#I just think there's. problems. with the pacing

[rahuratna]

All right, to start with, I'm always a sucker for great world building and alternate settings, and this piece reflects exactly that. Before I get into the meat of the story, a couple of things:

This story is written in such a way that each paragraph feels like a cog in a larger timepiece, ticking inexorably to its passionate conclusion. I'm not sure how you managed that, but it contributes so much to the development of sexual tension between them, and the reader is placed on a little clockwork cart and pitched along at the pace you set. This control you exert over the pacing is just excellent.

Second, I love stories that transport you to a place of almost isolation, where descriptions of people and places are so vivid, but intentionally slip by you by like scenery on a journey, because the electricity between the main characters is your destination, what you're fixed upon. It's reflective of that true passion between lovers, where love becomes a cocoon and the world patters against the outside, never breaking the spell you cast upon one another.

As someone who worked in a lab, and moved to a profession where I'm pretty much surrounded by large numbers of people daily, I feel Nanami, lol. I would also love the quiet refuge of a place where I dedicate myself to my work. The evolution of the attraction between him and the Reader feels almost inevitable from the time she passes his test. The solution she finds is direct, breaking down a problem that seems complex into simpler parts to achieve an end,  the very essence of creating timepieces.

The sexual tension is also drawn into this theme of elaborate dance, precision and timing. Kento's hands using the Reader's to 'perform miracles', the intimacy of such a position made necessary by work, the way his presence is so strong but never overbearing, all captures the essence of Kento as a romantic/sexual partner.

Also, I LOVE the way the references to the time period make it very clear where and when we are, without ever needing to be explicitly stated. The mention of the lamplighter, of Spring Heeled Jack, were all exactly the thing I needed on this rainy afternoon. For atmosphere. Yes. Lol. I mean, yes, I too would give Reader a piece of my mind for wandering around after dark, especially after an allusion to the Whitechapel murders are made.

Please don't kill me for this: She wanted to deliver the package, but ended up with a bigger one LMAO. At least the man is self aware, he knows he's no size for a first timer. The descriptions of the undressing as an act by itself is so telling. It's such a contrast to the order and mechanical rhythm of their day to day interaction, a loss of that fine veneer of gentility, a reveal of the 'animal' beneath that Kento speaks of. The loss of clockwork to the primacy of passion, unwrapped one layer at a time, is the best backdrop for the explicit nature of what happens between them.

The action of wetting his fingers with her saliva to put out the candle is so inspired. It's almost thoughtless in execution, a tell for how much he's been fantasizing about this.

I think my favourite part of this, strangely, was the way you wrote how they approached the bed. The description of how he knows the lay of the corridor between their rooms so well, because of the number of times he's paced it, his room, a place of peace and order about to be transformed into something so much more, your description of him 'stalking' her slowly up the bed as a continuation of the theme of a beast dressed in 'fine tailoring' was what really stood out for me.

The sex scene itself was such a great juxtaposition to the charade of proper conduct they carry out in the workshop each day, and the Reader character's direct nature, seen in the way she discovers her own sexual freedom through him, is reflected so well here too.

Another thing I've picked up is that although Nanami is clearly the dominant and leading partner to begin with, and it's reflected in what he says, his actions give her agency and the ability to explore what gives her pleasure, and there's nothing hotter than that. The idea of her falling pregnant doesn't seem an unnaturally conceived notion at all, because it comes through very clearly that she knows what she wants, and she always has. It's what drew him to her in the first place.

Finally, the conversation between them after passion has spent itself; while it seems on the surface that he's returning to his clockwork self, that's not it at all. That's who he always has been, he's just allowed the Reader to take him apart, expertly with pleasure, to see his innermost workings, and put him back together after. For someone like Kento, in this fic, that's such a declaration of deep trust and love. It expands on the title even further, one watchmaker recognises another in the art and synchronicity that builds between them, and in that, finds a complete masterwork.

Thank you for this atmospheric and beautiful read on a rainy afternoon, Haitch.

The Watchmaker

Newly employed as the assistant to a renowned watchmaker, you soon discover how deeply his obsessions run.

Warnings: 18+, boss/assistant relationship, mutual longing, loss of virginity, fingering (f!receiving), nipple play, hand job (m!receiving), creampie, gentle manhandling (consensual), breeding hints, gentle period-drama Nanami snippety-snaps and becomes unhinged, two desperate people getting far too sexy over timepieces and pots of tea

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It was unusual for a lone young woman to be lodged and apprenticed by a single man; and, yet, it came to be, when you alone passed the Watchmaker's interview.

You approached on dry cobblestones, to a handsome, deep shop, with glossy black and gold railings and doors. Your corset felt heavy with the city's summer humidity; the river held the heat like a simmering pan, and its heady stench threatened to consume you. You were used to being without a chaperone, but your modest dress and poor accompaniment drew more wayward glances in this part of the city.

You hurried into the shop, a brass bell above the door tinkling your arrival. Nobody came to greet you. You followed the voices to the back, the eyes of many timepieces following you, their ticking as whispers and gossip in your wake. You came, in time, down tiled steps to a workshop, warm and bright and full of men...naturally.

A single, cursive note graced a sign before the only remaining workbench.

Repair the clock.

Such meagre instructions for a sought-after job. In golden lamplight, a pile of cogs and a loose-handed clock face glimmered like dragon hoard. You cast your eyes, stroking your corset and heavy skirts. You nodded once, and reassured yourself, only once.

"You can do this."

The Watchmaker, a tall man whose broad shoulders and thick hands did not suggest one with a delicate touch, neither agreed nor disagreed; he simply watched, silently observing you like the many faces of his timepieces. You set to work before your audience. The Watchmaker came and went, seeking to observe the half-dozen men competing alongside you.

And, in time, half a dozen sweating young men failed one, by one, by one. The Watchmaker's disgust was apparent, and his sneers soured one, by one, by one, until the last young hopeful curdled like milk before him.

When the Watchmaker came to you, you and your box of gold were not at your station. He frowned, kept company only by muted ticks and tocks. He followed your trail, out to his walled garden.

The test would have been considered a 'trick' only by those who were angry that their lack of respect for precision and accuracy had been identified. You, who could not fathom such sloppiness, found an honest solution.

"A sundial?" The Watchmaker rumbled. You felt a rush of heat from fingertips to toes, untouched by such a voice before. Smoothing your skirts again, and finishing your adjustments to hide the heat in your cheeks, you nodded.

You had fashioned your clock face and myriad small clock pieces to form a glimmering sundial. You had positioned it just so, and confirmed its position with the time shown on your own, battered pocket watch.

The Watchmaker circled you, with narrow eyes that may contain humour were they not so scrutinising. He was impeccably tailored, you noted; a high, crisp collar and rolled back white sleeves revealed enough throat and forearm to make you sweat. An exquisite navy waistcoat nipped his waist only marginally more than his tied apron, and he hummed at your sundial.

"Not what I'd call accurate."

"I disagree. While it may not be very precise, it is accurate. The cogs for the clock couldn't be set in such a way as to make the seconds correct. They were always just out. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He almost smiled; his eyes certainly did. Nodding, and not one for hyperbolic praise, he bowed, instead.

"Nanami Kento. I would be privileged to offer you the role as my apprentice."

The earth formed a springboard, launching you to heaven, and it wrenched the breath from your lungs on the way. Checking yourself before you babbled over with incredulous tears, you choked out an answer on a sloppy curtsey.

"Even though-- even though I'm a woman?"

A scoff. "I don't see how that's relevant."

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Mr.Nanami sought your constant presence.

A natural timekeeper, himself, he sought the company of those like him, who would not expect him to partake in social niceties and small-talk. It was no wonder, then, that he became a Watchmaker, whose many-natured friends had the same face but twice a day.

While Nanami Kento was normally at peace in ticking solitude, the many hands and ceaseless seconds had eventually, as the years went by, begun to grind into an aching loneliness.

You felt it, as summer crisped to autumn, and frosted to winter-- his desire for your company. The way his obsession bloomed to include you alongside his timepieces. The way he lingered in doorways while you handled the customers' repairs. The way he seemed breathless when your smile sent another happy patron on their way. The way he would flinch if you brushed past him.

And god, how it burned you. Eyes downcast in reverence could not remain so for long, so magnetised were they to him. His silences were rarely cold, but rather, simply those of one who held his tongue until he had something to say; a far cry from the men you knew, who sought to usurp the monarchial peace through vocal domination.

Learning such craft at Mr.Nanami's thick, calloused hands, required intimate proximity; he would have to lean around you, at points, with his chest to your back. He moved your hands within his, teaching you the dexterity needed to repair a tiny watch with surgical precision. He leaned like this around you now. You could barely breathe.

"You were not wrong. Though not strictly right, either," he murmured in your ear, his breath grazing over your cheek. His hands held the tools in yours, using your body to perform miracles. You felt faint, flushed, hot against his body, and breathed a shaking breath, quiet in your frustration so as not to disturb the sleeping cogs.

"I want to be perfect, I-- I need it--"

An amused hum, used to your angry tiny mechanics. "You are perfect, thank you. Now let us make the pocket watch match."

As your hands worked in tandem, and another impossibly tiny cog found its home, you gasped in delight, relieved, and not thinking.

"Ah, yes, Kento, we--"

Mr.Nanami stiffened behind you. You backpedaled.

"Ah-- I mean, Mr.Nanami-- I'm so sorry--"

He did not seem upset, though his ears reddened as he stepped away from you. He murmured again, unused to being perceived.

"No, no-- it's quite alright-- I use your given name, after all."

With his face flat but his eyes alight, when you looked up at him in wary apology, he sought to reassure you with a smile.

"Really, please-- please do call me Kento."

"It feels...wrong."

"I...would not seek to make you uncomfortable. It is entirely of your preference."

Your heart drowned out the whispering whirrs of the room. You heard the tap of Mr.Nanami's feet as he ascended the workshop stairs, and blurted out.

"--Kento, I'll...I'll call you Kento. Please."

A pause. Another silence. Kento's voice tightened with something altogether more intimate.

"I fear I shall get used to it far too quickly."

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Too long were you lingering in your respective doorways, before bed. Too sweet, were the shared evenings in a firecrackle sitting room. Too electrifying, were the hands that met to pour just one more cup. Too intentional were the slim-eyed stares that burned down to the very bones of you.

If you died, and committed your body to science, the ghost of you would be unsurprised if a surgeon found Nanami Kento's name scored across your ribs; for nobody else could access that cage to your heart and soul.

Nobody else could warm you, during Winter fairs on the frozen river.

Nobody else could take your hand, to help you down the stairs at the Timepiece Exhibition.

Nobody else could still you with a look, or teach you with such few words, and this was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

Your peak hit you in a burst of static. You clasped your hand over your own mouth, as if it would sell you out for your filthy crimes. Still, you arched in your bed, your toes curling against the sheets, bucking up into nothing in waves. Clarity did not hit you after, for it had already hit you during, and had done nothing to still your fingers.

Rolling over, and pressing your face into your pillow after the ecstasy had passed, you held your breath. It was too quiet.

Your eyes sprung open. The muffled bustling you had heard from the bedroom next door, had stopped. You weren't sure when. The silence was deafening...until movement started again, more clipped than it had been before. You could feel him, moving with irritation, a prowling beast in a cage.

It was over an hour before Kento's own hand travelled down his belly, to grasp himself with whispered curses and pleas of your name. Long enough, he hoped, for you to be asleep. Long enough, he hoped, that he could hide this rampant obsession that was so wrong, so wrong, he's your teacher your mentor your--

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"I should think I'll be home for tea. Inspector Aberline's grandfather clock again. It has stage fright, I fear, for how often the Inspector stares at it."

Kento's words, from hours before, rolled through your mind again and again. The smile you had sent your final patron of the day on his way with, slipped away, for you saw the lamplighter beginning his rounds on the cobbles outside. The sun had already set; he was late, tonight. You'd have offered him a lantern, but without Kento beside you, you felt you would need its warmth and light more.

Your eyes flickered to a package on the desk. It was imperative, Kento had said, that this was delivered to the customer today. 'Today', as a concept, was growing increasingly more abstract as it threatened to expire.

You saw the deep, dark circles under Kento's eyes, in your mind's eye. He had not been sleeping well. He needed the rest. You could not bear to see him overburdened.

Taking a deep breath, and undoing your apron to replace it for your heavy coat and gloves, you tucked the package under your arm, locked up to the tune of the tinkling bell, and stole away through the night like a thief in the dark.

Clacking across cobblestones, and trying to diminish the noise of your boots upon them, you walked for what felt like miles. Though you were sure you were safe, in this part of the city, the darkness turned shadows into beasts of great renown.

Spring-Heeled Jack stalked you from the shadows. You clutched the package closer, walking faster, breathing harder--

"What the hell are you doing out here, at this time of night?"

You squealed, and flattened against a red brick wall. Kento, imperious and huge in a heavy brown overcoat, glowered down at you with unbridled rage.

"The package," you squeaked, brandishing it as a shield, "you said-- said it needed to be delivered--"

"And it is not your place to take it upon yourself to do so. Returning to find you gone, out delivering a bloody package, while there's a killer on the loose? Extraordinary." The coldness that Kento reserved only for others, now directed at you, was a bitter sting.

Still; Kento held out his arm, stiff. His lip curled when you did not immediately take it. He grew frosty as he waited, and you slipped your arm into his, to a mollified grumble.

"Come," Kento rumbled, arresting you in a hold so intimate against his side, "let us not waste a journey. The customer isn't far from here. It shall give you time to think about your foolish choices."

You felt furious tears prickle behind your eyes. Like a dog with a bone, Kento struggled to let his anger go, and you snapped up at him, "Give it a rest. You're not my husband--"

"--yet, if it would allow me any sort of say over your safety, perhaps I should be your husband." Kento had frozen, looming over you. Your belly twisted, your face hot. You turned aside, chastised like a child.

"I'm no girl," you whispered, venomous, "I can take care of myself--"

"In a world that places no value on women, why should you ever feel safe? Out here, instead of in my--"

It was Kento's turn to redden. His jaw clenched. His fingers tapped upon the package. You felt righteous anger bubbling over, and rolled the dice, in a stabbing final gambit.

"In your what, sir? In your workshop? In your arms? Or in your bed?"

Kento's stony impassivity was tested, but remained steadfast even against your snapping. But you knew him, now; you saw how his chest hitched, heard his knuckles crack, and caught the faintest flare of his nostrils. Ducking his head for a moment, and dramatised by lamplit shadow, he stepped in just once to whisper above your ear.

"You forget yourself. I am your mentor, and you are my assistant, and--"

"--and I've had enough of you pretending that's all we are--"

"--and it's hard enough not bursting into your room at night when I hear your fingers drag my name from your mouth, so if you will be so kind as to cease and desist, I will not have to press you against this damn wall to hold your tongue with my own."

