that known so immediately 

The month of february hits and he sees you watching those videos of people sad their partner hasnt asked them to be their valentine and he just goes “good thing you are my valentine” 

Don't correct him and say he hasn't asked

You. are.

I can absolutely see him getting you one of those teddybears with a heart or some other stuffed animal for the holiday but he is immediately beefing

He has beef with the STUFFY HE GOT YOU. 

On a side note i think he 100% is the type to get jealous over your plushies “why do you get to sleep in their bed and i don't?” those snuggles are HIS and he won't share 

If you make him chocolate he is on cloud 9, not only does he get a snack but also its from you and means he's special~

Now if you receive chocolates from someone? Some secret admirer? He is melting those sweets with his gaze- he wants them in the trash 5 seconds ago 

I think he would get you one of those softer springtime bouquets, i feel like it just fits him more 

Zayne 

He is STRUGGLING 

I think he would ask the night before, asking if you'd like to go on a date since it is a special occasion

Based on his 100 days texts he seems like the type who even if it doesn't seem like it holds holidays like this in a surprisingly high regard. So i think he would ask if you would like to be his valentine 

Hehe milkshake date with zayne, one of the cute cheesy ones with the heart straws 

Big fan of the sweets, usually rejects any attempts to give him chocolates but for you he feels himself almost anticipating it, and when it happens he savors them throughout the day 

I think he'd be the type to give you those elegant single roses 

I can also see that he REALLY wanted to be your valentine as a kid, with those chalky candy hearts and little kid cards, he always got one frome you and he kept all of them. Unfortunately there was a dirty mutt preventing him from actually being your childhood valentine 

If you receive chocolate from some kind of admirer he is a little put off, something about it simmers under his skin just a little bit, fortunately this is an easily curd ailment- the prescription of course being 20 doses of kisses. 

Rafayel 

He's lowkey waiting for YOU to ask HIM to be your valentine.

 And he will be pouting about it 

Feel like we don't talk enough about how the little fishie is lowkey a bit scary?? He sees this as the inevitable, you are his, his valentine, his love, his bride 

His fishie <3

When one of you finally cracks and asks the other to be your valentine he is very pleased with himself. 

Long walk on the beach, picnic by the shore where the salty air can kiss your skin 

If you give him chocolate he is scarfing it down high key. Probably plays the weak frail card complaining about how his wrist hurts so clearly you have to feed him 

I can see him getting you those rainbow rose bouquets or one with lots of different colored roses to make a soft but colorful bouquet. 

Now if you received chocolate from an admirer he is pouting 

Whining frfr 

Type to go “oh why don't you go eat THEIR chocolate?” this will either last all of 5 seconds before he is switching it up and demanding kisses as repayment for emotional damages or until you don't give in (5 second max) and he's back to being dramatic 

Don't be shocked if they go missing tho 

Sylus 

Sylus does not simply ask for you to be his valentine, he woos you 

The month of february is his month to shine truly, because it starts small, subtle. 

A flower here and there, a single rose or a little heart 

It's a few days before valentines day and he's thoroughly romanced you when he pulls you close using his evol to ask if you'd like to be his valentine 

The day itself consists of you waking up, bed? Covered in rose petals. Sylus? Holding one of those really big heart shaped rose bouquets made of the glitter roses everyone went crazy for. Then dinner followed by a joyride 

Cough cough the biggest teddy bear he could find in white. 

If you give him chocolates he's sooooooo pleased. Savors them throughout the day and next day thinking about you 

Like i mentioned the rose bouquet game is top tier, his whole house is full of them, every vase full of those deep red roses because he wasn't you to look over and think of him.

Drives you to some obscure far out location to watch the stars for a while, the ride obviously enjoyable but even more so is being in his arms for such a tender moment. 

Now if you receive chocolate from someone he is so so smug, sylus gives off the vibes of like “hmm yes i know my kitten is the best, obviously they cant help but be charmed”  

Caleb 

Hs been your valentine every year since childhood (the dirty mutt in question)  

But this year is the first year he's really going to be your valentine, where he doesn't have to pretend like he doesn't mean it with his whole chest 

That isn't stopping him from teasing you, he wants to get you to admit that you want him to be your valentine

But he is a weak man, and he crumbles at the slightest hint of puppy eyes or pouting 

He is asking you on feb 1st 12:02am to be his valentine  

On the day itself he wakes you up with breakfast, heart shaped pancakes, eggs and your preferred protein 

Definitely writing something like “be mine?” on those pancakes 

I think the bouquet he gives you is a very classic one, roses and baby's breath tied with a silky red ribbon 

If you give him chocolate he is like a excited puppy, he's always given you the chocolate he gets from others, and he's always gotten chocolate from you but this time is special this time it's real 

A cute little day date around the city so he can show off that he won. And it includes those matching built a bear with the voice box. “I love you” “Miss me pipsqueak?” “i'll be home soon, love you” “*smooch smooch smooch smooch noise*” “i miss you so much y/n” for your bear and his has “i love you” “miss you so much caleb” “waiting for you at home, love you” “*smooch smooch smooch smooch*” “we’ll be together soon” and you best believe he is going to be taking that bear with him and playing those lines again and again 

If you get chocolate from someone else he is laughing on the outside but internally it's just “bomb them, keep bombing them-” if he's there when you get them he is absolutely standing behind you ominously to glare down the poor soul trying to shoot their shot. He spent your childhood puppy guarding you from elsa he is not losing now

[lifeasadorkwithnolife]

Monster (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Everyone thinks that Y/N is a horrible person for what she did under the mountain, and she agrees, but Azriel realizes that things aren't what they seem.

I have not wrote any fanfiction in 5 years, which is absolutely crazy. I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot about story ideas and he asked me, why don't you just write it down? So here it is, it's not exactly what I used to write.

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

You had hoped you would die under the caldron-forsaken mountain. The 49 years have cost you everything: your family, your court and your humanity. Amarantha had chosen you to be her right hand, you had no one to lose and everything to gain. You became known as Amarantha’s bitch, arguably a worse title than Rhysand’s. Your job was to keep discipline under the mountain and frequently had to whip and grant Amarantha’s wishes of public torture sessions when the Attor was not around.

Your reputation had made it outside of the mountain and throughout the courts, you were known to be ruthless and would kill without hesitation. You were an absolute monster.

Before Feyre had come along and saved you all from the mountain, the only one who understood your pain was Rhysand. For the first few years of your position, Rhysand would look at you with hatred in his eyes. He tortured people too, but you knew he didn’t enjoy it in the same way you pretended to. Every time you tortured the poor soul who got on Amarantha’s nerves, you would go up to them after the fact and hold their hand and ask if they had learned their lesson.

You had a gift and a curse, your gift was the ability to absorb pain from someone else, but the curse was that pain demanded to be felt eventually. Every whipping, every burn, or every cut that you performed, you took it from them to feel later. You kept this secret to yourself originally, but it’s quite hard to hide things from Rhysand.

On one unfortunate night, he entered your chambers under the mountain and witnessed the blood beginning to pool on your back. “Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame.

“Get the fuck out, Rhysand.” You croaked, mouth dry as you felt another blow to your back from the whipping earlier. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn’t be Amarantha’s seconds.” You could feel the walls you built to protect yourself from Rhysand crumbling, like they were nothing but paper, and his eyes grew in realization.

He walked over to you and placed your face in his hands, his eyes growing wide with understanding. “You don’t have to bear their pain alone, Y/N.” He whispered, but you shook your head.

“Please go away.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. Nobody had ever seen you like this under the mountain, “I can handle it, really.”

You felt the next blow and cried out, Rhysand caught you in his arms and held you. You felt him in your mind, and then your physical pain was gone, and it was just you both in your head. He was right there, in front of you, and all you could do was sigh. “I can explain.”

“Are you…. Are you taking their pain?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Why?”

“We’re all trapped here.” You replied, your voice echoing across the black void. “Someone will hurt them either way, at least if I hurt them… I can take their pain away and they can pass peacefully.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rhys asked, and you shrugged. “I could have helped you, we’re on the same side.”

“It’s my pain to bear, I wouldn’t have agreed to this job if I couldn’t take their pain away.” You whispered back, he nodded in understanding.

From then on, you had one friend under the mountain, and when Feyre became part of the picture, you had two.

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

               When Feyre won the trials and you were released from the mountain, you realized that you had nowhere to go. Your court has disowned you and your family was…gone. Rhysand invited you back to Velaris to the dismay of his inner circle, and he agreed that your gift would remain a secret until you were ready.