His hissing reproach doused the argument with ice water. Numb-footed and stunned, you walked through treacle, as Kento dragged you to deliver the package. Your chest was still thickened by mortification by the time you approached the Watchmakers' familiar iron railings.

You found yourself pressed inside, hearing the door bolted with force. Kento's hands softened as they removed your coat from your shoulders.

"Bed," he snapped. Kento turned his back to you to light a waxdrip candle. White shirtsleeves billowed from the shoulders of his waistcoat, and he checked his pocket watch as if it would give him the answer. You reached one hand out, to bunch in the back of his waistcoat, as if a child, and he snapped again.

"Alone."

You flinched. You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. You swallowed hard, rolling the dice again.

"I hear you, too. In your room at night. The walls are thin."

"So is my patience, young lady, I will not tolerate--"

"You treat me like a girl to distance yourself from me, but pleasure yourself to my name? Please. You can make a fool of yourself but don't make a fool out of me--"

Kento spun with a growl, lifting you by the waist to drop you upon the counter. You squeaked, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself when he closed the gap between you.

"Do not act as if you know," Kento whispered, low and slow, "what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring. Do not act as if you know what it means to be reduced so, that I must spill myself onto my belly every night, to preserve your virtue.

I do not blame you, naturally-- it's my burden entirely-- but if you add one more ounce to my shoulders with that incorrigible little mouth of yours, I'm afraid your virtue shall be...under threat."

You couldn't deny the heat pooling between your thighs, now, trapped as it was by Kento's taut body. You couldn't deny your craving for such fabled bliss.

"How does it feel," you whispered, your hand creeping up the buttons of his waistcoat to stroke the silk of his cravat, "Kento? How does it feel? Do you use your hand, or--"

An agonal little choke broke past Kento's high collar. His eyes begged you to stop him. You felt his long fingers twitch on your waist.

"Do not ask me--"

"Please," you whispered again, just as desperate as him, "please, I need to know, I can't keep living life in the dark--"

"My hand," Kento choked out, his chest barrelling with the weight of his breaths, "I use my hand. But even in the dark, I can't seem to convince myself that it-- that it's--"

You felt him falter, and you begged him, your tugging loosening his cravat enough to see his throat bob behind it. Kento whined, begging in kind. His face twisted, as if the thuds of pleasure lengthening his cock were hurting him. The torture was sweet; you felt it, too.

"Don't make me say it," Kento pleaded, nose to nose and nuzzling from side to side, "I can't take it--"

"You can-- you can take me--"

"--you don't know what you're saying--"

"--I do, Kento, please--"

"--don't know what you're sacrificing--"

"--you wouldn't," you pressed, feeling his hands moving against his wishes to unbutton the back of your dress, "you wouldn't sacrifice me, I know, so just--"

Kento groaned, a sound so sinful, just to feel your dress release and slip down over your shoulders. Pinching the ends of your sleeves, with his fingertips grazing your palms and inner wrists until you shivered, he pulled. A gossamer shift of white ghosted over your skin.

"So many layers, upon a lady," Kento murmured against your lips, "like unwrapping a gift."

He sounded drunk, and the honeyrich pools of his eyes had darkened. You couldn't pinpoint the moment his resolve had crumbled, but crumble it did, with the tick-tocking eyes of many upon you. Kento grazed his fingers against your lips, ordering in a whisper.

"Open." You didn't have to, your jaw already slack as promise burned you at the edges. Kento swiped his thumb and forefinger across your tongue with a groan, and reached out, snuffing the candle between them.

What dim light there had been, died. None that breathed would hold court or witness to what Kento was about to do to your virtue.

"This will not happen only once," Kento murmured against your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you until you mewled. He cursed to hear it, becoming more unhinged by the minute. "I will take your maidenhood as a lover, but take your hand as my wife. You cannot refuse."

You could refuse-- you knew you could, in absolute safety, but such refusal would take his mouth from you with immediate effect. His hands would cease their insistent glide up, and up, beneath your skirts. He would stop rutting forwards against nothing, with each whimper that left your lips. He would no longer drag your bodice down with his teeth, to suckle at the plump swell of your breasts.

You nodded, breathless, your hands shaking against the buttons of Kento's waistcoat. He grunted as it fell open, and your hands settled upon his waist. His graze against your neck was more insistent, now, and sloppier; hungry, open mouthed kisses that suckled the salt from your skin. Occasionally, you heard him murmur, begging to you, or to his god, or to himself, for any sort of release.

Overtaken by need, you finished unbuttoning his trousers, and tangled your fingers in his hair, instead.

"Don't know what you're doing," Kento mumbled, drunker by the minute, "going to ruin you, I-- I'll ruin you-- I'm no sensible size for a virgin--"

"So you suggest I find some other man?" You panted, "You suggest I find someone smaller--"

"They don't fucking deserve you," Kento spat, forcing the last of your skirts up to grind himself at your core until you whined. With your corset untied, Kento tossed it to the floor behind him with disdain, and yanked the final layer down to free your breasts.

Shuddering, he gripped his cock to restrain himself.

"Divine," Kento whispered, ducking to nuzzle against the tips of your breasts, "I have to-- please allow me to--"

Without waiting for an answer, Kento lapped your nipple into his mouth with a groan. Suckling until you pleaded his name, with hot bursts of pleasure to your core, Kento's hands reached the crest of your thighs, and groaned to find more layers in the way.

"Buy you some more," he grunted against your breasts, gripping the fabric between strong fingers to shred it apart, "my apologies-- now, just-- oh, fuck, I--"

His fingers had slipped between your folds to glide through them. Needing to see you arch against the sudden intrusion, Kento pressed you back until you were lying on the counter, and loomed over you. You caught sight of him for the first time in minutes.

Kento was utterly dishevelled, unabashed, and too far gone. With his cravat and waistcoat hanging loose, and a long, thick swell beneath what remained of his unbuttoned trousers, he looked more debauched than your wildest fantasies. He twitched with the spurt of pre-cum that left his cock, to see you spread out before him.

Sniffing, and dragging one hand back through his parted hair, Kento scoffed at your look of glassy-eyed wonderment. His fingers curled through your lips until that sought-after arch graced his eyes, and you mewled again, your thighs clamping around his hips

"More than one of us can be reduced to a beast," he growled, circling your clit with calloused fingertips, "as you have insisted. I've taught you with these fingers before. Let us teach you something new; how it feels to peak upon the hands of a man."

"--o-oh god, oh god oh god--"

A bark of laughter, "--he won't help you now--"

"--oh, sir--"

"Try again."

"K-Kento!" You chastised through blinding pleasure. Kento chuckled again, intoxicated and made ruthless by it, and holding you flat by the belly as his hands worked miracles on your core.

"That's it-- good girl--"

The way he praised you had always brought you to a blush, but how he growled his praises while he fingered you to completion was another entity entirely.

Your hips rolled up, trying to fill the emptiness that his fingers alone couldn't. Your body was rendered base with pleasure, and nature's insistence that such passiveness should be used to leave your belly full of seed.

You could see that, too, in his eyes; an urge; a hunger that belied his gentle nature. In sudden clarity, you understood his cry of agony, from mere minutes before: 'Do not act as if you know what it's like to feel like an animal in fine tailoring.'

"--K-Kento, I-- I don't know if I'll-- it's too much, aches-- augh--"

Your approaching peak threatened to overwhelm you, and you squirmed and begged, though you knew not what for. Kento pinned you, with one splayed hand on your belly, and whispered you on.

"That's it-- don't be afraid...shhh, now. Good girl-- that's it-- beautiful--"

You came with thigh-clamping bursts of ecstasy, so sharp and static by the hands of another, that your belly ached and cramped with the force of the spasms. Kento's fingers slowed, massaging the pleasure out of you at length, though you could feel his body growing heavy with the weight of self-restraint.

You felt yourself twitching, crunching forwards involuntarily, with little more than broken whimpers and cries as he talked you down. Though, as clarity dawned in supple bliss, you felt he may be trying to talk himself down.

"...good...that's good, that's enough, I...I am satisfied, I..."

Kento lied to himself so exquisitely, as if he didn't palm his cock with one trembling hand. As if he hadn't pulled his shirt off to relieve the prickling heat of his skin. As if he couldn't kiss you because that, oddly, would be the intimacy that broke the dam.

You broke it for him, sitting up and wrapping your arms around his neck so he couldn't rear away from you. He tried, at first, with a grunt of surprise, gripping you by the waist. Feeling your lips against his rendered him dumb again, feral and nuzzling his nose to yours, like an addict in a field of poppies.

"Please-- I'm afraid I won't-- won't be gentle--"

"Bed," you whispered against his lips, "not alone."

Kento groaned again, cupping his hands beneath your thighs to lift you, and carry you up the narrow wooden staircase. He knew every shoeworn step in the dark; knew where the corridor dipped; knew the amount of steps between his bedroom door and yours, so many times had he paced between the two.

With his curtains un-drawn, only the cold winter moonlight lit the room. Meticulous, uniform possessions left meticulous, uniform shadows. The whole room smelled of Kento; of soft wax, leather and musk. In his room, in his arms as one leg flicked the door deftly closed behind him, felt like being brought home.

"If I show you how," Kento whispered, laying you on his bed, just to stalk you slowly up to his pillows, "will you...can I..."

You'd have said yes to anything. Without knowing exactly what Kento asked for, you nodded. He saw the absolute trust in your eyes, and stiffened, his eyes darkening with something more profound than need.

"Do you know what physical love entails?" He rumbled, nosing against your neck again, and depriving you of the first kiss you so desperately craved. "Do you know what it is, to be taken?"

You swallowed hard, feeling lead weights in your still twitching belly. You cursed the society that had sought your submission through ignorance.

"We...are supposed to fit together," you whispered, to Kento's satisfied rumble. Stil, it was not enough; you knew he would not continue past his insistent suckling of your throat, if you showed true ignorance, so you mumbled past your blushes.

"You...press yourself inside me, until...until you..."

"...go on."

"Until...you finish, like--like--"

"...like you did, on my fingers. Except, your completion simply fills my soul...metaphorically speaking. My completion fills you literally."

Your hand had trailed down his bare chest, reverent at his form, so different to your own and witnessed before only in fine art and statues. He didn't stop you as your hand trailed lower. He simply fixed you with a stare, that was half hope and half despair.

With rising breaths, you looked down between your bodies as you freed him. Animalistic relief twitched across Kento's shoulders, for the release from his confines. He groaned into your throat, husky in a way that made you throb. You longed to see his pleasure as he had seen yours.

Tentative, you grazed his length with the barest fingertips. Rigid, woody, hot, velvety, wet at the tip and so long and--

"Oh," you breathed, gripping him and feeling his heartbeat through his sex, and utterly unsure what you had expected, "feels...good--"

Kento breathed harshly, and had dropped onto his elbows above you, his face twisted in agony. He panted, fractious.

"Don't-- do not--"

Your hand flinched away, horrified for having hurt him, and he cursed, rolling off you to sit, strewn and messy and barely dressed, against the head of the bed. Your eyes fixed again on his manhood, heavy and twitching against his belly.

"I won't touch-- I'm sorry--"

"Don't stop," Kento emphasised, breathless, "don't...dont stop."

With a flush of heat in your cheeks, you understood the nature of Kento's agony, and it only made you hungrier. Crawling over him in the barest white undergown, to straddle his thighs and sit upon them, you reached out to grip him with one trembling hand again. Kento arched, moaning that rusty, desperate moan again.

"Show me? Like you do in...in the workshop."

"God, your hand is so sweet--" With his own hand, big enough to engulf yours, he wrapped around your grip to his length. Slowly, deliberately, and watching where your hands clasped around him with sweat on his brow, Kento used your hand to pump himself.

Feeling the glide of silk on iron made your core wetten and clench. Watching how Kento moaned, bucking into your joined fists and reaching up behind him to grip the pillows, was hypnotic. Within seconds, your hand had begun to move independently of his, stroking him with raw determination to witnessq his unravelling.

Kento groaned in time with your rhythmic strokes. His newly freed fist bunched, instead, at your hip, having rucked your slip aside to dimple shaking fingertips in the plush of your curves. You began to squeeze a little tighter at the tip, twisting a little, and making Kento see stars.

"Hah--haaaaah-- don't-- don'tstop-- better than any dream-- good girl, please, please--"

Your thumb swiped without warning across a bead of wetness that had seeped from the slit in his tip, and Kento swore, bucking hard enough to make you chirp and grip his thighs for purchase.

"--wait--wait-- I'll spill in your hand, wait--"

This didn't deter you; if anything, it spurred you on to faster and faster strokes. Kento writhed, sweating and gripping, and you watched the heavy balls beneath his length tighten up, and--

"--ungh--coming--don'tstop...unh--"

Kento's whole body tensed. His face fixed in divine ecstasy. You watched his length jerk in your fist with thick, warm glugs of sticky white seed. You stared, your new obsession making you want to stroke Kento's release between your folds, but you held him instead, feeling him rut into your fist to chase his high.

After what felt like a lifetime, Kento came back to earth, with a heavy chest. While lax, for now, something in the way he looked at you, kneeling above him and examining the way his release dripped down your forearm, told you he was barely sated.

"Always were a...a fast learner."

"Well, you always wrote me off as a child--"

"I did not," Kento huffed, a mortified, angry flush colouring his cheekbones, "I knew exactly the woman you were. I do not lust after girls. If I didn't separate you, I knew I would...I knew we would..."

You nodded. You had both fought to convince yourself against such inevitability. Pondering, and curiously disappointed in the aftermath of Kento's pleasure, you stroked his slippery length in your hand again.

"You're...still hard."

Kento's eyes flicked down, that animalistic hunger taking seed in his eyes again. When he spoke, it was low, and barely measured.

"It would not usually, but-- but feeling you above me, so close that I could flip you over and trap you beneath me, I--"

You felt your breath leaves your lungs at once. Kento winced, disgusted with himself, but you snatched it away before it could take root.

"Please-- I want that, please--"

"With all this seed, and more to come after I bury myself inside you, you will be with child within days," Kento spat, gripping your cum-slick wrists to stop you stroking another orgasm out of him. Kento froze; having been about to throw you off, he saw the look in your eyes. The look of willingness. That sheer determination that had taken you as his apprentice in the first place.

"You like that," he mused aloud, enraptured as you lifted your undergown away to reveal yourself in your entirety. With your wrists gripped in one broad hand, the other stroked down between your breasts, to settle, stroking, on the soft plush of belly just above your mound.

"You...like that? The thought of a part of me, growing inside you? The thought of me spilling myself so deep, it has nowhere to go but your belly?"

The thought made you lightheaded. Why? Why was the thought of the same sticky release that coated your hands, inside you instead, so alluring? Beast in fine tailoring a beast in fine tailoring a beast--

Kento rolled you over. The strength you always knew he had, carefully restrained by waistcoat and pocket chains, bore down upon you now. He kicked away his trousers, desperate to be as bare as you, and brought his sheets over his hips to bury you both in a warm little den. You shivered to feel his length rest on your belly and mound, so close to where you wanted him.

Kento shook his head, trying to see logic, "If I finish inside you-- you really will be in danger of bearing my child, you..."

His voice had faded, gobsmacked as you stroked your seed covered fingers between your folds, mulish and clipped.

"There," you snipped, "I've already covered myself in you, so that's that--"

"You are utterly feral, this is what I get for bringing a guttersnipe into my workshop--"

"--so you might as well just finish the deed, sir, because--"

Kento laughed, overjoyed by your fearless audacity. His lip curled, and he reached down again to stroke his sticky seed between your folds.

"You think that's what I meant by inside?" He pressed, so close to the entrance you had never sought to penetrate, "You think I meant here? No, my love...I meant here."

You squeaked to feel Kento press one thick finger at your entrance. You felt the briefest sting of resistance, felt yourself clench and buck. Kento stopped, and pressed a first kiss to your lips, so sweet that you rushed through a wildflower meadow in summer.

He stroked circles just inside your entrance, loosening you with the slick of his seed, and kissing you with an intimacy that felt so much more than all the sordid deeds you had stolen from each other so far.

"And when I say 'here'," Kento continued, his breathing getting heavier, "I meant deeper. Much deeper than my fingers could reach. In truth, I would rather break your maidenhood with my cock, than my fingers. Some...filthy little part of me, I think. I loathe it. But, since we are well past being dishonest with each other..."

"Want that, please--" you babbled, squeaking with the promise of being filled with the rod you felt dragging on your belly, "--please, do it, I need to know, need you--"

"You beg like you mean to corrupt," Kento grumbled, pressing a little harder against your entrance and shivering as you squeaked, "I was a good man before this...I think. Shhhh, shh shh...that's it...soften you up...good girl."

"Not a girl," you gasped, your voice breaking and your nails digging into Kento's shoulders. He laughed, a full, rich, deep laugh of genuine delight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his fingers were replaced by his cockhead.

"You are right," he rumbled, nuzzling his nose to yours again, "you're certainly not. At least...you won't be, in a moment." Nose to nose with you, and whispering into your mouth, Kento pressed insistently forwards, "Hold onto me."

You did, feeling a brief sting, and stretched and stretched and stretched and--...full. You whimpered, bringing your legs around Kento to embrace all of him to you. He grunted, and gasped, pulled to bottom out within you, when he had meant to take you slowly. You clung him inside you as he moved to pull out, and begged, afraid it was already over.

"Nonono-- don't come out-- stay--"

Kento bucked into you involuntarily, and groaned a godless sound, arching up and gripping the headboard, white-knuckled.

"Got to-- got to move, to-- to finish...but at this rate--Christ, you'll kill me-- god, can't-- can't finish straight away like a boy--"

If the pleasure of being locked into the warm, wet drag of your pussy hadn't almost taken Kento to the edge, the way you looked up at him with glassy adoration would. He moaned again, another certain stepping stone to damnation.

One more glance at you had Kento planting one forearm above your head, and plaiting his fingers with yours upon the pillow. He gasped, trying not to take you too roughly, and finally, whispered again.

"Hold onto me."

Smooth, and fluid, and with the barest scraps of self control, you saw stars to feel Kento drag his cock back to your entrance, only to fill you again. You felt the thickfriction drag, and its bursts of belly-deep pleasure than rendered you oddly submissive. You revelled in it; drugged, and sighing, your eyes slipping closed.

The drunken animal in Kento had returned in force.

"...feels...weird...good--- don't stop, Ken--"

"--sh-shit, won't last-- I'm sorry--"

Kento watched you in wonderment. Whatever pleasure your ripe core gave him, could not compare to that given to him by your face; your mewls, and sighs, and whispers.

You couldn't seem to whisper his name, though; it tasted so sweet upon your tongue, that you could not bear to let it go.

You could feel Kento losing his ragged self-control. Watching your face, the plush bounce of your breasts, and the way your thighs spread against your belly every time he fucked into you, was an otherworldly delight. You took it; gladly. Your pleasure built strangely-- deeper, and more powerful, and yet not quite enough.

Your fingers sauntered down your belly. In your addled, fucked-into state, you barely noticed what you were doing. Kento noticed, though, and growled, a droplet of sweat dropping from his forehead between your breasts. His thrusts deepened, harder and faster and desperate for orgasm.

"F-fuck...just like that...just like you do at night-- my name--"

"Ke...Ken--"

"My name."

"Kento," you half-sobbed, lost in his promise to fill you with the sticky cum that had dropped down your hand, "please--pleasepleaseplease--"

"--the begging, fuck, I'm-- I'm done, I'm-- ungh, fuck--"

You knew Kento must be finishing. You felt him twitching, and jerking, within the snug gripping heat of your cunt, ruined by him as per his promise. You felt the curious warm spill somewhere deep inside you.

You knew the look of bliss upon his face. Your fingers, still rolling the remnants of his seed around your clit, moved faster and faster and faster--

You arched, seconds after Kento's own peak had begun, into your own. You heard the headboard crack under Kento's grip, heard the rhythmic, fractured moans that may have been his and may have been yours, too lost were you both in oblivion.

The world may have completed one full turn. Struggling to hold himself up, Kento shook, dopey and half-asleep after filling you as he had threatened. You locked him within you, and held him like a lead blanket, nuzzling into his throat.

"Just...stay there. Stay. I like it."

"That feels...indecent," Kento mumbled into your neck. His uncharacteristic colloquialism was winding back again, and you felt the clipped man in the waistcoat and pocket chain returning to earth. You whispered, to his devilish laugh.

"How are we supposed to make watches together after that?"

"Carefully. Very, very carefully. As husband and wife."

"...oh."

[earlysunshines]

under the mistletoe

kim minji x reader ; fluff

synopsis: your ex is going to be at your cousin's christmas party so you convince your super cute gorgeous amazing stupid idotic hot best friend to play girlfriend for the night--it should be fine, right? it's not like anything real will happen... right? right??

warnings: fake dating but there's like no angst bc they're too gay to be doing all that (i can't write angst idk) ; making out!!! HOORAY!!!!! ; nerd minji my lover ; they're so gay ; kinda fast paced ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread!!!

a/n: wanted to get winter themed fics out for all three before christmas but that prob won't happen LOL anyways this idea has been marinating in my head forever, enjoy!!! oh, and merry christmas!!

“i hate jake.”

minji looks away from her phone, one eyebrow raised as she watches you sink into the cushion even further. this is the third time you’ve groaned dramatically in the last five minutes. 

“…jake is your cousin.” she points out, dryly.

“and the worst person on earth.” you mutter, setting your phone down beside you. minji watches you lean over until you flop against her with a very questionable posture. “he’s forcing me to go to his stupid christmas party.”

“and this is a problem because…?”

“because,” you huff, sitting up straight again. “my ex will be there. probably just to annoy me.”

minji immediately makes a face, scrunching her nose in disgust. “ugh, gross… didn’t she dump you for ‘personal growth’ and in that same month started dating a man?”

“i fear.” you reply, crossing your arms. “her egos so big that she probably thinks i’m miserable over her. i got over her the moment i found out she was with a man! she thinks im some stupid, emotionally immature—ugh.“

minji rolls her eyes. “i can’t believe you dated her—for four months.”

“not my brightest time.”

“it baffles me,” minji begins, “i hated her, you know?”

“oh, i know.” you glance at her, failing to hide a small smile despite your frustration. “you were not subtle about it.”

“well i wasn’t trying to be,” she says flatly, setting her phone down and looking at you properly. you peel yourself off her shoulder, moving yourself over to lay flat on your back your couch with one leg over minji’s lap. “so, what’s your plan? you can’t just go and let her get under your skin.”

you let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. “i don’t know. maybe i just… won’t go.”

“that’s an option,” minji starts, poking at the gingerbread man on your pajama pants mindlessly. “but jake will never shut up if you skip.”

“i know,” you groan, running your hands further up to grip at your hair out of frustration. “what do i even do? show up alone and let her pity me? she’s going to think i’m a loser—a bigger loser than the one she already makes up in her head.”

“you could just… not show up? make an excuse?”

“jake is pretentious—he’ll know i’m bluffing.”

“send him a fake screenshot of the thermometer showing that you have a high fever?”

“no, he’ll know.”

minji sighs, tilting her head as she studies you. “so what’s your plan then? cry in the corner? accidentally spill juice on her—or even worse—on yourself and hide in the bathroom?”

“you’re so mean to me.” you huff, sitting up and leaning against the opposite side of the couch now. you stare at minji for a bit, she’s looking at you with raised brows and a curious expression that makes you sit up straighter. “oh my god, i have a plan.”

minji immediately looks suspicious. “what kind of plan?”

“it involves you.”

“absolutely not.”

“i didn’t even say anything yet!” you kick her thigh, making her push your foot away. “just listen. you play my girlfriend for the night,” you say proudly, grinning at her like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

minji blinks. “what?”

“we date—not for real—for the party.”

she stares at you for a moment, then bursts out laughing. “you’re kidding me.”

“i’m not! think about it—it’s perfect. she’ll see me with you, someone way better than her, then she’ll get off my back, and i won’t have to spend the whole night dodging her.”

minji shakes her head, though there’s a faint flush creeping up her neck. “and why would i agree to this?”

“because you love me?” you say skeptically, giving her a stupid pout and your best attempt at puppy dog eyes. “please, minji. you just have to stick with me and pretend to like me and plus–you’ll get free food and drinks. please?”

minji hesitates, poking at the gingerbread man on your pants again, the same one right over your shin. you tear your leg away from her, expecting an answer. “i don’t know…” she mumbles.

“i’ll treat you to dinner.” you add, which makes minji shoot her head up.

“dinner?”

“whatever you want.” you promise.

minji sighs, letting her head fall back against the couch. “fine. but only because i can’t stand her either—and i kind of feel bad for you.”

you barely let her finish the sentence before launching yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug with your arms around her shoulders. you’ve pushed her down a bit, she’s holding your weight, and her senses are overwhelmed from the scent of vanilla that clouds you and the warmth radiating off of your body. 

“thank you!” you exclaim, your voice heavy with relief. 

her hands hover awkwardly in the air for a moment before resting lightly on your back. “you’re welcome?”

it’s only then that you realize how close you are—your face inches from hers, your breath brushing against her lips. you can feel her tense beneath you, her gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth and back again. her lips part ever so slightly, and the light press of her hand on your back falters.

the air shifts, something growing heavier on you two, but before you can dwell on it too long, minji gently pushes you off with a nervous laugh.

“y-you were crushing me,” she says, her cheeks tinged pink as she sits back, putting some space between you. “are you that happy that i agreed?”

“yes,” you grin, unable to stop the warmth spreading through your chest. “you’re the best, seriously.”

“yeah, yeah,” she mutters, reaching for a pillow and chucking it at your head. “just don’t get used to it.”

you groan when the pillow hits you, grabbing it from her hands and leaping over to get her back. you two fight each other playfully on the couch, you even knock minji’s glasses off her nose. and through the bickering, your heart skips a little when she’s trapped one of your legs between both of hers, and you’re trying to defend yourself while pushing her off—hyperaware of the proximity.

maybe playing girlfriend for a bit won’t be too bad.

-

after getting dumped months ago, the first person you turned to was minji.

she didn’t hesitate. the moment she saw your glossy eyes, she pulled you into her arms, holding you close until you calmed down. that night, she didn’t hold back her thoughts about your awful ex, and you stayed over, letting her cook you breakfast the next morning.

you’ve always been good friends, spent a good amount of time together, but somehow, after that night your friendship felt different—deeper—after that.

since then, you’ve found comfort in each other, always finding reasons to be together thrown in with superficial insults. sometimes it’s quiet—her sitting on your couch while you fold laundry and hum along to something playing on your phone, or maybe it’s you at her place while she studies. even when she hates chores, minji pitches in without complaint, and you never question why.

then there are the little outings: a walk in the park, dropping off a package, or now: grocery shopping. it’s nothing extravagant, but somehow it always feels like enough. it’s always enough with her.

you and minji are strolling through the grocery store side by side. minji holds a small basket in her hand while you grab and toss random items in with little thought. she’s squinting at a list on her phone, her lips moving slightly as she mutters the items under her breath. 

“i was thinking,” you begin, and minji looks up, quirking a brow.

“oh god.”

“you’re so mean to me.” you flick her shoulder before continuing. “if we’re going to be girlfriends, we need a solid backstory. something believable.” 

minji grabs a jar of almond butter and tosses it in the basket. “you’re overthinking this.”

“no, i’m not. what if someone asks us how we got together? we need a solid story,” you argue, “and i know jake is going to be interrogating me as soon as i introduce you—or at least curious, maybe.”

minji sighs. “fine. how about… we were hanging out, just the two of us, and suddenly we just fell in love or something. we confessed while watching a romance film, maybe?”

“wow,” you giggle, “that’s so original. super romantic.” 

“it’s simple and probably believable,” she says defensively, nudging you with her finger. 

“it’s corny.” you tease, turning and stepping into the next aisle. “how about this: we were at a concert and locked eyes and—”

“that’s even worse.” minji groans, covering her face with her hand.

“i didn’t even finish!” 

“exactly. it sounds like hyein made that up.” she snickers, “i can’t believe she’s also your cousin.”

“one cousin that probably won’t make it to the party,” you sigh in relief, “she’d blow the whole plan, knowing how we are.”

“what?” minji questions, curious as to what ‘we are’ is. before she can ask, you cut her thoughts off.

“we’ll go with your idea i guess. but we also have to spend lots of time together, more than we usually do, and we kind of just have to make it believable.”

“that’s nothing.”

“well i can’t really trust you on that, minji. you’re not the brightest.”

you two continue to bicker and poke at this whole ‘fake dating’ ordeal. as you head out to the checkout line, loading your items onto the conveyor belt, an elderly lady in front of you turns around, her eyes twinkling as she smiles warmly.

“you two make such a lovely couple,” she says, her voice kind. “you compliment each other so well.”

both of you freeze for a moment, caught completely off guard. you glance at minji, whose ears have turned a noticeable shade of red, and you can’t help but grin.

“uh, thank you.” minji mumbles, suddenly very interested in organizing the groceries.

you don’t correct the woman, instead leaning slightly closer to minji and whispering, “see? it’s already working.”

minji rolls her eyes and shoves you lightly with her shoulder, unable to hide her flustered expression. it’s different than her usual, calm demeanor, and you like it. it’s cute.

you laugh, nudging her back. “you’re kind of cute when you’re like that.”