               You trained as hard as you could and tried your best time and time again to win over the inner circle. You promised yourself you would tell them about your gift eventually but couldn’t bring yourself to do it, feeling like you would be using it as an “excuse” to torture others and end all the lives you did, when it was really inexcusable.

               The member of the inner circle that hated you the most was Azriel, he would immediately leave any room you entered, refuse to go on missions with you and would even stop training as soon as you were in earshot. You could sense him staring at you from afar sometimes, and whenever you would look it would be anger, hatred and maybe a little confusion in his eyes.

               You tried your best to make friends with everyone, but it’s hard to be friends with a sadistic murderer who laughed as they were killing the weak and defenseless. The only people who gave you a chance were Cassian and Feyre, and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

               One night, during one of your nightmares, you awoke to large hands shaking you awake and came face to face with Cassian. He looked at you in concern and placed a hand around your head in a brotherly, comforting way. Tears flowed down your face. “You were shouting your own name, what were you dreaming about?”

               “Cassian, do you think I can be forgiven for what I’ve done?” You whispered, looking up at him. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I need to tell you the truth.”

               Cassian was the first person you willingly told your story to, and he looked absolutely horrified. You showed him the scars on your back and told him about the worst things you have ever done. He comforted you for hours, and in return told you his stories about how he’s killed and how guilty he feels about it sometimes.

               It was nice having Cassian after that point, you two would spar, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to throw a punch when he was open. His laughter was a wonderful sound, and he would often catch you staring at Azriel- longing for his forgiveness but knowing that would most likely never happen. You knew he didn’t trust you, and you don’t think he ever would.

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

                “I need you two to go on a mission together.” Rhys explains, looking between you and Azriel. “I don’t care about how much you don’t like each other; this needs to be done. The attor was sighted on our border, and I need him found.”

               You took a quick look at Azriel before turning away, his hands were clenched into fists, and his shadows were swarming around angrily. “I can go by myself just fine.” Azriel snapped, “She’ll just slow me down and you know it.”

               “I need you BOTH to go, which is why Y/N is here.” Rhysand clasped his hands together, looking at you expectantly. “I think she will be helpful in this mission, since the attor is involved.”

               “I am familiar with the attor.” You sighed, peeking over at Azriel. “I may be able to lure him out.”

               “I bet he’s very fond of you,” Azriel turned to look at you, “I bet you killed more people than he did, did you guys keep count like a competition?”

               You stepped back, you had barely spoken to Azriel, but these were his first words with you. Every reassurance that Cassian, Feyre and Rhys had ever provided seemed to disappear.

               “I just don’t understand Rhys, why is she here? The rest of us have killed, sure, but for good reason. She is a monster.” Azriel’s shadows circled the room, and you could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

               ‘You’re not going to defend yourself?’ Rhys asked you, and you gave your head a slight shake.

               “This is the last I’m hearing of it, Azriel, you better bring her back here in one piece or so help me.”

               After 3 cold days of searching for the Attor, he was nowhere to be found, and Azriel’s snide comments were getting on your nerves. The flight back to Velaris was cold and silent.

               “Hey, I’m sorry that we came all this way and didn’t catch him.” You whispered, staring down at the darkening landscape.

               “I just hoped that you would be useful for something.” He replied, not even looking in your direction. You sighed, your heart plummeting to your stomach. You had hoped, on some deluded level, that this trip would allow you to talk to him and explain yourself and maybe- just maybe- he wouldn’t hate you so much anymore.

               “I just wanted to say sorry- not just for the attor but for everything.” He looked down at you, and you couldn’t tell what expression was on his face. “I’m just- I’m trying to be better than I was under the mountain, the person I was then is not me. I hope you can believe that.”

               He nodded, looking back up at the setting sun. “I believe that you want to be better.” He said solemnly, “But if what everyone is saying is true, then there is no hope for you. You will never change, even if Rhysand and Cassian don’t see it yet.”  

               You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod, you felt the cold tears sting your eyes but tried to blink them away before they could fall. Azriel saw you for who you really were, the murderer. At least he won’t lie to you like everyone else has.

               The silence ticked by when all the sudden, an arrow flew by your head and hit Azriels wing with a sharp crack. He grunted in pain and dropped a couple feet; another 2 arrows swished by and tore through his other wing. “Azriel- land!” You shouted, searching the darkened forest floor for any sign of the attackers.

               “No shit Y/N.” Azriel shouted, his wings pumping as the ground came in closer. You felt Azriel turn to the side as another arrow whizzed towards your head, but he took another arrow to the wing. Did he just…protect you? You two landed on the ground in a heap, but you stood up quickly, knife in hand as you searched the darkness for your attackers.

               You feel a presence behind you, and turn around, quickly taking the archer to the ground and holding your knife to his neck. He was older, with pointed ears and white hair. He barred his teeth angrily, but with your knees holding down his arms and knife against his neck, he was stuck.

               “Why are you attacking us?” You seethed, your knife getting dangerously close to his neck. He struggled.

               “They told us you would be passing through- you killed my whole family you bitch!” he shouted, you froze, “Just kill me! Like you did to all of them!” You stood there in silence, hesitating, trying to remember who it was that you killed. You couldn’t kill this man too, you promised you would never hurt anyone again.

               Suddenly you were under him, his knife starting to slide across your neck. You didn’t even raise your hands to defend yourself, you could see the pain of his loss clearly on his face. You nodded, closing your eyes as you waited for him to finish. You remembered Azriel’s words from earlier, he was right after all, there would be no redemption either way.

               You felt the weight lift from your throat and took a deep breath, opening your eyes and seeing Azriel’s angry from holding up the man. Azriel looked absolutely terrifying in that moment. “No, don’t hurt him- “You started, but Azriel had his knife out and slashed his neck, throwing his body to the ground. You cried out, crawling over to the males bloodied form. His eyes frantically looked around, and you grabbed his hand, but there was no usual tug, no usual surge of power as you took his pain, you looked up again and met with lifeless eyes. The male was already gone.

               “Did you…did you know him?” Azriel spat out, grabbing you angrily by your arm and pulling you up. “He shot me out of the sky and just had a knife to your neck, and now you’re crying over him?”

               “of course I didn’t know him!” You pushed back at Azriel, looking down at the male who was dead. “I just…. I just….” You felt a wave of nausea roll through you and turned so you could dry heave. Another death, because of you, again.

               “You just what Y/N?” Azriel barked, and you flinched from him. “Tell me what is going on.”

               “He’s dead!” You whispered. Azriel looked astounded, looking at the man then at you. He then laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

               “Give me a fucking break, Y/N. Lets go.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

               You two wandered until you found a cabin, the candles were still burning when you arrived and there was a fire going in the fireplace. You were becoming more worried about Azriel by the minute, his skin was losing it’s color and he was almost limping as he walked. As soon as you both entered the cabin, he sat down in a chair and started removing his leathers.

               “Azriel- are you alright?”

               “I’m fine, I just need to get this arrow out of my wing.” He muttered, looking at you.  You watched him as he reached behind him, failing to get a good grip on it. “Would you mind?”

               “I can help.” You whispered, coming up behind him and looking at his wing. His wings were beautiful, dark and somewhat translucent, you had never been this close to him before. You could see an oddish green color seeping from one of the wounds and your heart dropped, poison.

               You slowly touched the area around the protruding arrow, he tensed up. Your fingers lightly traced the area around it, trying to figure out if pulling it out was the best option or if keeping it in to stop the blood flow would be better. Removing it would probably be best, since it was poisoned.

               “Azriel, I’m going to remove it now, okay?” You said quietly, bracing your hands on the arrow. This would hurt like a bitch, but only for a second. You pulled, wincing as the wing membrane tore open a little more. Azriel grunted. “I’m so sorry, but it should start to feel better now, okay? Let me go outside so we can ice it.”

               “No- don’t go.” Azriel looked back at you, his expression a little less guarded. “There could be more of them out there- it’s unsafe.”

               “I’ll be okay, we really need to keep an eye on this for a little bit.” You reassured him and walked out of the warm cabin and into the harsh cold. You grabbed as much snow as you could fit in your sack and came back in just a few minutes later, as soon as you walked in Azriel seemed to slump in relief.

               “How are you feeling?” You asked him, noting that his complexion had looked possibly worse than before.

               “I’m feeling okay.” He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching, then a small smile came to his lips. You stopped in your tracks, if Azriel was smiling at you, there definitely was something wrong. “I feel a little funny….I think there was something in those arrows.”

               You nodded, coming over and handing the cold pack to him. He nodded and placed it against his wing, wincing at the cold. “You really confuse me, Y/N.” He admitted, his shadows seemed as lethargic as him as they swirled around you. “I can’t figure out who you are- I just see so many different things and it’s not adding up.