“what?” minji asks, a lump forming in her throat. “you’re so… you’re so annoying.”

—

countdown: two weeks until the party

you’re doing your best not to think about having to drive almost forty-minutes south for jake’s stupid party at his stupid (-ly nice) house. instead, you’re at your usual cafe spot with hanni, danielle, and minji. the conversation is casual, filling the air, along with the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.

you’re mid-rant, your hands gesturing animatedly as you lean forward. “i’m just saying, if you’re going to take a lit class, at least try to understand the material. this guy skims a few pages of virginia woolf and pretends he’s a ‘feminist.’ he’s doing the absolute most to appeal to women—half that class is gay!”

“which guy was this again? there’s too many men you hate on.” hanni asks playfully, sipping on her latte.

“heeseung. oh my god,” you huff, leaning back in your chair. “he’s so fake. he’ll throw out random quotes that barely connect to what we’re discussing, and the worst part? half the class buys it because he’s loud and confident. he doesn’t actually care about the themes or depth of anything. all heeseung does is show up to class, dress like some girls ‘dream man’ pinterest board, and plays pretend.”

danielle glances up with a small frown. “that’s frustrating. especially since you actually like the  material.”

“exactly!” you say, stirring your straw around for no reason at all. “and don’t even get me started on how he turns every discussion into some weird way to hit on the girls in class. like, ‘oh, you’re so insightful. you must be really in touch with your emotions.’ oh my god i can’t stand straight men. i can’t stand people who enable them.”

minji chuckles quietly into her drink. the sound draws your attention, and for some reason, when your eyes meet hers, the air between you shifts. her gaze softens slightly, her lips quirking upward in a way that makes you stare a bit.

“he probably thinks he’s all that.” minji remarks, her voice steady but her gaze soft.

you falter for half a second, your rant losing steam. it’s not just the way she’s looking at you—it’s the way your chest tightens like someone tying a knot and tugging. it’s unexpected, and the way minji smiles down at her cup makes you feel all tingly inside. that’s odd. more than odd.

“yeah, exactly.” you quickly look away, ignoring whatever is making you do a double take. “he’s so one-dimensional, self-absorbed, and i hate him.”

minji bites back another smile, trying to keep her focus on her drink instead of the way you light up when you rant. she likes the way you talk, the furrow of your brows, the passion in your tone. she knows it’s a little dangerous, this quiet admiration she can’t seem to shake, the same admiration she pushed down your first semester. she’s gotten too good at keeping it to herself to lose now, and why now anyway?

hanni nudges you with her elbow. “at least he’s giving you plenty of material for complaints. maybe you could analyze him for an essay.”

you laugh, the sound warm and genuine. 

minji’s stomach does a little flip—she wishes it wouldn’t.

“i’d seem like a fan,” you reply, shaking your head. “i’d rather focus on something—or someone—that actually matters.”

the words hang in the air for a second longer than intended, and your eyes dart back to minji’s. it’s fleeting, but there it is again—the strange flutter, like time paused just enough for something to stir.

minji looks away quickly, busying herself by looking out the window, and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to hanni and danielle.

the moment passes, but the undercurrent lingers. neither of you speak on it.

—

countdown: nine days until the party

minji’s apartment is chaos, but the adorable kind. her two-year-old nephew is currently standing on the couch, holding a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other, refusing to eat the carrot sticks minji had cut up for him.

“you’ll like it if you just try it,” minji sighs, sitting in front of him. he’s sitting on the couch, towering over her because of the level difference. it’s almost comical.

he shakes his head, lying flat on his back and ignoring her.

you lean against the kitchen counter, biting back a grin as minji sighs dramatically and pinches the bridge of her nose. “you’re lucky you’re so cute,” she mutters, and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of her bickering with a child. she pinches his cheek and adds, “otherwise i’d be less lenient, you troublemaker.”

“he’s kind of like you. stubborn… and cute.” you tease, muttering the last part to yourself. you pull out your phone to snap a picture, minji whirling around a moment too late after you capture the scene. 

“aw, i’ve got to make this my wallpaper.” you laugh, walking over and sitting down next to her. 

minji rolls her eyes, shoving you lightly. “is this for our ‘fake dating’ thing?”

you hadn’t thought about that; in fact, you forgot about it for a brief moment. “oh,” you begin, looking at her with a strange confusion in your heart. “well, no. i thought it was a cute… candid moment.”

“whatever.” she grumbles, but her lips twitch into a reluctant smile as she returns to negotiating with her nephew. “but send me that, please.”

…

lunchtime comes with fewer arguments, mostly because minji bribes the toddler with nuggets. the three of you end up at a cozy cafe, not too far from the one you frequent with your friends. the kid is perched in a high chair between you and minji, eating happily. 

minji is effortlessly charming, coaxing him to eat some of the carrots she brought with her and laughing at the attempts of sentences that he babbles. her eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that makes your heart feel a little too full.

you snap another picture when she’s not looking—minji leaning over to wipe ketchup off the kid’s cheek, her expression soft and so full of care it marks your chest ache.

“why are you smiling like an idiot?” she asks, catching you mid-photo.

“no reason,” you lie, slipping your phone into your pocket with a small, secret grin.

…

back at minji’s apartment, the liveliness dies down and reaches something still, something quieter. her nephew gets tired from the walking that occurred after lunch, so when you’re all back home he’s tucked under minji’s arm, clutching his dinosaur.

minji’s in a crewneck and grey sweatpants with two braids resting against the pillow her head is on, loose strands fraying out. she reaches over to drape the blanket over the two of them, and you watch from the door frame as you lean on it. 

her eyes close from exhaustion, and that’s when you quietly grab the polaroid sitting on her shelf. it’s a spontaneous decision, but perfect for the moment. you turn it on, smile at the two, and press click. the flash catches you off guard, you’re afraid to wake them—but neither of them budge. 

the photo prints out slowly, and once it’s fully spewed out you shake it in your hand so it can develop. it takes a moment to develop, but once it does, the smile on your face grows and stretches from ear to ear: minji’s face is relaxed, peaceful, and her nephew eunwoo is nestled against her with a similar expression. you slide the polaroid into the back of your phone case—just because. 

as you turn to leave, minji stirs, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see you.

“stay,” she murmurs, her voice laced with sleep.

“minji,” you start, but she shifts a bit, making room for you while keeping eunwoo comfy. she pats an empty space beside her and grins tiredly.

“just for a little while,” she whispers, her eyes already closing again. “please?”

it’s the ‘please’ that does it. you hesitate only for a moment before stepping closer, your heart beating so loudly that if makes you wonder if she can hear it. climbing into the bed next to her, the mattress dips as you settle, minji instinctively drapes an arm over you, and it feels just right. the warmth of her so close is almost too much, but its perfect in a way you can’t bring yourself to think about twice.

you’ve always been fine with being touchy when it came to minji—lingering on the couch together, playful shoves, nudges, and maybe a limb or two resting on one another—but now? it’s much different. it’s easy to close your eyes and let yourself fall when she’s so close.

…

you wake up to the light outside fading, the room covered with the remnants of the sun shining through the window. minji is still beside you, her face turned toward yours, her breathing slow and even. her nephew is a small weight against her other side, pressed against her with the way her hand is angled and still clutching his dinosaur.

minji’s eyes flutter open just barely, and she looks at you like she’s still dreaming. there’s something unsaid in the way she gazes at you, something quiet and tender and a little overwhelming. 

you don’t say anything, and neither does she. but the more the silence stretches on and with each slow blink she gives you while her lips form into another small smile—you realize you don’t want the moment to end.

she’s close, warm, and comfy—that’s minji. you realize it then as the sun continues to set, as your breaths are the only sound filling the room, and as minji absentmindedly strokes her thumb against your shoulder repeatedly that you wouldn’t mind being her real girlfriend. not if it meant being this close to her whenever you wanted and getting to love her on a different level.

the thought doesn’t scare you. it doesn’t feel rushed or strange or anything too overwhelming. it just is. the thought simply lingers in the air.

she shifts slightly, her arm moving over to rest on your back before pushing you closer to her. she lets out a content sigh as a full smile takes over. your heart flutters, and you smile back, just as soft.

eunwoo stirs, a little groan wakes both you and minji up a bit more. his voice breaks the moment as he mumbles something incoherent, and you see his little hand reaching over and squishing minji’s cheek in the process, even messing her braid up a bit more. you laugh at the sight and minji turns to him, brushing his hair back gently.

“time to wake up,” she murmurs lowly. “your mom might show up soon.”

the three of you wake up slowly, with minji being the first one to rub her eyes and sit up first. before she tends to her nephew, she glances at you with a strange new feeling in her eyes and it makes you think that maybe she feels the same way. maybe she wouldn’t mind if the agreement could stretch to new years and further. maybe she wouldn’t mind if it weren’t fake.

—

countdown: five days until the party.

minji stays near your side as you navigate the packed clothing store with her, hanni, and danielle. there’s a variety of t-shirts that you stop by so you can skim through, dresses that hanni and danielle consider buying for their sisters, and assortments of accessories that you all try on together, snapping pictures to add to your favorites folder.

“this is hideous,” you mutter, holding up a sweater that resembles a traffic cone but ten times more saturated. 

“you should try it on,” minji insists with a smirk, already holding a ridiculous blazer with sequins lining it. “with this too. your ex won’t know what hit her, maybe the light will reflect off you and she’ll—”

“you think you’re so funny,” you narrow your eyes at her. “i can’t be the only one stealing the spotlight with my… hazardous outfit, can i? as my girlfriend you have to compliment me.” you grab the most outrageous pieces you can find—a neon, yellow turtleneck and pants that are somehow both plaid as they are glittery—then shove them into minji’s arms.

“so you want to play like that?” she grins, darting off to find something even worse.

hanni and danielle stand off to the side, watching the chaos unfold as you and minji start handing each other more and more ridiculous items for each other to try while giggling like middle schoolers. hanni’s shaking her head, her lips twitching into a smile. “they’re like an actual couple.”

“they really are.” danielle agrees, watching minji as she holds up a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers and waves them at you like she’s found gold. 

“you’re going to look amazing in these,” minji says, basically cackling.

“you’re going to look even better, babe,” you retort, putting a dramatically large hat on top of her head. 

the entire store can probably hear you two laughing like idiots as you head into the dressing rooms, but neither of you care. and when you both step out, dressed head to toe in the most absurd clothing, hanni is the first to burst out laughing, immediately pulling her phone out and documenting everything. danielle hides her face behind her hands, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. 

minji steps out and winks at you. she’s clad in an oversized t-shirt that says “elf of the year” and the glitter, plaid hybrid pants you handed to her. she looks like an absolute idiot, and you figure this might be the moment you really fall for her.

“you look so stupid.” you laugh at her with an amused look on your face.

“you know,” hanni says between giggles, “if you two show up to the party like this, you’ll definitely convince everyone you’re together.”

danielle nods, her cheeks pink from laughter. “you’re already convincing enough.”

minji glances at you, her smile softening just a little. “maybe we’re overthinking the outfits,” she teases, but there’s something in her eyes that lingers longer than it should.

you shake it off. “maybe.” you say, your tone playful as you walk back into the dressing room.

“you’d still look good in that, though. you do now.” she replies, but her voice is quieter, as if she only wanted you to hear it.

instead of letting yourself get flustered, you roll your eyes and step inside the changing room, looking in the mirror to see a faint blush on your cheeks.

— 

countdown: <24 hours

you’re curled up on the couch with minji since both of you have been much more comfortable with being this close. a movie plays in the background, her arm is wrapped around you, and a blanket covers your legs that tangle together. the movie is something light and easy—your pick, though you can’t seem to focus on the plot. 

minji feels your leg tapping up and down subtly against her, notices your tongue poking at your cheek, and the way your fingers fidget with one another. she’s aware of everything, of course she is. she’s sitting close enough that you feel her shift toward you, her presence grounding but not enough to fully settle your nerves.

“you’re doing that thing again.” she says.

“what thing?” you mumble, avoiding her gaze.

“the thing where you’re silently spiraling, fidgeting,  freaking out—the latter.” she says simply, turning to look at you. “what’s on your mind?”

you sigh, pausing the tap of your leg and fidgeting and everything else. you run a hand through your hair before letting your upper body go limp against the cushion of your couch and minji’s forearm. “the party… i feel like it’s going to go bad or something. my ex, she’s… she’s so unbearable and extra! she’s only invited because she’s friends with jake’s girlfriend and ugh i don’t even know if this whole plan is going to work out because she knows you and—”

“hey,” minji cuts you off gently, and before you can protest, she reaches out and places her hand on yours. her touch is warm, her thumbs brushing over your knuckles before she boldly moves her hand over to your face now, cupping your cheek. “it’ll be fine,” she assures, and her voice is so steady that you almost believe her.

you blink, your breath catches, then shivers when you breathe out as best as you can. she’s looking at you with her pretty brown eyes through the frames that make her look like a huge nerd while simultaneously the cutest person as well and—

“minji…” you start, her name leaving your lips before your brain can process it. your stomach is doing something stupid and fluttery, the tension crackles between you like wood in a fire, keeping you two in place, pulling you closer. 

you flinch at the sound of the abrupt buzz of your phone beside you. it snaps the moment in two, making you glance away from her as reality takes over again. she pulls her hand back slowly, resting them back on your hand instead. 

she leans back and lightly mumbles, “you should get that,” her voice quieter than before.

you reach for your phone, your chest tight and your mind racing as you answer it.

it’s jake. of course it’s jake. his voice on the other end barely registers, something about ‘you’re coming, right?’ and ‘don’t bail on me!” followed by a stupid chuckle. your thoughts are still stuck on minji, and you’re wondering if the tension in the air weighed her down just as it did to you.

the call drags on, you glance at her from the corner of your eye. she’s staring at the screen, pretending to be absorbed in the movie, but her fingers fidget with the blanket. you can tell she’s just as thrown off as you are. 

when you finally hang up, placing your phone back down beside you, minji looks over with a brow raised.

“jake,” you answer, even if she never asked anything. “he’s… yeah. just checking up on me.”

“right.” minji purses her lips.

you two sit awkwardly far from each other as the movie continues on, but eventually, you can’t take it anymore and return to your normal position. this time, your head rests on her shoulder comfortably, and your hands are intertwined. minji rubs her thumb against the back of your palm, and you think you could stay like this for hours.

–

countdown: finished!

minji parks the car and you take a deep breath in.

“relax, babe.” minji’s attempt at lightening the mood makes you smile softly. “we got this.”

“you sure?”

minji rolls her eyes, then takes your hand in hers as she does a rundown on your ‘relationship.’

“we’ve been friends for a while, i fell first but you’re the one who confessed first while we watched a romance movie—” 

you cut her off, “and?”

“and after that we’ve been glued together by the hip. i know your likes and dislikes by default, um, our first date was… by the river? bike rides…?”

“you don’t sound certain.” you tease, “but you’re right.”

“whatever. and that’s it. everything else is just… our um, friendship.” minji’s voice dies down a bit when she says ‘friendship,’ the word articulates as if it were bitter on her tongue. “now let’s go.”

you and minji are side by side, her shoulder brushing against yours as you step through the door. music and scattered conversation are heard throughout the house, and you instinctively stick close to her. jake is the first to greet you, his grin wide as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“you made it!” he beams, then his eyes dart to minji. “and this is…?”

“this is minji,” you introduce, your tone casual while your thumb begins to scratch at your skin.

“minji,” jake repeats, a teasing edge creeping into his voice. “didn’t know you were dating anyone… you know she’s here— well, never mind that. guess we need some more time to catch up, huh?”

minji laughs softly, her hand lightly grazing your arm. “it’s a recent thing, few months.” she says firmly.

“yeah, kind of a surprise for us too. it happened out of nowhere, but i’m really happy.” you add with a shrug, trying to ignore the heat spreading up your neck. jake raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further, to your surprise, and waves you both inside before giving minji a friendly side hug.

the party is more crowded than you expected, a mix of familiar faces and strangers scattered throughout the house. it’s not really a family gathering, not with the way jake’s friends have taken over the kitchen and living room. he’s always had a thing with turning events, even familial, social.

you and minji linger close, navigating through the small groups with an ease that surprises even you. every so often, while you’re greeting some mutual friends, you catch her glancing at you, a smile tugging at her lips and something in her eyes that you can’t decipher.

“when you said your cousin was inviting you to a holiday party… i expected it to be very formal and family-like.” minji murmurs as the two of you settle on the couch in the living room, plates of food balanced on your laps.

“he invites the cousins that are older and are on good terms with him.” you reply, rolling your eyes fondly. “he likes things like this. but hey, he’s fun, and he knows how to grill.”

minji laughs, nudging your leg lightly with hers. the sound is soft and warm, cutting through the background noise and settling somewhere deep in your heart. 

as the two of you eat, you find yourself leaning into her presence without thinking. her knee bumps against yours and neither of you moves away. 

“i’ll grab us some more soda,” you say after a while, setting your empty plate on the table and standing.

“don’t get lost,” she teases, her smile lingering as you head toward the kitchen. 

you glance back once, catching the way she watches you leave. it’s subtle, but it’s enough to make you feel like she really adores you.

…

cold air hits your face as you dig past cans of beer and bottles of wine while you shuffle through the fridge. you finally spot the sodas in the back and grab two coke zero’s, but the condensation already makes your hands feel slick and damp. as you shut the door, you hear someone clear their throat.

turning, you come face to face with her. it’s like being hit with a wave you didn’t see coming, but at the same time you were preparing for it. now that it hits you, it’s really chilling. her hair is a little different, her smile just as sharp, and she seems as pretentious as before. you’re surprisingly able to stay calm.

“hey,” you greet sweetly, forcing a casualness into your voice that you don’t feel.

she tilts her head, a little smirk forming. “hey, it’s been a while.” 

“it has,” you reply, gripping the sodas just a little tighter.

before the conversation can turn into something messier, a guy steps up beside her. tall, charming, and really just a face that resembles all the guys that she would compliment while you two were dating. “this is yeonjun, my boyfriend.” she says, her words are slow and deliberate like shes shoved a nail into your skin and twisted it.

you smile tightly, nodding at him. “nice to meet you, i’m an old friend of hers.” 

the air is heavy, and you can tell she’s waiting for you to falter. your hands are damp now, the condensation dripping from the cokes, and you’re wondering how to get out of this.

someone answers your prayers. a warm hand settles on your waist, grounding you instantly when the familiar warmth is recognized. then, soft lips press to your temple. your heart stutters in surprise and your brain malfunctions momentarily. you turn your head slightly, catching the familiar scent of minji’s floral perfume before you can even see her.

“hey, love,” love? that’s a new one, but you can’t say that you hate it—especially when it comes out so naturally from minji. 

she reaches over to take one of the sodas from your hand and when you glance back over to your ex—it looks like someone just slapped her. “minji?”

minji smiles politely,  her hand still resting at your waist, tugging at your waistband not so subtly. “yeah, nice to see you again. i was wondering what was taking y/n so long, i was getting thirsty.” she gives you a soft glance as she chuckles. 

you manage to recover quickly, leaning into her touch. her presence fuels your words, “i was just catching up,” you explain, gesturing toward your ex. “oh, right—you remember minji, don’t you?” you pause for just the right amount of time before looking at her lovingly, adding, “she’s my girlfriend now.”

your ex blinks, surprise evident in her expression. “oh. wow. i didn’t know… you two were—”

“yeah,” you interrupt, turning toward minji with a grin you don’t have to fake. you can’t remember the last time you faked anything with her, really. “she’s amazing. i’m glad we’re together, she’s lovely.”

minji rolls her eyes before moving her hand up to your shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “you’re doing that thing again.”

“what?” you question.

“being so fond,” she twirls a piece of your hair with her finger, “you’re too sweet to me.”

“because you’re my girlfriend, idiot.” you giggle right after that, and minji follows. “i’m not lying when i say all those things.” 

minji smiles at you, something mellow and real in her eyes. you can tell she knows exactly what you’re thinking. her hand moves over to cup your cheek briefly before she uses it to open her can of soda. she glances back up at the pair in front of you, your ex and yeonjun, giving them an intimidating glare—directly mainly to your ex. 

“we should get back, jake was asking about you.”

“was he? i guess we should…” you say, glancing at your ex one last time, her expression unreadable now. “it was nice seeing you again.”

minji steers you away, her presence steady and comforting as she leads you with her hand returning to your waist. you don’t miss the way your ex’s gaze lingers on the two of you, but that doesn’t cross your mind anymore. not when minji’s here, leaving you flustered and happier than you’ve ever been.

—

the living room is filled with laughter and conversation when you and minji step back inside. your cheeks are still warm from the cold air outside—or maybe from the conversation you just had, both of you had been reminiscing on how harsh minjis nephew eunwoo can be towards minji. her laugh lingers in your mind, and for a moment you almost forget where you are.

“there you two are!” jake’s voice cuts through the noise, and everyone turns toward you and minji as he gestures for you to join the group. “you’re just in time!”

but then you notice it—the small branch of green hanging above your heads: the mistletoe.

jake grins, wide and mischievous as if this were part of his plan. “looks like you two are under the mistletoe~” jake points out as if he’s a child.

the room quiets, and suddenly, every pair of eyes is on you and minji. your shoulders stiffen and minji’s hand brushes against yours.

you glance at her, and she’s already looking at you, her face flushed but calm. you’d stare for a moment longer, maybe tease her for how cute she looks, but you’re in the spotlight now. there’s something steady in her eyes, like she’s silently saying, it’s okay.

someone whistles, and the teasing murmers start, but they fade into the background when minji tilts her head slightly toward you, her voice low and gentle. “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

you shake your head, a small smile forming. “it’s fine,” you whisper back, “it’s just a kiss, right?”

she nods, her expression mirroring yours—reassuring, gentle, and maybe just a little nervous.

and then, without overthinking it, you both lean in. the kiss isn’t hurried or awkward—it’s soft and lingering, not too much but far from a quick peck. your hand brushes against her neck, and for a moment, everything kind of blurs except her.

when you pull back, the room erupts into cheers and coos of “aww,” but you barely hear them. your eyes are still locked on minji’s, her cheeks a shade of pink that you will definitely comment on later.

before you can process anything, her hand comes up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin. she leans in again, this time pressing a brief, tender kiss to your lips. it’s a kiss that’s not influenced by the branch above you, a natural, instinctive kiss that makes your heart stop beating for a bit.

you both pull away, a silent realization settling between you. something’s changed. something you can’t quite name but can sense in her dilated pupils, slight bite of her lip, and bright smile.

“okay, okay, lovebirds. sorry about my cousin and her girlfriend,” jake jokes with a laugh, breaking the moment and taking all the attention off you two. “i just wanted to thank you all for coming.”

his words don’t process, in fact, you don’t really hear much of it because minji’s fingesr slip between yours, warm and steady. as jake continues talking, you glance down at your joined hands and then back at her. 

you squeeze her hands lightly. the feeling is new, but it feels like it’s always been there. it feels good, it feels right.

…

once jake’s speech ends, you catch minji’s eye. there’s longing in her look, she’s asking a silent question and you have the answer. without a word, you grab her hand, weaving through the guests and slipping up the stairs unnoticed—they don’t know your cousin’s hosue like you do.

the hallway is dim, shadows playing on the walls as you pull her to a stop. before she can say anything, you turn, your hands finding her cheeks, and kiss her.

it’s different this time—no crowd and no stupid mistletoe hanging above. it’s just you two. you, and minji, with her lips are pressing against yours softly. she tastes sweet, warm, and familiar, and the way her hands rest under your jawline sends a shiver down your spine.

you pull her closer, hands moving down and pulling at the fabric of her shirt like you’re trying to stop yourself from losing your balance. her lips move against yours in harmony, in sync, and nothing else in the world matters except the two of you in that moment. 

when you two finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily—from kissing so much and from utter shock. minji’s eyes search for yours in the darkness, her lips parting slightly as she catches her breath. “come on,” she murmurs, tugging your hand gently.

she pulls you into a nearby room, and you barely manage to glance around before realizing who’s room it is.

“minji,” you whisper, stifling a laugh, “this is jake’s room.” 

“i could care less,” she cuts you off with another kiss. her lips are insistent, and her hands find your waist again, drawing you closer. “when i kiss you, i just— i can’t help but want to kiss you more and more and more and more.”

her confession is punctuated by kisses–soft, desperate, and consuming. you melt into her, your hands threading through her hair as you let her guide you toward the bed.

she’s nearly on top of you, her legs on either side of yours with he lips trailing to your jaw, then back to your lips. 

“i want to be your real girlfriend,” she whispers nervously. “i want to kiss you like this, be with you, everything.”

you pause, cupping her face in your hands as you pull back just enough to meet her eyes. she looks at you, eyes lidded and vulnerable. your heart swells.

“i want to be your real girlfriend too,” you confess, using your thumb to stroke her cheekbone. “i think this is the best present i’ll ever get.”

she giggles before closing the distance again—instant, radiant, eager— and you can feel her smiling against your lips. 

“should i put a bow on myself and lay under the tree?” she says when she pulls back, but just enough so your lips ghost each other. “to seal the deal.”

“you’re impossible.” you laugh, digging your fingers deeper into her scalp before pecking her quickly. “we should take this to the car… jake will kill me.”

“i think we can settle for a few more kisses.”

“is there a mistletoe constantly hovering over you?”

“no…” minji mutters, “but maybe we could steal the mistletoe and make it happen.”

you roll your eyes at her, but regardless you close the distance once more. and just when you think she can’t be more of an idiot—she proves you wrong.

“and you still owe me dinner, by the way.”

“whatever,” you mumble in adoration, “it’s a date.”

[arabella0001]

megumi’s confession (megumi x reader)

fluff. suggestive

you and megumi are sort of friends. you don’t have the closest relationship, but you get along well enough. you get along with maki, but she’s not here, you are younger so you needed to stay with your classmates so you managed to click with yuji’s cheerful personality and nobara’s bluntness. but megumi… he complicates things.

you like him. a lot.

and that’s a problem.

he doesn’t look like someone interested in this kind of things, especially you but it’s not like you know anything about him. you barely know if he considers you a friend, let alone if he could ever return how you feel.

so, you hide it. as much as you can.

now, sitting in a café with the group, it’s harder to keep it buried. his foot brushes yours under the table, a fleeting touch that shouldn’t make your heart race—but it does. heat creeps up your neck as you try to focus on yuji rambling about something dumb.

megumi shifts slightly, his gaze cutting toward you. his expression, as usual, gives nothing away, but after a brief silence, he speaks with his usual calm tone, his gaze directly at you, making you jolt slightly.

“something wrong?” his voice is calm, but there’s a slight edge of curiosity.

“no, it’s fine,” you manage to smile, though it feels forced, that’s the last thing you expect right now.

megumi’s sharp eyes linger on you for a moment longer. he notices the silent exchange between you and nobara and he raises a brow slightly, trying to pull apart whatever’s flickering across your face. still, he doesn’t press the issue. he takes a slow sip of his drink before continuing.

“are you sure? you seem distracted.” he says simply, leaning accidentally closer to you and your breath catches in your throat.

“yeah, just… a bad day, i guess.” you insist, though the awkward smile you tack on feels fragile.

his brow lifts—not much, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably.

“i see,” he replies nonchalantly. yuji and nobara exchange subtle glances, suppressing their smile at the clear tension between you two.

as the afternoon wears on, the conversation thins. yuji eventually stretches, loud and dramatic.

“alright, i’m heading out. nobara?” she stands, smirking slightly at you before nodding.

megumi stands too, but his eyes catch yours briefly—just a flicker—before he follows the others outside.

walking behind them, megumi notices how you avert your gaze and the faint flush still lingering on your face. his pace slows just enough that you fall into step with him, trailing a little behind the others.

the silence between you two feels different now, stretching out for what feels like forever for you and your stomach knots. it’s uncomfortable, yet you feel worse just staying quiet.

“so… are you ready for the exams?” you ask, attempting to break the awkwardness.

megumi glances at you, his expression unreadable at your attempt of small talk. “yeah. i’ve been training.” his calm, steady tone is reassuring in some way, though you can feel his eyes lingering on you.

you nod, biting the inside of your cheek and this time, his eyes don’t stray. they settle on you for longer than usual, as if searching for something unspoken. nobara and yuji’s occasional glances aren’t helping either and he can’t stop thinking why everybody seems like they know something, beside him.

he exhales quietly. “you've been quiet today. is something bothering you?” the words hit you harder than you expect. you freeze, barely managing to keep walking.

nobara interrupts, trying to help you and ask something you barely hear, but megumi’s gaze remains locked on you. his sharp eyes flicker with suspicion.

“it’s nothing,” you mumble quickly, looking away.

“that’s not what i asked.” his tone sharpens slightly. “you’ve been weird since the café.”

he tilts his head slightly. “what’s going on?”

nobara glances back at the two of you and smirks knowingly. she tugs yuji forward, whispering something that earns a small laugh from him.

“uh, we’ll go ahead,” yuji announces, shooting you a not-so-subtle thumbs up.

you shoot yuji a glare, silently cursing him for leaving you alone with megumi. nobara flashes you a wink as they walk ahead. now it’s just you and megumi again.

megumi walks quietly beside you, the air thick with unspoken words.