               “Who do you see?” You whispered, and he shook his head, somewhat confused. “You can tell me.”

               “You act like you are kind, and at first I thought it was for show, but you seem to be kind even when nobody knows it’s you.” He explains, his voice somewhat slurring. “You pay attention, you leave out books you know Feyre will like, you leave out Mor’s favorite snacks when she doesn’t even like you.”

               “And I’ve watched you train with Cassian; you refuse to throw a punch even when he’s wide open. Even- even with that guy outside who was going to kill you- you refused to hurt him, and you cried when he died.” Azriel looked at you, without hatred, for the first time. “How can someone who killed so many people, who tortured others and laughed as their families mourn, cry over a stranger? There is something you’re not telling me. Rhys and Cassian can see it, what are you not telling me? I want so badly to be on your side, please, tell me, who are you? ”

               You felt tears fall down your face, because he’s only saying this because he was drugged. “Azriel, I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.” You whispered, “I’m different than I was under the mountain.”

               Azriel nodded, head leaning back as he winced in pain. You grabbed his hand, not asking for permission, and pulled away his pain. You thought of your family, your last memories with them. Your mother, father and two brothers sitting at the table. Your brothers throwing food at each other whenever your parents weren’t looking, trying to get it into each other’s mouths, and trying to hide your laughter so your parents wouldn’t notice. You could feel him sigh in relief and fall unconscious. You sighed in relief, playing the memory again in your head, missing who you were 50 years ago.

               You woke up with a gasp, the pain from Azriel’s injuries tearing through your back. How did he deal with this much pain without even showing it? You snuck outside past Azriel’s sleeping form, and grabbed some snow into the pack that you had used for Azriel, hoping the cold would help your back.

               After shoveling some of the snow into the pack, you felt a presence behind you and looked up, seeing Azriel in the doorway. “Are you feeling bet-“

               “What did you do to me?” Azriel growled, walking down the three steps to confront you in the snow. “Who were those people? What did you do?”

               “You were poisoned Azriel, I just…I gave you some snow to cool you down and tried to get rid of the infection.” You looked up at him, trying to find the man who you had spoken to so truthfully a few hours before. “You were a little confused, which is expected.”

               He shook his head, “who was that family? Is that another family you killed?” he spat, and you froze in place. You didn’t realize that you had shown him that. “Forgot I asked. Don’t ever touch me again. Get back in here so I don’t have to protect your ass if someone else comes around to kill us.”

               You nodded, leaving the pack in the snow and making your way back up to the cabin. You could feel the chills start but could feel how physically hot your body felt. You laid down on the floor, where you were previously right next to the fire. Azriel stood next to the door, watching you intently like you might try to run away.  

               “Are you alright? You’re shaking.” Azriel stated, and you nodded. He walked over to you, hesitating then placing his hand on your forehead for a brief second. “Y/N, you’re burning up. We need to take off some of these layers.”

               You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue as Azriel ripped off your leathers, freezing at what he saw. He turned you over, but you were pale and nearly unconscious. You could hazily see a hint of worry on his face as you passed out.

The flight back was torturous, the pain had started shortly after you woke up, and with each pound of Azriel’s wings another wave of pain went through you. You noticed that for the first time, you were warm and Azriel kept you close to his chest. You could feel how slow your heart rate was, and the growing pain made your realize that maybe this trip would be the end for you.

“Hey Azzie” You whispered, looking up at him. He was truly so beautiful, especially with he early morning sunrise reflecting off his features and the small beads of sweat. “Are you hurting at all?”

“No Y/N, I’m fine.” He stated, looking down at you confused. “Azzie? Where is this coming from?”

“I think Azzie would be a fun nickname.” You laughed before groaning in pain. “I just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“And what is that?” He looked down at you, if you looked like how you felt, then you could understand the growing concern in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? We could have left last night.”

“I don’t want to argue, please.” You whispered, trying to get closer to him. You felt cold and hot at the same time. “Those people I showed you- I did kill them in a way.” His arms stiffened but you continued. “That was my last good memory before I…. became a murderer. I didn’t protect them, I left and they came and attacked and I was the only one brought under the mountain.” The pain in your chest matched the pain in your back. “I couldn’t take away their pain, I couldn’t hold them as they died, I will never forgive myself.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Azriel whispered, you sighed and closed your eyes again, listening to the thumping of his wings. “Why didn’t you just use the antidote on yourself too, I could have handled it.”

“I can’t use it on me.” You whispered, before falling back unconscious.    

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

               “I need help in here!” Azriel’s voice boomed, causing you to stir and groan from your position in his arms. “Rhysand!”

               You heard thumping and were placed on a soft surface; you felt a warm hand against your cheek and found yourself leaning into it. Then the pain started, and you felt yourself writhe as the poison worked its way through your back.

               “I’m not sure what happened, one minute she was fine.” You heard Azriel say in a panicked voice, “then she’s shaking from the cold, no matter how hot I turned up the fire. She has a fever, and her skin is cold to the touch. She has been delirious for the past two hours of the flight, talking about forgiveness and you and Cassian knowing the truth. What is going on Rhys?”

               You could feel a set of hands on your back and you screamed in pain as they tried to flip you over. “Don’t do that! You’re hurting her!” You heard a voice yell, and you tried to keep your mouth shut to prevent any more noises from escaping.             

               “High lord, I’m going to need to him out of here if he can’t control himself.” You heard the women say, you recognized her voice, was that the healer?

               “Azriel, what else happened?” Rhys voice asked, you realized that you couldn’t open your eyes, but you weren’t in as much pain, Rhys must be doing something to you.  

               “We were attacked on the way back; I took three arrows to the wing but she didn’t say anything. Hell, I didn’t even see an arrow go towards her.” You could hear, maybe it was worry, in his voice. “Then she healed me somehow, but she didn’t heal herself. She couldn’t tell me why.” You felt a hand grab yours, and from the ridges of skin there could tell it was Azriel.

               “Please, help her.” You heard him whisper.

               “Madja, Y/N an absorber healer, she’s been poisoned.” Rhys instructs; you hear a gasp from the healer.

               “By the cauldrons, I have never met one before, they are so rare.” You hear her say.

               Despite Rhys’s efforts, you feel another wave of pain shoot down your back, but you keep your mouth closed to avoid screaming. “Azriel- get out.” Rhys shouted, and you tried to shake your head in objection. You need Azriel, you gripped his hand tighter, or tried to in your half-conscious state.

               You felt your shirt rip open, and then your hand was released, and steps were taken away from you. “Rhys- what are those- why does she have all those scars on her back?”

               “She can explain when she wakes up.”

               You woke up with a start, a scream on your lips. “Y/N, you’re okay.” A voice said, and you felt two hands rest on your shoulders. You snapped your head to see, Azriel? You looked around, you were in your room, but a chair had been pulled up next to the bed.

               “How long…”

               “3 days.” Azriel stated, settling back down into the chair.

               You nodded, “and…why are you in my room?” You looked around, cautiously looking back at him. He looked…incredulous.

               “Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m just making sure you wake up.” Azriel cocked his head to the side, anger filling his eyes. “Why would you do that Y/N? I would have been perfectly fine, but you almost got yourself killed, you had no right to do that to yourself on my behalf!”

               “It’s not like I can help it!” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the scratchiness In your throat. He grabbed a cup of water for you on the nightstand, and you drank almost the whole thing. “Azriel- can I be honest?”

               “Please do, I need a good explanation.” He retorted, sarcasm lacing his tone. His shadows were surrounding you, but seemed almost- relieved.

               “I can’t watch people in pain.” You whispered, “Watching you in pain killed me inside, and even though you hate and can’t stand to be around me, I couldn’t just watch you go through that.”

               “I did hate you.” Azriel says, grabbing your hand. “How else was I supposed to feel? You had killed people I knew, people with families, tortured for fun and acted like you enjoyed it. Hell- I think the whole court hated you.”

               You looked down, nodding, tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

               “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/n.” You looked up, locking eyes with Azriel, “I was such an idiot, the signs were there, and you’re a terrible liar. When I saw the scars on your back, I – I lost my shit. Literally. I don’t Madja is going to let me anywhere near the healing quarters anytime soon.”

               “I was just trying to help people the only way I knew how.” You whispered, a tear spilling. He nodded, reaching up and cupping your face.

               “I feel like a monster too, I’ve killed and tortured, but I’ve always done it in the name of our court.” He exhaled shakily, giving you a small smile. “But you are kind, and I have just been so frustrated over the past couple of months because I wanted to hate you so much- but couldn’t bring myself to. Watching you laugh with Cassian and Feyre, I felt so helpless like you could never open up to me like that. I literally couldn’t even be in the same room as you, because I felt so…jealous for no reason.”