“i didn’t mean to keep anything from you,” you murmur after a long pause. “it’s just… personal.”

his gaze lingers, catching the way you avoid looking at him directly.

“if it’s personal, why do they know about it and i’m the only one who doesn’t?” you stop walking. pressure builds in your chest, each breath heavier than the last.

you stop walking, arms folding over your chest as if it might shield you from how exposed you feel.

“megumi i can’t—” your voice falters. “i’m afraid.”

megumi watches you carefully. for once, his composure cracks just slightly.

“afraid of what? you know you can trust me,” his voice lowers, the softness in it making you feel even more vulnerable.

“megumi… don’t make me say it,” you plead, eyes darting anywhere but at him.

“i don’t wanna force you, y/n” he exhales quietly, confusing all over his face “but if it’s something about me, i’d rather hear it from you.”

you glance at him—just briefly—and mumble, “you’re good at noticing things about other people, but somehow… you didn’t notice this.”

megumi’s eyes narrow slightly. “notice what?”

you hesitate, nerves overwhelming you.

“megumi…i—”

“say it already, damn it. you really making me anxious—”

“i have feelings for you. i have for a while.” you blurt out, not backing back, your heart pounding.

at this, time stops, the confession lingers in the air, louder than it should be. megumi’s eyes widen slightly. his lips part as if to say something, but no words come out.

you swallow hard, your heart threatening to break free from your chest.

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out. “i know i’m a terrible friend for hiding it. i couldn’t help it.”

you start to pull away, but his hand finds your wrist, grounding you in place. his brows knit together, uncertain but steady.

“there’s nothing to apologize for,” he says quietly. “having feelings isn’t something you should apologize for.” your breath catches, tears prick your eyes.

“i think i’m just going to go…” before you can turn, he gently grabs your wrist.

“don’t go.” his voice is soft, almost pleading which is weird coming from him. your eyes meet his, and the concern in his gaze makes your chest tighten.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he whispers. “your….feelings…aren’t exactly one-sided.”

you feel the ground shift beneath you.

“what…?”

megumi sees the shock in your eyes, the hesitation lingering on your face. you clearly didn’t expect this, and neither did he—not like this. relief intertwines with guilt, tightening his chest. maybe he wasn’t blind to it—just unwilling to face it.

“i guess… i’ve picked up on more than i thought.” his voice is quieter now, eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing together his own words. “the way you look at me… how you act around me… i’ve seen it.”

he pauses, gaze dropping briefly to the ground before returning to yours.

“maybe i’ve been ignoring it.”

“megumi…” your voice—soft, almost fragile—pulls at something in his chest. he doesn’t let go, his hands still resting gently on your face, fingers brushing along the edges of your jaw.

“i didn’t mean to overlook it,” he says, his tone calm but honest. “i just… wasn’t sure what to do with it. i’m not great at this stuff.”

“you only realized just now?”

he holds your gaze for a long moment before nodding slightly. “part of me knew.” his voice lowers further. “i just didn’t want to deal with it. i thought… maybe it was better to ignore it than risk messing things up.”

the warmth of his thumbs grazes over your cheek, a rare tenderness behind the gesture.

“but now… i don’t think i can.”

your heart races under the weight of his words, but his expression doesn’t change much. megumi isn’t someone who wears his feelings on his sleeve. still, there’s something in the way he looks at you—a softness that wasn’t there before.

when your arms wrap around him suddenly, pressing your face to his chest, megumi tenses for just a second. then, slowly, his arms encircle you.

his hand drifts to the back of your head, the other at your waist, steady but unintrusive.

“...it’s okay,” he mutters after a while, voice almost too quiet to hear. he isn’t sure what else to say.

he presses a hesitant kiss to your forehead. it’s unfamiliar, but somehow, it feels right. his fingers drift through your hair, slow and grounding.

“can you look at me?”

his tone isn’t demanding, but there’s a subtle firmness behind it. when you pull away enough to meet his gaze, his eyes immediately lock onto yours. there’s a faint flush dusting his cheeks, though his expression remains composed.

your gaze flickers down to his lips, and megumi notices. he always notices. he doesn’t say anything about it, but the slight shift in his breathing gives him away.

“megumi…” the way you say his name, barely above a whisper, draws his attention back to your eyes. his heart skips uncomfortably, the space between you growing smaller without either of you moving.

his gaze lowers again—just briefly. “yeah?”

“please… kiss me.” the words hit harder than you intend. for a split second, he wonders if he heard you right. but he knows he did.

megumi doesn’t answer right away. he studies your face for any hesitation, any flicker of doubt. when he finds none, he exhales softly through his nose, lifting a hand to your cheek once more.

“…okay.” his voice is almost too quiet.

there’s no rush when he leans in, no sudden movement. his lips meet yours carefully, as if testing his limits—testing yours. the kiss is slow, hesitant, but the warmth of his hand against your skin lingers, grounding you in place.

his hand flexes gently at your waist, as if grounding himself in the moment. the sound you make brushes against his skin, subtle but entrancing.

megumi isn’t the type to lose composure, but there’s something about this—something about you—that tugs at the edge of his restraint.

his hand slides just a little lower, fingers curling gently around your side. the kiss deepens by instinct, though there’s nothing rushed about it. it’s careful, deliberate, and unspoken words fill the space between each breath.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours. his eyes remain half-lidded, breaths slow and steady as he tries to process everything.

“…you’re shaking,” he points out quietly, noticing the subtle tremble in your arms. you try to laugh it off, but he doesn’t let go.

“you’re not a bad friend,” he says after a moment, sensing the guilt still lingering beneath the surface. “and… you didn’t mess anything up.” his words are simple, but there’s weight behind them.

the air between you feels heavier now. megumi’s forehead rests lightly against yours, but his grip on your waist lingers, fingertips pressing just enough to keep you close. his eyes flicker down to your lips again, half-lidded, but he doesn’t move—at least, not yet.

you can feel his breath against your mouth, shallow and uneven. he’s usually composed, unreadable even when everything around him is chaotic. but right now… there’s something different. something unsteady in the way he’s holding you, like he’s barely keeping himself together.

“megumi…” your voice is soft, but there’s a tremble to it that you can’t hide.

his gaze lifts to yours, and you can almost see the cracks forming in his calm exterior.

you’re too close, too warm, and the way your lips part slightly when you say his name—it’s messing with his head.

he swallows hard, but his hands move on their own. one shifts to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, while the other slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just a little higher.

“... you’re not helping by looking at me like that,” he murmurs, voice lower than before.

“like what?” you whisper back, though you know exactly what he means.

megumi’s eyes darken, and his thumb lightly brushes over your lower lip, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

“like that.”

his restraint snaps faster than either of you expect. he kisses you again, rougher this time, no hesitation in the way his lips part yours. his grip tightens at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp softly against his mouth.

the sound—god, the sound—sends something sharp through him, and suddenly he’s not thinking anymore.

his hand drifts into your hair, tilting your head gently. his lips move over yours hungrily, like he’s been holding this in for way too long. and maybe he has.

your hands curl into his jacket, pulling him closer, and he groans quietly against your mouth as his teeth catch your lower lip, tugging lightly.

the kiss deepens, heat pooling between the two of you as his tongue slides against yours, the slow, deliberate movements making your knees feel weak.

his arm tightens around your waist when he feels you sway slightly, anchoring you firmly against him.

“you’re… not making this easy,” he mutters between kisses, his forehead dropping against yours briefly as he tries to catch his breath.

you’re barely holding yourself together, but you still manage to smirk faintly, brushing your lips lightly over his again. “you’re the one who kissed me like that.”

megumi exhales sharply through his nose, and before you can say anything else, he’s kissing you again—deeper, rougher, like he’s chasing something he can’t quite reach.

his jacket crinkles under your grip as his body presses flush against yours, pinning you softly against the wall behind you.

your back meets the surface with a quiet thud, and megumi’s hands immediately slide to your hips, guiding them closer until there’s nothing left between you.

his breath hitches when he feels your fingers slide under the edge of his shirt, your touch hot against his skin. his stomach tenses involuntarily at the contact, but he doesn’t stop you.

if anything, it spurs him on.

“you’re… unfair,” he mumbles against your lips, but his mouth trails lower, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw, down to your neck.

the feeling of his lips there—soft but deliberate—sends a shiver down your spine, and megumi feels it.

his lips linger against your skin, breathing heavily as he lets his forehead rest against your shoulder.

for a moment, everything feels suspended in time, neither of you moving except for the rise and fall of your chests.

but even now, his hands haven’t left your hips, thumbs brushing slow circles over the fabric of your shirt.

“...we should probably stop,” he says, though his voice is anything but convincing.

you hum softly, fingers still resting against the bare skin of his waist. “do you want to stop?”

there’s a long pause. “no,” he admits quietly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his eyes are hooded, but there’s a rare vulnerability behind them. “but i’m trying to be smart about this.”

you tilt your head slightly, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face, your touch light but lingering.

“for once, maybe stop overthinking it,” you whisper.

megumi’s gaze lingers on you, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but instead, he leans in, kissing you softly this time. slower, more deliberate. he’s not in a rush anymore.

T

he kiss softens, melting into something slower—something that lingers more than it burns. megumi’s hands remain steady at your waist, his thumbs brushing over your sides like he’s memorizing the feeling of you there. his forehead presses lightly against yours when he finally pulls away, his breath still uneven but calmer now.

neither of you speaks for a moment. the silence feels heavier, but not uncomfortable. it settles between you in a way that feels… right.

megumi’s eyes stay half-lidded as he glances at you, taking in the way your lips are slightly swollen from his kisses, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you try to catch your breath. his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your hips before relaxing again.

“you okay?” he asks, voice quiet, the usual stoic calm returning to his tone—though there’s still a faint rasp to it.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. you?”

his gaze flickers away for a brief second, like he’s processing the question. his hands don’t leave you, and his body stays close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.

“yeah,” he finally answers. “i’m good.”

but his eyes drift back to yours, and the corner of his mouth twitches slightly—barely noticeable, but it’s there.

you lean into him a little, resting your head lightly against his shoulder. he doesn’t move away, instead shifting just enough so that you fit perfectly against him. his chin brushes the top of your head, and you can feel his hand settle against the small of your back, grounding you there. it feels… safe.

after a moment, you murmur against his jacket, voice soft but teasing. “so… does this mean you’re finally done ignoring how you feel about me?”

megumi sighs through his nose, his grip tightening instinctively around you, though there’s no real annoyance in his expression. “i wasn’t ignoring it.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “you kind of were.”

he meets your gaze, and for once, he doesn’t have a response. the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrays him, but he doesn’t look away.

instead, he presses his lips to your forehead—a simple, brief kiss that lingers for just a second longer than necessary.

“i won’t anymore,” he says quietly. your heart skips at the sincerity in his voice.

neither of you addresses what this is—not directly. but the way his arms stay wrapped around you, the way his hand unconsciously brushes along your back in slow, absentminded circles… it’s enough.

“good,” you whisper, smiling softly against him.

you stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth, letting the rest of the world fade away outside the quiet bubble you’ve created. and maybe there’s still a lot left unspoken, but for now, this is enough.

[jburrgf]

About You II — The Love Trope Series

“Do you think I have forgotten about you?”

◦pairing: ¡lsu! joe burrow x ¡ex situashionship! reader

◦summary: second change trope, college relationships, slow burn love, right person wrong time.

◦description: after the dinner at Malone’s, your best friend and you go to the biggest party of the year, and there, you find out why you can’t forget Joe — at all.

◦playlist: About You - The 1975, Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Golding, Like Real People Do - Hoozier, I Bet You Think About Me - Taylor Swift, Called You Again - Lizzy McAlpine, Tolerate It, ImGonnaGetYouBack, Clean - Taylor Swift

PART TWO: FRIENDS

Joe and I didn’t happen overnight.

It was a slow burn, full of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and an undeniable pull neither of us could explain. He was juggling the pressures of being a star quarterback with the weight of expectations I couldn’t fully understand, and I was caught between wanting to be a part of his world and keeping my own identity intact.

We weren’t perfect. We fought. We drifted. We came back together, only to drift apart again. And then, just before graduation, Joe started pulling away for good.

I didn’t chase him.

And that was the end of it.

Or so I thought.

The faint hum of music and muffled voices filtered through the walls of our shared dorm as I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the pile of clothes Maddie had dumped on me earlier. A crop top, a leather skirt, and heeled boots that looked like they belonged on a runway rather than at a party in a dingy warehouse.

Maddie was pacing, a hair curler in one hand and a bottle of glittery body spray in the other, a force of nature in her pre-party ritual. She was dressed to perfection already, wearing a sequined halter top and ripped jeans that made her legs look a mile long.

The mirror in Maddie’s dorm room was barely big enough for one person, but tonight, we were making it work. Her makeup brushes, palettes, and lip glosses were spread across the desk like an arsenal, the tiny lamp casting a warm glow on the chaos.

“Y/N, come on,” Maddie groaned, holding up two options—a cropped black sequin top and a deep green halter. “Which one says, ‘I’m here to have fun but also break hearts’?”

I glanced up, her mind still clouded, offering a weak smile. “The green one, I guess.”

Maddie frowned, dropping the tops onto her bed and placing her hands on her hips. “Okay, what’s going on with you? This is the biggest party of the year, and you’re sitting there like we’re about to go to a funeral.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just tired.”

Truthfully, exhaustion wasn’t the problem. My chest felt heavy in a way I couldn’t explain—like I was carrying the weight of something I didn’t have the courage to admit. Joe. His name felt like a forbidden word, a ghost haunting the edges of my thoughts as Maddie flitted around the room, oblivious.

“Liar,” Maddie shot back, narrowing her eyes as she crossed the room to sit beside Y/N. “You’ve been weird all weekend. Let me guess…” She tilted her head, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

The mention of his name made my stomach flip, but I kept my face carefully neutral. “This has nothing to do with him.”

“Bullshit,” Maddie said, nudging her shoulder. “I know you, Y/N. You’ve been moping around ever since Malone’s friday. Did something happen with Joe that you’re not telling me?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, I know he’s... complicated. But tonight isn’t about him. It’s about you having fun. Forget about the past. It’s just one party.”

“Exactly. Just one party,” I said, grabbing the crop top she’d picked for me and holding it up with skepticism. “And I’m not even sure I want to go.”

Maddie marched over, snatched the shirt from my hands, and tossed it on the bed. “Oh, you’re going. Whether I have to drag you kicking and screaming or not.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to enjoy myself, but something in me felt heavy, like an anchor tied around my chest. Maddie didn’t need to know how often my mind drifted to Joe—how his face had been etched into my thoughts since that night at Malone’s, how his stupid note was still folded in my desk drawer.

“Y/N,” Maddie said, her voice softening as she sat beside me. “I know you miss him.”