               “Rhys- when he told me about us going together, I was angry. Angry that he would put you in danger just for the sake of getting us to get along.” You watched anger fill his eyes, “and he almost got you killed.”

               “I’m okay.” You reassured, smiling through the tears that were still falling.

               “just make me a promise, okay?” Azriel released the grip on your face and grabbed your hand, fiercely. “I never want you to take my pain again, or anyones for that matter, okay? My pain is mine to bear, alone.”

               You nodded, feeling some relief. “Thank you Azriel, I…this means a lot to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long.”

               “I want to hear everything,” he squeezed your hand again, and you could feel your heart flutter. “I will never let you get hurt again, and honestly…Azriel is so formal. I’m okay with Azzie….as long as its between us.”

[pastelalleycat]

I can transcribe it!

The non-chronic pain scale goes from 0 to 10. The chronic pain scale goes from -3 to 13, with -3 equivalent to 0 and 13 being three steps above 10 on the non-chronic pain scale.

Non-chronic pain scale:

0: No Pain. I have no pain.

1: Minimal. My pain is hardly noticeable.

2: Mild. I have a low level of pain. I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it.

3: Uncomfortable. My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.

4: Moderate. I am constantly aware of my pain but I can continue most activities.

5: Distracting. I think about my pain most of the time. I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of my pain.

6: Distressing. I think about my pain all of the time. I give up many activities because of my pain.

7: Unmanageable. I am in pain all the time. It keeps me from doing most activities.

8: Intense. My pain is so severe that it is hard to think of anything else. Talking and listening are difficult.

9: Severe. My pain is all that I can think about. I can barely talk or move because of the pain.

10: Unable to Move. I am in bed and can't move due to my pain. I need someone to take me to the emergency room to get help for my pain.

Chronic illness pain scale:

-3: Unheard of. We've either been knocked out unconscious or magically swapped bodies.

-2: This level of pain is treatable with all your magical yoga, tumeric, positive thinking treatments. Wish we were here.

-1: Mild pain is what chronic pain people think of as time to take paracetamol. This level would be a dream come true.

0: Lowest level of pain for most chronic illness people on a brilliant day where we "don't look ill". A rarity.

1: This is the normal 'good day' for many chronic illness people. It won't ever get any lower for the rest of our lives.

2: Many activities limited from pain. Most will push through & continue as we NEED to feel constructive. Irritability guaranteed.

3: Starting to get annoyed now. Many wait until this level to take the meds which sometimes help take the edge off.

4: Ah, our normal. Hello normal. We hate you.

5: Activities now limited. Meds help a little. Distracting is useful if others can help. Focus REALLY hard at a TV box set and wait it out.

6: This is our flare territory. We know if we do ANYTHING it'll get worse. We rest, cry in frustration, tweet rant to others for solidarity.

7: People without chronic pain are now in A&E. We use our arsenal of knowledge, swearing a lot, and meds. We can't really move. :(

8/11: Ok. It hurts now. We'll admit it to others at this point. This is possibly when we actually "look ill". But you won't see us, so you'll never know.

9/12: Nothing we have been prescribed to help with this level actually helps. We'll actually seek help in desperation now. Stress & blood pressure through the roof.

10/13: Any non chronic illness people around us are scared. We're scared. We may pass out from pain. We don't want to be here for this. It's something we have to live with, usually forever. This is the bad place.

this is the picture I show any doctor when I have to go.

Anymore, when I get asked about my pain, I just hand the doctor my phone. I've been at a constant 8 on the chronic illness side of the picture for a year and a half now. I hate it but I thought this could be useful. I straight up got the off of Google so I am unsure who to credit for the original but I have been a great help to me so I wanted to share.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Valentine's Day with Ni-ki;

Pairing; fem!reader X best friend!Ni-ki Synopsis; Just when you're about to leave the house to have a date with Heeseung, your best friend Ni-ki shows up at your door with a sweet confession to make; Genre; best friends to lovers; fluff; Words; 1k Warning; None is just cute asf lol; MASTERLIST;

A/N: I wanted to post something for valentine's day so bad but I don't really like this :( I hope you guys do! As usual likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you so much <3 Happy Valentine to all the girlies and boys in a relationship, to us, singles... well... lets be delulu for a little.

“Ni-ki? What are you doing here?” you question, confused, as soon as you open your heavy front door. Your curious eyes scan your best friend’s face as you gently hold the door open.

“Don’t go…” Ki responds, his beautiful brown eyes locked on yours.

Today is Valentine’s Day, and you have a date with a nice guy named Heeseung, who happens to be one of Ni-ki’s friends. You haven’t talked to Heeseung much, but he showed interest in you, and you decided to give him a chance. He seemed hesitant at first, but then firmly assured you that he wanted to go out with you today, so you got all dolled up just for him.

“What are you talking about, Ki?” you ask, starting to feel irritated by his strange timing. Ni-ki stands tall in front of you, his hands hidden behind his back. You raise an eyebrow and try to peek behind him, but he catches you just in time and steps back to avoid it.

“I’m talking about your date with Heeseung,” Riki repeats, his hands starting to sweat. “Don’t go on that stupid date with him.”

The truth is, he’s been in love with you ever since he met you. Ni-ki realized he wanted you long ago, way before you met Heeseung, but only now, with Heeseung making a move on you, did he find the courage to confess. His heart ached at the thought of you kissing Heeseung after getting all pretty for him.

Riki tries to read your expression, his eyes scanning your perplexed face, then trailing down your figure. You’re wearing an adorable pink floral sundress that isn’t too tight but still hugs your body in all the right places. Your long chocolate-brown hair is carefully straightened, and you’re wearing his favorite perfume.

Feeling his intense gaze, you speak up. “Why would I do that, hm?”

Ni-ki knows you’re starting to get irritated—the stern look in your eyes gives it away easily.

“Because…” Ni-ki starts, but it feels like someone is squeezing his throat, making it hard to breathe. “Because I’m finally here,” he whispers, his eyes locked on yours, hoping you’ll understand what his half-words can’t fully express.

You feel your cheeks heat up, unable to hide your reaction to his words. You’ve liked Riki for as long as you can remember but never really understood your feelings until you started growing up. His cool persona and great fashion sense made him incredibly attractive. But after getting to know him even better, you fell harder. He was more than just cool and well-dressed. He was kind, well-mannered, and made you laugh until your cheeks hurt. And turns out that was the way to your heart.

You never told him how you felt because you never thought he would like you back. After all, he was popular and had many girls chasing after him. That’s why you agreed to go out with Heeseung. Maybe he could distract you from the one-sided love you had for your best friend.

“What are you talking about, Riki…” you whisper, your heart racing at the thought that he might actually like you back. Your eyes shift from his to the floor, too nervous to face him.

“Fuck, Y/N, I like you, okay? I always have. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you,” Ni-ki finally confesses, his ears turning red and his hands trembling slightly as he reveals what he is holding behind his back.

You can’t hide the immense smile that grows on your lips at his words, and when you see the beautiful bouquet of red roses in his hands, you can’t hold back anymore. Happy tears fill your eyes as you reach forward, wrapping your arms around Ni-ki’s neck, your head tucked against him. Your best friend immediately pulls you close, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his heart finally calming down as he feels your familiar embrace.

“Does this mean you like me back?” he jokes when you pull away to look up at him, your big puppy eyes staring into his. Ni-ki’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

You smile brightly at him. “Of course I do, dumbass,” you giggle, completely lost in the new softness in Riki’s eyes. “Wait, but Heeseung doesn’t deserve this… I can’t just cancel on him,” you say, biting your lip as guilt creeps in.

“Don’t worry, just tell him you changed your mind. He knew this would happen…” Ni-ki explains with a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Heeseung knew Ni-ki liked you, but Ni-ki denied it. Your best friend had assured Heeseung that you were single and that he didn’t like you, so Heeseung asked you out. Despite suspecting Riki’s feelings, Heeseung was genuinely interested in you and was surprised when you accepted his offer.

“Will you be my Valentine?” Ni-ki asks, love practically dripping from his eyes, his smile so genuine and cheerful that it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yes, Ni-ki.”

As the words leave your mouth, Riki steps closer to you, his addictive scent surrounding you. His cold fingers gently lift your chin as he leans in. Your hands reach for his black hair, fingers playing with the strands at the nape of his neck.