I blinked, startled. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, nudging me with her shoulder. “But trust me, wallowing isn’t going to help. You need to let loose, have a drink, and dance with someone who’s *not* Joe Burrow.”

I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It *is* easy,”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my jeans. “It’s… nothing happened. It’s just—ugh, I don’t even know, Maddie. I don’t want to talk about him.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, she stood, grabbed Y/N’s hands, and pulled her to her feet. “Okay, fine. No more Joe talk. But I’m not letting you go to this party looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

“You know i’m not thrilled about frat parties.” I said

“This isn’t just any frat party,” Maddie corrected, grabbing a curling iron and plugging it in. “It’s in the Kappa alumni barn. Do you know how hard it is to get invited to this? People are literally selling wristbands for $50 just to get in. We are *elite,* babe.”

“Lucky me,” I muttered under my breath.

”Come on, I’m going to pick out the perfect dress for you.” She threw open her closet, rifling through the racks of clothes like a woman on a mission. “We need something that says ‘I’m hot, but I don’t care if you notice.’”

“I was just going to wear jeans,” I offered weakly.

Maddie spun around, her expression scandalized. “Jeans? To this party? Y/N, we’re not freshmen anymore. This is senior year. Go big or go home.”

Before I could argue, she pulled out a sleek black dress with a subtle shimmer. It was simple, but the cut was flattering, and the fabric looked soft enough to melt into.

“This,” Maddie declared, holding it up like it was the Holy Grail.

I hesitated, glancing at my reflection. “I don’t know...”

“Trust me,” Maddie said, shoving the dress into my hands. “You’ll look amazing.”

With a reluctant sigh, I headed to the bathroom to change. The dress clung to my figure in all the right places, and when I stepped back into the bedroom, Maddie let out a low whistle.

“Y/N! You look... Wow. Just wow. Girl, if Joe doesn’t come crawling back to you after tonight, he’s an idiot.”

I finally turned to face my reflection, and to my surprise, I didn’t hate it. The dress hugged my figure in all the right places, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe I could blend in tonight.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my llips. “It’s not about Joe.”

“Sure, it’s not,” Maddie teased, returning to the mirror to finish her makeup. “Now, sit down. I’m doing your hair and makeup.”

As Maddie curled my hair, the mood in the room shifted slightly. The music softened, and for a moment, it felt like the old days—just us two, laughing and talking about nothing.

“Listen,” Maddie said, her tone gentler now. “I know you’re going through it, but you deserve to have fun tonight. Forget about him, or at least try to. This party is going to be amazing. Everyone’s been talking about it for weeks. The lights, the DJ, the whole vibe—it’s gonna be insane.”

I nodded, her chest tightening. Maddie was right. I needed to let go, even if just for one night. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Maddie grinned, placing the final curl in my hair and fluffing it out with her fingers. “Now that’s the spirit. Look at us—two bad bitches, ready to take on the world.”

I laughed, feeling a flicker of excitement for the first time that night. Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe I could forget about Joe, even if just for a few hours. Maddie got all the makeup things right in front of us, and started to do my makeup.

Hold still!” Maddie ordered, her hand steady as she worked on my eyeliner.

“I am holding still,” I mumbled, trying not to blink.

“You keep flinching every time I get close. Do you not trust me?” she teased, stepping back to inspect her work. “Did you know they rented an actual DJ for tonight? And there’s going to be this crazy light show. Plus, rumor has it the football team’s throwing in a ton of money for drinks and food. This is basically LSU’s version of Coachella.”

I hummed noncommittally, watching her in the mirror as she worked. Her excitement was contagious, even if I wasn’t quite ready to feel it yet.

“Y/N,” Maddie said after a moment, her tone more serious. “Promise me you’ll try to have fun tonight. For real.”

I met her gaze in the mirror and nodded. “I’ll try.”

She smiled, satisfied. “Good. Now, glitter or no glitter?”

“No glitter,” I said immediately.

Maddie rolled her eyes but relented, finishing my makeup with a swipe of lip gloss.

Maddie, of course, looked flawless in her emerald green romper and heels, her hair styled in loose waves that framed her face. She had a way of commanding attention without even trying, and tonight was no exception.

“You’re stunning,” I said honestly.

“So are you,” she replied, grabbing her phone to snap a picture of us. “Okay, let’s take a pre-party selfie. Smile!”

I forced a grin, but even as the camera clicked, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re thinking too much,” Maddie said, catching my expression.

“I’m not,” I lied.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

By the time we were both ready, the campus was already buzzing with energy. The party was being held in an old warehouse on the edge of campus, the kind of space that was only used for events like this—loud, chaotic, and slightly dangerous.

As we stepped outside, the cool evening air hit my skin, and for the first time all day, I felt a flicker of anticipation. Maddie looped her arm through mine, grinning.

“Trust me, Y/N,” she said as we made our way toward the warehouse. “Tonight’s going to be unforgettable.”

The walk to the party was electric. The campus buzzed with excitement, groups of students streaming toward the barn like moths to a flame. Maddie chatted nonstop, filling the silence with stories and jokes that I barely registered.

But as we approached the barn, the music growing louder with each step, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart began to race. Part of me hoped Joe wouldn’t be there.

And another part of me—a part I hated—hoped he would.

I caved, mostly because Maddie was impossible to argue with, and by the time we arrived at the warehouse, I was already questioning my decision. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the place was packed with bodies moving to a beat I couldn’t place.

It was an underground-style party. Everyone was wearing colorful, fluorescent paints, and the music had heavy beats. It was a fraternity party, but it wasn't at a house. Everything took place in a warehouse, surrounded by a parking lot that was already full when we arrived.

“Loosen up,” Maddie said when we got out of her car and were walking through the parking lot, heading to the party entrance. My friend showed something on her phone to someone, and we went in.

She dragged me toward the makeshift bar. “Come on, Y/N, I know why you're like this. But remember, we have to have fun, right?” she said, shaking my shoulders from side to side as electronic music played.

I rolled my eyes, letting out a small smile because the beat of the music was really contagious.

“Alright, but I’m not going to drink much!”

“I love you!” And that was what Maddie said before dragging me to the fraternity's makeshift bar, preparing something for me to drink.

I downed a few shots, one after the other, laughing and speaking loudly as people came over to greet us. I danced to a few songs with Maddie, swaying from side to side.I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, so I asked her to wait for me close to the bar. I started walking, looking for something like a bathroom, being careful not to open doors to already occupied rooms.

I found an empty bathroom at the beginning of one of the hallways. I fixed my makeup, washed my hands, and got ready to leave. I closed the door behind me, starting to walk down the hallway.

When I returned to the party, the music was louder, and people were dancing more. By that time of the night, the bar was even more crowded than usual, signaling that the party had reached its peak.

I tried to. I really did. But I wasn’t a natural at these things, and it wasn’t until I stepped outside onto the quieter patio that I felt like I could breathe again. I walked out of the warehouse, exiting through makeshift tarp doors. Outside, in the back, there was an Olympic-sized pool, illuminated and filled with inflatable balls.

The air outside was cool against my flushed skin, the sounds of the party muffled behind the thick metal doors of the warehouse-turned-dancefloor. I leaned against the railing near the Olympic-sized pool, my chest rising and falling as I tried to steady myself.

The stillness of the pool was a welcome contrast to the pulsing energy inside. Its surface reflected the night sky, fractured by the faint ripples of the water, and for a brief moment, I felt at peace.

“Finally found you!” Maddie shouted from afar, stepping out of the warehouse with a red cup in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… it just got way too crowded all of a sudden.”

“Yep, it’s about time for us to head out.” She patted my back, as if she knew me well enough to understand exactly how I was feeling.

The bass of the music hit me like a wave as soon as I stepped through the doors, the lights swirling in hypnotic patterns that danced across the crowd. The air was thick with heat and the mingling scents of sweat and cologne, and I almost turned back around.

I tugged at the hem of my dress, suddenly feeling too exposed in the sea of intoxicated strangers. Maddie was nowhere to be seen— I lost her when I got back inside. I should’ve texted her to meet me outside, but I didn't want to ruin her night.

The overhead lights twisted and flickered in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting long shadows that danced across the packed room. People swayed and spun to the beat of a song I didn’t recognize, the energy electric and wild.

And then it happened.

The opening chords of Innerbloom by RÜFÜS DU SOL floated through the speakers, and it was like the entire atmosphere shifted. The crowd slowed, their movements taking on a dreamlike quality as the tempo of the song washed over the room.

That’s when I saw him.

Joe.

He was standing near the edge of the dancefloor, just beyond the reach of the flashing lights. His blond hair caught the faint glow of the strobe, his tall frame relaxed yet commanding as he talked to someone I didn’t recognize. But it wasn’t the way he stood or the casual confidence in his posture that froze me in place. It was his eyes.

Because, as if sensing me, he looked up—and our eyes met.

Everything else faded.

For a second, I thought I was imagining it.

It was instant, like a magnetic pull I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to. The room, the music, the crowd—all of it faded away. All I could focus on was him.

Why does it always feel like this?

The way he looked at me was almost unbearable—like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had dreaded it. His gaze was steady, unflinching, and for a second, I thought he might come toward me.

But he didn’t move. Neither did I.

My breath caught in my throat. We just stared at each other, the space between us suddenly feeling both infinite and too small.

I wanted to run. I wanted to stay.

The flicker of the lights seemed to sync with the thrum of my heartbeat as he started walking toward me. Everything was in slow motion—the sway of his body, the way his hands slid casually into the pockets of his jeans, the way his jaw tightened when our eyes locked again.

The music, the crowd, the swirling lights—it all blurred into the background, like the universe itself had tilted to make room for this one moment.

*If you want me, if you need me... I'm yours.*

The words felt like a taunt, an echo of everything I hadn’t allowed myself to admit.

Joe’s gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, as though he could see every thought racing through my mind. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost curious—but his eyes told a different story. They were searching, pulling me in, and suddenly the space between us felt both infinite and far too small.

I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the ground, my pulse hammering in my ears as the world seemed to slow to a crawl.

He took a step forward.

The lights shifted, casting his face in shadow, and for a second, I thought I might faint. My breath hitched, and I gripped the edge of a nearby table to steady myself.

Another step.

The crowd parted like water around him, the sea of bodies moving in rhythm with the music but leaving him untouched. It felt unreal, like a scene from a movie, the kind you tell yourself could never happen in real life.

But it was happening.

And then he was in front of me.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, almost lost in the swell of the music. But I heard it. God, I felt it.

“Joe.” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost shaky.

Neither of us said anything for a moment. The room seemed to spin around us, the world a blur of light and sound, but we were still. Anchored.

“You came,” he finally said, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“You called.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me in that way he always did, like he could see straight through every wall I’d put up. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to look at me like that? Like he was still holding onto something I’d been trying so hard to let go of.

The muffled beat of the music reached me even out here, but it was quieter now, easier to ignore. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of Joe—his face, his voice, the way he said my name. It lingered like a ghost, refusing to let me be.

“Neither was I,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

Another beat of silence passed, heavy and charged. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a fraction of a second, and my stomach flipped.

The song swelled, the lyrics a haunting echo in the background: If you want me, if you need me, I’m yours

The silence stretched between us, filled only by the song and the pounding of my heart. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. All I could do was look at him, and all he could do was look at me, like we were the only two people in the room.

Something flickered in his eyes—relief, maybe, or something deeper. He stepped closer, and I felt the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the humid air of the warehouse.

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken truths laced beneath them. I wanted to ask him why he cared, why he’d left that note, why he was standing here now, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. But I couldn’t.

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

“I’m glad you did.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unspoken truths laced beneath them. I wanted to ask him why he cared, why he’d left that note, why he was standing here now, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered. But I couldn’t.

The music swelled, the lyrics wrapping around us like a cocoon.

It felt like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of us to make the next move.

And then, without thinking, I took a step closer.

“Joe,” I said again, my voice steadier this time.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely a whisper now, lost beneath the music but somehow still clear as day.

For a moment, neither of us moved, the world narrowing down to just us.

And then someone bumped into me, breaking the spell. I stumbled, and Joe’s hand shot out, steadying me with an ease that made my stomach flip.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. Not even close. Because standing this close to him, feeling his hand on my arm, hearing the way he said my name—it was all too much.

And yet, I didn’t want it to end.

He held out his hand. “I…”

“I can’t do this, Joe. I have to go,” I said, finally creating some distance between us. I walked out of the warehouse, but I knew he was following me.

“CAN YOU STOP?”

He froze, started, coming to an abrupt halt behind me. Even in the dark, I could tell he was looking at me with shock. I could see the way he looked at me, and it made me feel nauseous. Not because I didn’t like it, but because I missed it. God, I missed it so much.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and I could feel the honesty in his voice eating away at me.

“You haven’t talked to me in months, and I’m not going to let you do to me what you’ve done before,” I said, stepping further away. “You forgot about me, Joe. Completely. You pushed me away, and now, I don’t want to come back. Just… stay away.”

Maddie came running after Joe soon after. With a confused expression, she purposely bumped into his shoulder as she walked past him toward me.

“Let’s go, Y/N,” my friend said, still shooting side-eyes at Joe, who stood there frozen. “Leave her alone, Joe. She doesn’t need you anymore.”

Maddie grabbed my hand and started walking with me through the parking lot. I got into the passenger seat, still dazed. It had been almost seven months, and that was the first time he had spoken to me.

When I looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, in the middle of the street.

I knew I would see him again. I just didn’t want to believe it.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a partner that struggles with an ED

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘hi, if you're comfortable, could you write svt with a partner who has eating disorders? im so sorry if you're not comfortable with that, i did read your guidelines post but maybe I've missed it! have a lovely day :) 💜’

TW/CW: This will discuss a sensitive topic. It is meant to be comforting and relatable, but if you’re not in a headspace for it right now, I recommend not reading. 

A/N: I recognize that idols often have issues like this of their own, but for the sake of this post, I won’t be addressing it in this reaction. The pressure to look a certain way is one of the many things I fundamentally disagree with about the idol industry. I’d really rather them carry a little more weight and be happier and healthier. I think most of us would. 

Focuses on the physical recovery - Seungcheol, Hoshi, Mingyu, Chan

The physical impact of the disorder is what makes him put his foot down about it. If you like to maintain a certain body type, he can’t say too much about it and really does want you to be happy with your body. But he can say plenty about the anemia, the low blood pressure, the GI issues, the hormonal issues, the dental problems, etc. You never feel good, and he’s tired of it. He won’t be mean, but he’ll be stubborn and insistent that you seek treatment of some sort, with the first goal to just start feeling better physically. 