His lips feel hesitant at first when they meet yours. Knowing him well, you can tell he’s probably nervous about taking this big step, so you kiss him back confidently, trying to reassure him that you’re more than okay with this. Tilting your head slightly, you silently ask for permission to deepen the kiss, and he lets you take the lead. As your lips mold together perfectly, he relaxes, smiling softly against your mouth, overwhelmed by joy. Your tongues move slowly, savoring each other like you’ve always wished to.

Out of breath, you pull away, a warm blush painting your cheeks. When Riki opens his eyes, he finds you already staring at him, looking prettier than ever with your lips swollen and red from his kiss. Smiling, he gently takes your hand and leads you to his car, ready to drive you to your favorite restaurant and spend a perfect evening with you—just like you deserve.

Little did he know, this was already more than enough. All you really wanted on this Valentine’s Day was his warm lips on yours, finally claiming you as his.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[booksooks]

i havent even met sylus in game but some of yall seem to have him confused for your own oc because he would Not act Like That

typing using voice to text so I'm sorry if the formatting is weird, but from what my friend who has met sylus has told me: this man would not act the way some of you guys are insisting. like he would not be jealous to the point of being entirely unable to communicate. he would not try to kiss you as a way of making up, or as a way to stop you from being angry with him. that's just not something i see as feasibly anywhere near sylus as a character.

if you want to write a big daddy dom character who completely bulldozes over your feelings in lieu of 'fucking the jealousy out of you', then by all means go for it. but at that point, you are writing for an original character because that is wildly mischaracterizing someone who (again, according to my friend because i havent even come close to meeting sylus in the storyline) specifically makes room for you to be angry, to feel big emotions in a safe space and to be there for you.

the amount of fanfics i've seen that have sylus act in a way that is completely off base is insane. i'm aware that this is fanfiction, that people can write whatever they want and it's not harmful because at the end of the day: it's FAN FICTION and if you can't separate reality from fiction or whatever, you're not mature enough to be reading mature works or you simply don't have the media literacy skills to do so. but i've had a very long and emotionally draining week, and my temper is hanging on by a thread, and i'm allowed to be angry about a completely bullshit take on one of my favorite characters lmfao.

let me be clear, i'm not saying sylus cannot, will not, and has never been domineering, or protective, or that he doesn't have a fucking daddy kink or whatever. what i AM saying, is that the amount of fanfictions of sylus blowing the reader off or ghosting them or just simply not communicating and then expecting the reader to fall back into his arms after a kiss and a few well placed 'kitten's is astounding. even if he made the bad choice of being distant without explanation, he wouldn't expect the reader to instantly forgive him without an ELABORATE apology and an explanation. and honestly, i'm willing to put that bullshit of 'she forgives him because he's hot and he pulled her in close with his strong arms and hes so big daddy alpha dom' into the category of misogyny. because in what world does someone go from angry and hurt to forgiving and pliant just because he's a man and he kissed you. it is blatantly misogynistic to expect that.

i'm aware there is a lot of nuance within relationships, and that not everyone can be expected to be perfect at all times, HOWEVER this is fanfiction, and the authors i'm talking about have either explicitly stated that the reader and sylus have an established romantic relationship, or that they at the very least get along well and enjoy each other's company. so for sylus to then go ghost on the reader and expect them to instantly fall back into his arms at the end of the day then puts me in the position of 'simpering woman with no spine'. again, misogynistic.

at the end of the day, i'm aware this isn't an important issue and i'm aware that the misogyny in fanfiction doesn't necessarily have to transfer over to real life, especially because i do have critical thinking. but i have been ghosted before by an at-the-time boyfriend, and it sucked, so it's more of a personal issue from me.

i'm aware people can write whatever they want, and i have no obligation to read something i don't like. but that then eliminates what seems to be 50% of the fanfiction of sylus. i'm just saying please... consider writing literally anything else for sylus. for a man who has been made to love you specifically... y'all sure don't make him act like it.

if anyone wants me to elaborate or clarify some things, please send me an ask because the comments are not easy to navigate especially with multiple replies.

last but not least: i'm aware these are my personal feelings, and that i can write to make up for it should i so choose. but i hate having to scroll past 5 fics in a row with quite frankly stupid miscommunication issues from a man who is 28 and should damn well know better. thank you.

[crushoncaleb]

Be my valentine

Rafayel x reader

Fluff

1.4k words

You try to ask Rafayel to be your valentine. The keyword is try.

A/N. First time I have written something for a holiday or event and actually managed to post it in time! Basically, I couldn't sleep, and Rafayel possessed me. Hope y'all enjoy!

Is this...rejection?

You'd spent some time planning it, even bribed Thomas to get Rafayel the day off. But when you and Rafayel arrived at your usual spot at the beach. He didn't seem to take note of the seagulls at all.

The seagulls you had somehow managed to train into landing in the right order so the letters you stuck to them would ask him to be your valentine. Now, you'd be the first to admit, the whole plan was a little crazy, but with your and Rafayel's history and connection to the seagulls choir, you'd thought it would be cute.

If it had been any more subtle, you might've believed he genuinely missed it. But it's quite hard to believe someone like Rafayel would not see the literal seagull choir the two of you were here to visit. So naturally, you had to assume he was letting you down easy.

Even being let down easy hurt. It completely blindsided you. You were absolutely certain something had been brewing between you and the artist. Hell, last time you'd spent time with him after wearing new perfume, he'd spent about an hour shoving his face against you to breathe you in. You were SO certain that crossed the line of platonic.

You start questioning if perhaps you'd been reading social interactions wrong your entire life, as next to you, Rafayel starts getting antsy.

"Cutie, as much as the sky is beautiful today and I would love to spend time staring at it with you, we should go get lunch now. Thomas' endless texting has tired me out, and I'm huungry. " He speaks, his tone light and whiney as always, and for a second, you consider him world's greatest actor.

You decide that what you felt for Rafayel combined with the effort you'd put into this plan was worth the risk of heartbreak, so in a final effort to get him to acknowledge you, you speak up.

"Don't you want to see your trusty choir first? They're right there behind you. I'm sure they've missed their conductor." You're not sure if you manage to keep your tone quite as light and playful as intended, desperation tinging the edges of your words, but you've spoken them, now he HAS to respond.

A pause, anticipation clogs your veins, and you practically feel your blood pressure rising. "...there's a boat ride with a buffet that might be nice today, since the weather is so nice and all."

Your eyebrows raise, the casual tone of his voice so steady that you almost start questioning if you even did bring it up at all. But the quick look he takes at you and the way he turns away tells you he is definitely doing this on purpose.

It was truly rejection then, your stomach twists and a buffet and a boat ride with Rafayel suddenly sound daunting. You could get over rejection, but maybe not within 10 minutes.

"Hmm, that sounds nice but I'm actually starting to feel a little off," you muse on your excuse "I think I might head home a little earlier than planned today, Rafayel, rain check?"

He turns to face you now, slowly. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, expression reminiscent of that time you gave him a single apple when he checked himself into the hospital. A mix between shock, offense, and a silent command to change your mind.

He grabs your wrist and starts pulling you along. His expression changes in a heartbeat, and it's like you never said anything.

"They apparently have like a super long waiting list, but I got in pretty easily. Guess being well known does have its perks after all, huh?" He keeps talking in that same casual tone of his, which is starting to frustrate you to no end.

"Rafayel, I get that a rain check for the boat might not be easy if it's like that, but I really need to go home." You plead, trying to pull yourself out of his grip but he just turns to you, gives you that same expression that you're convinced only Rafayel can make properly, and then keeps going like you never opened your mouth.

You're baffled at his behavior, and by the time you recover, the two of you are making your way onto the boat.

"Now, I'm going to need you to stop looking so surprised, cutie." He reaches out to gently smooth his fingers over the muscles of your brows, which you will admit are a little tense from how you've had them raised the entire way here. "I need you looking as cute as you always do for the pictures we're gonna take here."

It was one thing to completely ignore what was practically a confession, another to blatantly ignore your request to go home, but the audacity to tell you to not be surprised at his antics? That was too far.

He tries to pull you along again, but you hold steady. He shoots you a questioning look. As if you're the one acting out of the ordinary.

"Rafayel, I want to go home," and you're proud of yourself for standing on business, convinced there is no way for him to just ignore that. In your defense, he doesn't.

Instead, he huffs, his gorgeous features taking on that oh so familiar, annoyed expression. His response is a short "no, you don't" before he takes a step closer to you, only to link your arms and pull you along with the new leverage that gives him.

Then, before you know it, you're standing at the front of the boat as it slides through the water. With no way home except a very prolonged dive.

Rafayel entertains you, and the entire situation had been confusing enough to distract you from his blatant rejection, but now that his weird behavior seems to be settling, reality starts creeping in. You're stuck with him now, so you'll have to keep yourself together until you manage to get off this boat. How vexing.

His first cough doesn't shake you out of the deep thoughts you're in and neither does the second so, Rafayel resorts to nudging you with his elbow when a red fish surfaces with a bottle in its mouth.

You look at him, but he pointedly looks away, like he didn't just practically poke your ribs out. When you lean towards the railing, the fish jumps, and the bottle flies towards you.

You're not actually in the mood to catch it, but your hunter instincts kick in, and in the blink of an eye, the intricate glass bottle is in your hands. You can see a note neatly curled up and tied with a bow, resting inside it.

"Wow, cutie, those are some reflexes." Rafayel feigns being impressed and then presses on. "You should open it. You won the bottle's secrets fair and square once you saved its life."

You narrow your eyes at him. This could not possibly have been more obviously set up by him. Though you will say, his sheer determination to have things go his way is admirable.

You comply, already knowing the only other option was to face his huffing and puffing before then having to comply after all.

The cork takes more effort to open than you'd like, and Rafayel smiles fondly at the slight flush that rises on your face in result. Once you unroll the note, though, your eyes widen.

There, in Rafayel's eclectic handwriting are the very words you'd strung up on your seagulls.

A beat passes, and Rafayel looks at you expectantly. A cute expression on his face, and for a second, you are torn between accepting just to keep him looking like that and raining down righteous retribution on him.

You decide you'd do both. "Rafayel, of course I'll be your valentine, but did you really ha-" his lips halt yours before you could complain at all and you feel said complaints melting away.

The kiss is sweet, Rafayel brings you into his arms as he starts to deepen it, you'd always suspected he'd be a needy kisser, but he pulls away before he gets carried away.

"Sorry, cutie. Couldn't have you interfering with my plans though, you have no idea how long I've waited to make this move." His voice sounds breathy, and his eyes don't leave your lips. His words are so sweet you could almost ignore how he's pretending this was your fault. Almost.

Yet, you'll let it slide. Because as he leans in for another kiss, you just can't find it in yourself to be upset with him.

[writingwordsgayly]

"what do you mean you woke up like that?" our paladin says, eyes wide as saucers, hand on his hilt.

"exactly what I said, rupe" a short reply comes from our armoured cleric, she is trying to pull off her helmet and is not succeeding

"no lulu don't touch the armour it's eeeeevil" our rogue mimics the cleric's high-pitched voice, "but you just wanted it for yourself!!!" he looks angrier then I've ever seen him.

the barbarian moves to pull the helmet off but the wizard steps in front of her holding up her hands and investigating the armor, mumbling about runes and incantations and studies, and I tune it out to start working on some songs.

"if it is cursed armor then simply pulling it off will do nothing more than harm her Jules, let me see".

the fifth spell fails to give us any insight, and the cleric is talking to herself, I've run out of songs to play as I wait so I rummage through my bag for rations I start handing them out to the rest of the party, the cleric stands abruptly when I approach hands raised beginning a spell. the counterspell leaves my lips before I am able to even hear what she was casting, the rest of the party is on their feet before the magic dissipates from the air. and I take a couple copper from my pocket to understand what's going on inside her head.

"I will not hurt him! he is my friend!" her voice echoes through my head, and a deep tinny voice responds

"they killed my last wearer they will kill you too" I open my mouth to defend myself but she is faster

"he wouldn't kill me! we protect eachother, we are friends, we fight side by side! against those who harm our world, our *home*" the armor seems to listen to her words, I see her nodding though I feel that it is not her moving her head

"what do you want" I hear her say outside of my head, I hear the armor's response in my head

"I want to serve you as I once served him" she considers, I feel it. she shifts,

"how would you serve" I try to caution her against it but I know she cannot hear us while they speak, I feel myself speaking but I truly don't know what I'm saying, I think I hear myself say demon king, but at this point I'm stuck in my own head

Upon his death, the demon king’s cursed armor seeks out a new host to wear it and its power. It found a match in the gentle cleric in your party.

[weird-is-life]

First date charm

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x singlemom!reader

Summary: You think that Bucky is too good for you

Warnings: fluff, mentions of food, like one swear word

Words: 1.1k

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

I'm so sorry, James... but I don't think I'll be able to make it to the restaurant today. Again, I'm really sorry, I don't think i'll be able to see you anymore. You send a text to James Barnes.

The babysitter cancelled on you last minute, and with nobody else to watch your son you had to cancel the date.

Yes, you were definitely bummed about it because the first day with him was pretty much perfect. He was such a gentleman, and it felt like you could talk to him about anything. And it was like you could see him in your future immediately.

But you can't escape the nagging feeling that Bucky deserves better than you, than a single mom with a kid. Even though it hurts you more than you can admit.

Bucky feels devastated when he reads your text. He doesn't know what he did wrong. He thought the things were going great?

It was Sam that put you two together, and at first Bucky wanted to throttle him for setting up the date without asking Bucky first.

But after the first date Bucky was more than thankful. You were so kind and lovely and beautiful, and on Bucky's mind all the time since the date.

So he doesn't know what's happened. He tries to call you like 3 times, hoping for more of an explanation than only that text. He even texts you a few more times.

He starts to get worried when you don't respond. He would be thankful even if you just picked up the phone to tell him to fuck off, but you don't, and it drives him crazy.

He waits for your response for 2 hours, debating on just going up to your apartment to see if you are okay.

But after the 2 hours it gets too much for him. His mind going to the worst possible scenarios. He can't help it. The years of trauma don't make it easy for him to live, and not worry.

He gets to your apartment pretty quickly, his motorcycle makes it easy to speed through traffic. He paces nervously in front of the building, maybe he shouldn't have come here.

He contemplates for a few more minutes, and then rings the bell. Maybe you will think that he's crazy psychopath for showing up at your doorsteps, but he has to make sure you're okay.

You don't expect anybody to ring the bell to your apartment as soon as you put your son to sleep. You definitely don't expect to hear Bucky's voice from the intercom.

His soft 'can I come up?' makes your heart flatter, and you buzz him in. He's up the stairs on your floor quickly. And of course, he has a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"James, what are you doing here?" you ask quietly. He looks so handsome for the cancelled date, and it makes you feel even worse.

"I'm sorry for showing up...You weren't answering your phone, and-and I was worried." He looks apologetically at you.

"My phone....oh-" you quickly dissappear into your apartment, searching for your phone.

Bucky doesn't mean to snoop, but with the door wide open he notices all of the toys and kids stuff. His mouth goes dry a bit.

"I'm sorry, James, I had my phone on quiet.....," you stop talking when you follow Bucky's gaze. His eyes roaming all over the things.

"What's all this? You have a kid?"  Bucky looks baffled, like he just saw a ghost in front of him.

"Yes." You admit, guilt for not telling him all over your face. You thought that Sam had told Bucky about Teo, but you realised on the date that he hadn't.

You wanted to tell him, you really did. But you just wanted to see how the first date goes first. And in between the first and the second date the thoughts of Bucky being too good for you settled in your mind.

I mean, he's so charming, and probably the nicest man you have ever met. He's also so so respectful. And god, he's so handsome as well, those piercing blue eyes? To die for...

"I wanted to tell you, Bucky. I just....you deserve someone else. Not me with a kid. I-I loved our date, but I know what guys think about women with kids. It's not very attractive...," you sigh. You have experienced rejections from guys because of Teo before.

"Wait, wait, wait, doll. Did I give you the impression that I'd care about such things?" Bucky almost immediately asks. "I don't care that you have a kid, I like you, and I loved the date with or without knowing that you have a kid."

"You say that now, but what about when-" he interrupts you before you can finish.

"Doll, I like you! How about we just take it one date at a time, yeah? Let's see where this goes?" Bucky tries to reason with you. He doesn't want to let you go without even getting to know you properly. Like fuck, he hasn't felt this kind of connection in a long, long time.

"Are you sure? 'Cause I'd understand if not, I really would," you try to give him a smile to convince him (and yourself) which doesn't really work.

Bucky slowly takes your hand into his, and squeezes your hand in reassurance, "I'm very sure. I like you, and I don't know If I should be a little offended that you thought I'd mind that you are a mom.."

His attempt at lightening the mood is successful. You chuckle at his words, and he gives you a smile in return.

You eye the bouquet of the flowers in his other hand,"are those for me?"

"Who else?" Bucky murmurs teasingly as he hands you the beautiful flowers.

"Thank you, Bucky. They are beautiful," you say sheepishly, "but I still can't go on the date today. There's nobody who can watch Teo." You tell him a little disappointed.

"No, that's okay, doll. I just wanted to make sure that we were okay, but more importantly that you were okay. I should go tho," he says, and leans down bravely to kiss your cheek goodbye.

He can see your cheeks go rosy instantly. The blush making you even more pretty.

"W-wait, Bucky," you catch his hand before he can turn away, " you could stay, Teo is asleep....we could order pizza or-or whatever you like." You almost face slap yourself for acting like some unsure teenager in love. Stammering over your words.

Bucky thinks it over for a few seconds before he smiles at you," I'd love to, and pizza sounds fantastic."

"Great, c'mon." You happily pull him after you inside the apartment while apologising for all the mess. But Bucky couldn't care less about that, he's just more than happy he gets to spend time with you again.

[nabi-unveiled]

Hagiwara isn't off the hook.

He shares responsibility in the state of his and Kaori's relationship, and I'm not talking about the cheating.

Put down your pitchfork. Just hear me out.

I adore Hagiwara. He cheated. I don't care. I have mentally added him onto my list of "good boys". I will make a special category just for him.

I'm also not making excuses for Kaori. She must own up that she kept Hagiwara on a string while knowing it was hurting him.

However, their relationship was doomed to fail. They need different things. Kaori needs a relationship where sex isn't expected, and Hagiwara needs a relationship where he can be fully open and honest with his feelings and desires. Frankly, he needs something deeper than Kaori can offer, and I'm not talking about sex.

But the relationship shouldn't have lasted this long, and that's on BOTH of them. It's perfectly okay that Kaori doesn't want sex. It's perfectly okay that Hagiwara does want sex (and intimacy). The problem is that neither of them communicate about it.

Before we go further, there are some points that need to be established. Also note - the symbols are EVERYTHING to me.

1 - Kaori/Hagiwara's relationship is NOT the same as Fujisawa/Sei's.

Their relationships share similarities, but they are NOT the same.

Sei's relationship with Fujisawa developed as a trauma response to a violent car crash. It has carried violent undertones the entire time.

The symbols convey that Fujisawa has methodically trapped Sei in this relationship.

But Kaori and Hagiwara's relationship? It starts with a romantic meet-cute. It was warm. It had saturated colors.

Their relationship does not have a violent undertone. It has an undertone of passivity and complacency. Of note, Hagiwara didn't initiate anything in this relationship. He's waited on Kaori's lead.

The door is open. Hagiwara could leave at any point.

These two relationships also do not have the same power dynamic. Kaori DOES control many aspects of the relationship. However, Kaori has control of the relationship because Hagiwara lets her. Fujisawa has control over his relationship with Sei because Fujisawa demands it. There is a difference.

In fact, the show actually has already acknowledged that there are different types of "controlling". The coworker's relationship isn't painted as unhealthy. Some of us may see it as unhealthy, but the show doesn't give ANY indication of that itself in sound or symbols.

2 - I am in the camp that thinks Kaori DOES like or care about Hagiwara.

Not because I believe her words, but because I believe in the symbols. Kaori made Hagiwara rice.

The rice that represents home and affection? Kaori made it. It's just her version had a sour plum in the middle.

And when she offered it, Hagiwara willingly chose to eat it. He knew the plum was there, and he ate it anyways.

In this week's episode, Kaori explains herself, and she's in black. This is not a typical color for her. She may be smiling, but she is mourning.

We could discuss in length about whether emotional abuse is in play here or if it's just an unhealthy relationship. That's not really the point of this post. Either way, we know that Kaori was finally being honest and vulnerable.

WE SAW HER FEET.

Feet shots happens when our character's true feelings and motivations are exposed. Sei has beautiful heels (desires) but his toenail is broken (😭 Just like his Sim card, but I can't go there right now). Both Kaori and Hagiwara have feet shots too. No broken toenails. In this case, Kaori's feet stop moving. Unlike Fujisawa whose body moves on it's own, her body won't move. We haven't seen Fujisawa's feet.

Kaori can't make herself take action to deal with the situation with Hagiwara. Her choices are selfish, and they hurt Hagiwara. However, I actually think that's very realistic and very human. In unhealthy relationships (and even healthy ones), we can often hurt the people we care about. It's not easy leaving an established relationship. Especially, one that you want. We're not all as altruistic as Hagiwara.

But Hagiwara isn't off the hook.

He shares responsibility in the relationship lasting until this point.

Sei admits his relationship has problems.

But Hagiwara? He denies that they have a problem at first. He's choosing to ignore reality. A conversation with Sei later shows it too.

He wants to believe they've been honest with each other.

Even though he's not verbalizing his actual thoughts to Kaori. For those that don't remember, he has an entire sequence in his head at the BBQ with their friends of what he wants to say. But he doesn't say it. He's not being open and honest with Kaori.

He's also hiding what he truly desires. Kaori didn't say he couldn't drink the sweet coffee. She said it was unhealthy. Sei said it was unhealthy too. He drank it around Sei anyways.

He even bought it FOR Sei even though Sei thought it was too sweet. Hagiwara initiates with Sei.

It's actually been shown that Kaori doesn't care what Hagiwara eats. He's allowed to eat whatever he wants. Kaori isn't telling Hagiwara to go to sleep or eat the yogurt.

She controls sex (and maybe their social agenda). However, unlike Fujisawa, Kaori doesn't keep tight control on Hagiwara as a person.

Unlike Sei, Hagiwara isn't isolated. There's no traumatic backstory. He's more self-confident than Sei. Unlike Sei, he talks about the things he CAN do rather than things he can't. For example, in episode 1, he mentions that "he's good" at organizing parties.

Unlike Sei, he's not trapped in a locked room.

His affection might have been contained and hidden. I think he wonders whether Kaori has things she has to keep inside, because he knows there are things that he keeps inside. But...

He's not trapped. He's stuck. There's a difference.

Hagiwara didn't forget his ID. He didn't forget who he was. He lost his ID, because he's losing confidence in his relationship.

But he's still walking around this building freely. Apparently, he's been walking free without that ID for months. And when he gets a new ID? He chooses to put it back in the case that Kaori gave him.

He wanted to change his picture, but he hadn't taken the steps to do so. He could've changed the situation by being frank with Kaori at any point. Just like Kaori, he avoided. He has chosen to stay.

He chose not to call Kaori out. He doesn't like making people uncomfortable. His nature is to prioritize the other person. Unlike Kaori, his avoidance is inherently unselfish. But it got him stuck. I'm someone who was actively taught to avoid confrontation and to always think of others first. This hits hard.

Kaori was too selfish, but Hagiwara wasn't selfish enough. Being a little bit selfish is a good thing.

He chose NOT to talk about sex with her. He's not comfortable bringing it up with her, because he's not open with her.

Kaori doesn't communicate about sex, because she's afraid that not wanting sex makes her a bad woman. She's surrounded by heteronormativity after all. As @babyangelsky points out, this is what society treating libido as swamp does to you.

Hagiwara doesn't communicate about sex, because he's afraid prioritizing sex makes him a bad man. After all, wouldn't breaking up with his girlfriend just because of sex make him a bad person? Isn't his desire just making the river murky with swamp water? Stupid swamp. He doesn't realize sex is not the real issue. In the end, he has chosen to stay in this relationship even though he's unhappy.

It's why I had positive thoughts about the breakup scene. A lot could be said about Kaori forcing Hagiwara to be the one to breakup, but I was actually glad that Hagiwara said it. It was on both of them that the relationship lasted this long. Neither of them had been willing to speak up about what wasn't working. They both stayed stuck.

Hagiwara is finally speaking his mind. He calls Kaori out.

Hagiwara is no longer being passive. He's asserting control.

Hagiwara is no longer hiding what he wants. He's being open.

Hagiwara is now taking action to change the picture on his ID.

Previous posts about Hagiwara:

The Desire to Be A Good Man

I also have two additional posts about Hagiwara in my drafts. I'll try to get them posted this weekend.

[aayakashii]

For seven days (non-consecutive) I'll be posting Valentine's Day themed headcanons for each House in Tokyo Debunker!

All prompts come from this post here ♡

And dividers are from @saradika-graphics 🫶

Taglist: @wannaberecluse

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

Valentine's Day in Jabberwock

Haru

how does he show affection?

Through his touches and his words. Haru is extremely touchy, constantly squeezing you in a hug as soon as he sees you and always holding your hand. He likes to pinch your cheeks, boop your nose, and call you all sorts of cheesy nicknames. He's open with his affection and has no qualms with saying how much he's in love with you. Sunshine in human form.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

LOVES hugs. Sometimes you need to remind him he spent hours under the sun, doing heavy work and he's SWEATY, because his base instinct when he sees you is to give the biggest bear hug. He even rubs his cheek against your hair while he talks about how much he wanted to see you and all the things he needs to show you.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's good at that type of silly flirting where you can't help but be endeared by how goofy he is. He'll be saying things like "you know what's in the menu? 'Me n u' gyahaha!" while nudging you with his elbow. You may roll your eyes and slap your forehead, but you always give in to him in the end.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

He's kinda bad at it. It's best if you tell him what gifts you expect. Otherwise, he will give you some random home appliances that he wanted to buy all along and will use you as an excuse to get it. It's all in good heart, though, because he genuinely believes you'd like it as much as he does. Now, if you tell him what you'd like as a gift, he'll definitely get what you asked for.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Quick. Haru thinks being in love is a great thing. Why make things difficult? He just walked up to you after he realized he was in love and let you know about it. If you don't feel the same, that's okay. He'd be sad for a little while, but life would go on. It's a good thing you feel exactly the same as him, huh?

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Very easy. He's very open with his emotions. When he's sad, he's openly sad. When he's angry, he's explicitly angry. When he's in love, he's gonna let you and the whole world know about it. There's no mystery to it.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

Not really. To be honest, Haru has a hard time noticing when someone might be taking a pass at you, so it usually flies over his head. And he feels very secure in his relationship with you because he trusts you the most. After all, you're his partner, so he's completely sure that you won't hurt him ever.

what is his ideal date?

Just spending the day with you without the burden of his whole House on his back. Jabberwock is constantly in Haru's mind, the animals, Towa, and Ren. He would love to have one day with you in which he didn't need to worry about anything. It doesn't matter what it is, he just wants to be fully present, with just you in his mind, for once in his life.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Haru will propose, but it's not due to him wanting to be the one who does it. It's just that he's impatient – if it depended on him, you two would be hitched from the very beginning. He just decided to wait a reasonable (not really) amount of time before popping the question so he wouldn't scare you

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Great for creating a special Valentine's Day safari and getting some extra cash in Jabberwock’s empty vault. He tells you beforehand that he'll be busy due to the influx of people and apologize for not being able to spend all day with you. He'll give you special treatment if you visit him during the day though. (Offer yourself to help him with the tours and he'll basically cry out of happiness).

does he get protective easily?

Very much so, which is why you have a bunch of apps you've never seen before suddenly installed in your phone. Haru is busy, so he can't be constantly around you, but he makes up for it with the most obsessive surveillance known to man. If one of his apps beeps, alerting him that you might be in distress, he's immediately at your side (because he knows your location 24/7, obviously).

does he believe in true love?

Yes. He was always sure it existed all throughout the world, even if it never came to him. But once you two got together, he believes in it even more.

Towa

how does he show affection?

Through himself as a whole. Everything he does is a way to express his love for you. He's constantly hugging you, kissing you, giving you flowers, and looking into your eyes as if you're the prettiest human being he has ever seen. And during the night, he tells you exactly that.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

Loves them. He always tackles you plenty of times per day, every day, in the tightest hugs known to man. He always leaves you breathless, with a few leaves stuck on your hair and clothes, and the earthy scent of wildflowers. He loves even more when you take the initiative and hug him first, though. It always ends up with him whining because you said that no, he can't just keep hugging you all day.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

He's good, but it's not really intentional. Most times, when he wants something from you, he just explicitly says it, like saying he wants a kiss or attention. But then when you two are watching the stars and he looks at you and says you're cute, you can almost believe he knows exactly what he's doing.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

Well... Towa is just gonna give you flowers. He'll make offerings of all the prettiest flowers with the most romantic meanings, but it'll always be flowers. If you tell him you want something else, it probably won't work and he'll be pouting, thinking you don't like his offerings.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

Very quick. If he falls in love with you and decides you're his soulmate, he'll immediately let you know that you're his. There's no sense in dilly-dallying. Time apart from his soulmate is time wasted.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Easy. Why would he think that he can't say 'I love you' to his partner? Isn't it the whole point? Avoiding his feelings is the last thing in his mind.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

He's jealousy personified, to the point that he might be an actual danger to your friends and colleagues. Towa hates when your attention isn't on him. He hates when someone tries to steal you away from him (aka a teacher required your presence while you were hanging out with Towa). It's a good thing that the stormy clouds are quickly dispelled just by having you back at his side.

what is his ideal date?

He has his ideal date with you every day. He just needs you, fully focused on him, laying down beside him under the starry sky. To make it even more perfect, maybe you two could be surrounded by his favorite flowers, but he's plenty satisfied with things as they are.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

Surprisingly, he doesn't think too much about it. His fairytale-like dreams always stopped right when he found his destined partner and decided to live happily ever after. He never got to the wedding part of it all. You might be the one to ask first, and he's fine with it. If you want to make your bond even tighter, he's happy to oblige.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

He knows about it. He thinks it's fun to see Kaito getting all flustered about being confessed to, but he genuinely thinks that's all that Valentine's Day is – a day to confess to crushes. Since you two are already together, he thinks it isn't important anymore. You have to explain to him that established couples also celebrate it, and as soon as he finds out, he'll be pouting. Why didn't you tell him beforehand?

does he get protective easily?

It comes with the awful jealousy. Everyone is a threat, everything could take you away from him. The only way to quell his worries is by letting him stay by your side 24/7. There's no other way around it.

does he believe in true love?

Of course. Otherwise, soulmates wouldn't exist. You two are proof of it.

Ren

how does he show affection?

Through his actions. He's bad with words and emotionally constipated, but he shows he cares for you through little actions he would never do with anyone else. He'd pick up medicine and food for you if you're sick; he'd quietly spend time with you if you need company; he'd try to make you play his games and watch his movies and do the same with yours. Textbook tsundere.

does he like hugs? what are his hugs like?

He acts and says that he hates them, but immediately sulks when you let him go and apologize for the sudden hug. He loves YOUR hugs, but no one else's. His hugs are awkward and stiff (he might even give you some pats on the back) but you make up for it with enthusiasm.

is he good at flirting? how does he flirt?

Terrible. Doesn't know what he's doing, can't flirt to save his life. Incapable of winking and would die before asking for a peck on the cheek. Most times, you're the one flustering him because even if you're bad at flirting, you're not as bad as he is.

is he good at gift - giving or does he struggle to get it right?

Kinda good, actually. He listens to you when you're talking about your hyperfixations, so he knows about your tastes. His gifts might not be very romantic, though, unless a Lego set or some rare doll you mentioned twice is romantic to you.

is he quick or slow to give his heart away?

SLOOOOOOWWW. Ren will deny his feelings for you until it is physically, mentally, spiritually, and metaphysically impossible to deny that he's madly in love. He'll be blushing, leaning towards you, looking at your lips with a hand over his racing heart, but he still has the gall to say that maybe he's just sick.

does he find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Terribly hard. If he's that bad at admitting his feelings to himself, how would he admit his feelings for you? Again, he tries to compensate for all the times he can't voice his love openly through acts of service, but it's all very annoying and frustrating to him.

does he get jealous in a relationship?

It's a dangerous mix of jealousy and self-deprecation. He thinks you'd probably do better with someone who isn't a shut-in like him or someone actually in touch with their emotions. So, any little interaction between you and another person triggers his jealousy. He gets passive-aggressive and sulks until you finally get tired of his antics and slap his head to snap him out of it. Having a tsundere as a boyfriend isn't always cute after all.

what is his ideal date?

Just being able to spend time with you without Haru interrupting would be enough. He wants to have a date in which you two watch all your favorite movies together and eat the best snacks to your heart's content without being suddenly jumpscared by a red-headed man barging into the room.

would he ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He didn't even know he was going to date someone ever, so a wedding was out of question. Not that he minded, he always thought the ceremony sucked. However, now he feels like proposing to you first is a way to show you how much he cares and how much he genuinely loves you without using words. A ring to represent all the times words shouldn't have failed him.

how does he feel about valentine’s day?

Hates it. Ren thinks it's a capitalist holiday that wants to bleed couples dry of their money, not to mention that the atmosphere is awfully cringey and he would never be caught dead buying overpriced chocolate and ugly plushies. Well, that was until he started dating you (he still thinks all that but now he buys the things).

does he get protective easily?

Not really, because he usually feels like he needs protection as well, what with all the unfortunate events that tend to happen to him. He will try his best if you're in imminent danger, but during his day-to-day life, he just trusts in your capability to stay in one piece.

does he believe in true love?

CRINGE. he kinda does because of you