Focuses on the behavioral recovery - Joshua, Wonwoo, DK, Seungkwan, Vernon

Encourages you to eat and also encourages you to keep said food down. Those are non-negotiables to him. But he also encourages you not to overdo it on the food and to pace yourself when it comes to exercising. He stresses moderation for those last two things. He’ll figure out what you feel comfortable eating until you’re ready to try a normal diet because a little food is better than nothing. And he’s so calm when that doesn’t go well sometimes, reminding you that it will be okay, but he wants you to be just as brave about it as he is patient. But if it does go well, he’ll give you endless amounts of praise for facing the issue head-on. 

Focuses on the psychological recovery - Jeonghan, Jun, Woozi, Minghao

Feels that it’s best to tackle this sort of thing at the root of the issue. He wants to know when this habit started and why you feel compelled to keep doing it. If it’s poor body image, he’ll listen patiently, but you have to listen to him explain how he sees you, which may be hard to do because his take is so different. If it has something to do with how you were raised regarding food, he’s dissecting that with you, so maybe one day it will click that it’s not the way to live life now. And if it’s about control or perfectionism, he’s encouraging you to start letting go of some of it and trust that it will be okay if you change your behavior or your weight. Exceedingly patient about it without ever making you feel that you’re being irrational when you struggle with this. 

[luimagines]

Ok, now what would the links do if the group was travelling somewhere that's really cold and snowy, and the group is separated in a snow storm? Now imagine reader and the link in question are close, lovers perhaps, perhaps they're just besties, but the point is they're lost, seperated by from the group, and it's cold af-

I personally think being stuck with twilight would be the best scenario here, because Wolfie is a living heater. Problem solved.

And also, wild has all the right gear for any weather so you'd probably be ok with him too.

BUT- what're your thoughts? Who do you think would handle this well and who would let reader freeze on accident?

I hope you don't mind if I do headcanons on this one! It'll just make it easier to answer your questions that way. :D

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Legend

Oh honey, you're in good hands.

You know he's got like 15 different items to help you out.

He's already putting on his gear and throwing stuff at you to keep you both warm

He's complaining the entire time though.

Legend's probably been through a situation like this before and now he's just cursing his luck

He's more annoyed than worried

Because of course this had to happen to him

Of all people

He might... leave you behind by mistake. Or at least begin to do so since he's used to continuing on in poor conditions

Yell at him if his pace begins to speed up and you're struggling to catch up.

He'll slow down when he realizes that you don't exactly have the same experience as he does

He'll let you catch up and go at your speed for a little while

Only to get re-annoyed with the circumstances and begin power-walking through the snow again.

He would probably try going through the night to catch up with the rest of the group so you would need to slow him down

Freezing through the night is not a concern of his.

He's too pissed off to care.

Is probably causing all the snow to melt around him in his rage.

....Maybe don't try to make conversation

Let him stomp it out

Sky

Oh no

Oh dear

Good luck

Now he's from the highlands

Get it?

Because the islands are high- they- they're in the Sky- Nevermind

That being said, he's used to colder temperatures

Not freezing

Hear that?

He's doomed.

Doomed I say!

And so are you if someone doesn't get their act together!!!

You both are better off staying put and huddling for warmth.

It's a good thing Sky gives great hugs.

Just wait for the others to come find you and regroup.

Not that Sky is going to want to stay put and wait on someone else.

He's still a Link after all

But good golly you better find a way to keep him put

Sit on him if you have to

Solves both problems

Four

He's going to freeze as well.

He may have an item or two that can help him.

But he's small, ok?

He doesn't have a lot of body heat to go around.

And he's not going to risk it and go out into a storm with ill-equipped gear and a lack of direction

No sir, he won't.

You are both going to sit down and wait.

He tries to avoid it early on, but after a few hours, fire or no fire, he will eventually latch onto you like a koala

I don't make the rules.

Snuggle time!

Please don't let him fall asleep.

That being said, I think that with the two of you missing, the group find you in record time.

You don't have to wait long in the snow storm until rescue comes.

So no need to panic

You both are going to be a-ok. :)

Time

He is on high alert the second you've been separated from the group.

Time makes sure that you are as close to him as physically possible.

He also makes sure to put away his armor. That amount of metal would have him frozen faster than a poe with an ice rod.

He (most likely) will have his equipment to deal with the cold, but his main concern will be on you the entire time.

Not that Time has a lot of ways to deal with the cold to begin with.

I'd imagine that he burns brighter than more so the cold won't bother him as much.

But being out in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard is not very conducive for a survivable experience.

Instantly tries to find a cave instead.

Does not hesitate to use Din's Power to warm the air and keep a fire going.

He somehow also keeps you from burning when he uses said power.

Don't ask me how. I'm using Suspension of Belief.

Once the fire has started, he'll sit you down and drag you close.

Cuddles for warmth. Obviously. Unless? o.o

Kidding.

Mostly.

Time goes full provider mode.

You cannot convince me that the dude who essentially played hero for his entire life will be able to turn that off on a whim

He's a caretaker and he's going to keep you both alive no. matter. what.

The others are going to have to wait. You come first.

Twilight

Oh, he's fine.

He's borderline built for this weather, you kidding?

However, he knows that you both have to reconvene with the group at some point.

So out comes Wolfie.

He can track like the best of them but may forget that you can't travel through it as well as he can.

He makes sure to keep you close.

You may have to have a hand on him at all times as he both try to make your way through the weather.

When you get too cold to move on though, Twilight transforms back into his hylian form and gives you his best gear.

He takes of the wolf pelt and wraps you in it.

Then he takes out all the other clothes that he has and puts them on himself.

They're lighter than his best gear but he's going to put as many layers as he can tolerate

Then he picks you up and carries you until he finds a safe place where you can spend the night.

He (like many in his family) is a man of action and is going to make sure you have nothing to worry about.

Twilight is going to forget that you're a team in his effort to keep everything under control

He means well so don't take it to heart

It's how he manages his stress

Your options are let him do what he wants and go along with it or try to (kindly) remind him that you can do just as much as he can

Results may vary for option number two.

Warrior

Fire rod?

Fire rod.

No need to worry he's going to have some fun.

You might have to worry about having your eyebrows singed off instead.

But let's just say the cold is not going to be a problem for the foreseeable future.

What's more worrying is trying to find your way back to the group.

That is going to be a problem and a half.

Kinda.

I'm tempted to say that Warrior shoots multiple fire columns into the sky to act like giant magical flares.

....Hopefully nothing else catches on fire.

You have to admit though, it looks awesome.

Your best bet would be that the others find you first before you find them because Warrior is not the best tracker known to man.

Wolfie is going to be your best friend.

Warrior cries when he sees Woflie.

He blames it on the wind chill on his eyes.

Wolfie knows better. XD

Wind

Help this poor child.

He's from an island.

A tropical island.

Not to mention he's just a kid!

Sure he's brave and smart and resourceful but to be trapped in a snowstorm?

He's not going to know what to do.

You better have a better inkling of how to handle yourselves.

Or you better place your bets in the group trying to find you first.

But he's not going to be of much help.

Would most likely be a liability in a situation like this.

I'm not saying that to be mean. I know he'd want to do his best to help and to pull his own weight and probably do most of the work since he's "The Hero".

But it's that same attitude that is going to put him in the way most of the time.

Not to mention that (to my knowledge) he doesn't have the gear to help out in the snow.

You're going to have to sit him down and give him a talkin' to because he's going to understand the problem you've both found yourselves in very easily.

Wolfie better be on his way and be there fast.

Wild

He's having the time of his life.

Between his gear to keep out the cold, his lack of self-preservation, and the fact that he can set anything on fire whenever he feels like- y'all are golden.

One of those people that'll accidentally take off without in their excitement, so please hang onto him so you're not left behind. ^.^*

Wild is also the one carrying all the food so you don't have to worry much on that front either.

Even if he didn't, he's also a hunter and is more than willing to hunt down dinner and cook it for you. :D

And that's still not even talking about his potions, his sheikah slate that can connect to Wind's Pirate Stone, and his ability to get lost figure out where he's going.

Aside from the boys already mentioned, if there was ever a need to draw the short stick and get stuck somewhere like this be aware that it could be very... very worse.

(Sorry Wild)

Granted, it'll probably take longer to find others.

Or for them to find you.

Let's be real, you're not going to be staying in one spot.

So! You're going to be set traveling with Wild!

That boy has everything covered! There's nothing for you to worry about!

Save for maybe him running off to explore without you.

And of course... because of that... prolonging the ability to return to the group...

Take pictures. At least have fun with it!

Hyrule

Ok- Mr. Streets Smarts would be an amazing bet to rely on.

He may not be the best tracker, but he knows his stuff.

Hyrule has an amazing sense of direction.

He may have a bad habit of wandering off.

But all those who wander are not always lost, you know what I'm saying?

You may be separated from the group but that doesn't mean that there's no way to find shelter of a nice place to camp.

Hyrule can sniff out this stuff (not literally)

It may not lead you both back to the group, but there's no reason to fear when Hyrule is here!

That being said, he's skin and bones.

This kid needs more layers.

Whether you headcanon him being part fairy or not, I can't imagine the magic he has also equating to him higher blood pressure or a high body tempt to fight off the fact that his boy is gonna be trapped in a snow storm/very snowy area

It may be up to you to make sure he doesn't get hypothermia and freeze to death.

He can lead you out of a mess like that no problem

...It doesn't mean he can lead you back to the group, but something is better than nothing

But I can't imagine him being able to retain his heat very well.

It's going to be the roll of the dice with one y'all.

[httpvomitello]

Cold Heart *⁠.⁠✧ (part 2)

cregan stark x targ!reader

WARNING: angst, not a happy ending (?)

(part 1)

The days following your outburst in the Great Hall passed in a haze. You avoided Cregan as much as possible, and he seemed content to let the silence stretch between you. The icy walls of Winterfell felt more like a prison than ever before.

Rickon, sensing the tension but not understanding its source, clung to you with a desperation that only deepened your heartbreak. He asked you once, in his small, hesitant voice, if you were angry with his father.

“No, sweetling,” you whispered, stroking his dark hair. “I’m just… tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you—not from the duties of being Lady of Winterfell, but from the constant ache of loving a man who would never love you back.

One evening, unable to bear the silence any longer, you sat at your writing desk and penned a letter to your mother.

Mother,

I have done all that was asked of me. I have been patient. I have been kind. But I cannot thaw the North, and I cannot make a man love me who does not wish to. My heart feels as if it has been crushed beneath the weight of a thousand winters. I wonder if this alliance was worth the cost.

You stared at the words for a long time, your quill hovering above the parchment.

Do you even know what you have done to me?

Your hand trembled as you added the final line. You folded the letter carefully, but you could not bring yourself to summon the raven. What good would it do? Rhaenyra would only remind you of your duty, of the importance of the alliance, of the greater good.

The letter remained tucked away in the desk, a secret burden you carried alone.

The tension between you and Cregan finally came to a head late one night. The storm outside was fierce, the winds howling like wolves at the gates. You had been restless, pacing your chambers, when the door opened, and Cregan stepped inside.

He looked as tired as you felt, his shoulders heavy with some unseen weight. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, regarding you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“What do you want, Cregan?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

“I came to speak,” he said, his tone measured.

“You’ve had months to speak,” you replied, turning away from him. “And yet you’ve said nothing.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You never know what to say. You never know how to feel. You don’t even know how to look at me without seeing her shadow.”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Do not speak of things you don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t I?” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “I understand better than you think. I understand what it means to love someone so deeply it consumes you. But you—” Your voice broke, and you forced yourself to continue. “You’ve never given me the chance to show you what we could be. You won’t even try.”

Cregan took a step forward, his expression stormy. “And what would you have me do? Forget her? Pretend she never existed?”

“I would have you see me!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I am not her, Cregan, and I never will be. But I am here. I have been here, trying, every single day, and you—”

Your voice faltered as he closed the distance between you. For a moment, you thought he might reach for you, might finally break through the walls he had built.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t give you what you want.”

The finality in his words shattered something inside you. You stepped back, your breath hitching as you tried to compose yourself.

“Then why did you marry me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because I had to,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a raw honesty that hurt more than any lie could have. “Because the North needed it. Because Rickon needed it. But I never wanted this, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking all over again. “But you have,” you said quietly. “You’ve hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in the silence of your chambers.

The days that followed were colder than ever, though the snow had stopped falling. You threw yourself into your duties, avoiding Cregan whenever possible. Rickon became your solace, his innocent laughter the only thing that kept you from succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume you.

But even he could not erase the emptiness in your heart.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you found yourself standing before the godswood. The heart tree loomed above you, its ancient branches creaking in the wind. You knelt before it, tears streaming down your face as you whispered a prayer to gods you didn’t fully believe in.

“Give me the strength to bear this,” you pleaded. “Or give me the freedom to leave.”

The gods, as always, were silent.

[bellesmadeofsilk]

What to wear M.M x FEM! reader

Overture- Matt's worried about meeting your parents

CWs- Mentions of bruises, not being perceived as good enough, one joke about stripping and not a whole lot else

A/N- oops it's kind of late but Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, and happy chanukah if you celebrate that. And have a nice Wednesday otherwise. Also the divider is courtesy of @anitalenia

You’d never seen Matt this worried before. You’d seen him have nerves before court, or even genuine fear over some of the things happening in his city– but they were always overpowered by his endless resolve. You’d listen to him talk through his problems, through opening statements, and lines of questioning– and at the end of the day he’d feel a lot better. But tonight he was spiraling a little bit and no amount of nervous pacing was helping him. 

He had three near-identical suits laying on his bed, and was pacing from the bedroom to his living room where you sat on the couch. It started with him trying to decide on his clothes for tomorrow and had become– this. 

“What if they don’t like me?” You really tried not to laugh at him— like your parents wouldn’t like the nice guy with perfect manners and a stable career. 

“Matt, they’ll love you– it’ll be a great day tomorrow. I’m cooking, you’re going to be so wonderfully charming, and my parents have never even been to New York before– you’ve got the home field advantage.”

“What if they see one of my bruises– or my scars? I don’t want them to think I’m violent.” Currently his bruises were confined to his upper arm, chest, and back— no one would see them.

“Well then I guess you can’t strip at dinner.” It wasn’t especially often that you could tease Matt, but he was being more than a little ridiculous– no one would guess that your blind boyfriend got a bruise because he was fighting someone on a random rooftop at one in the morning. You laugh a little bit as you put your hands on his shoulders, stopping his pacing. He allowed you to give him a peck on the lips, even though he was still antsy. When you pulled away, he put his hand over yours, still on his shoulder. 

“I’m serious. They’re going to think I’m not good enough for you.” 

“Oh Matt– they’d never say that.”

“But it’s true. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Matt– I think you are wonderful, smart, and sweet, and my parents are going to think you’re great– I’m sure of it.” He could hear your heartbeat. He knew you were telling the truth. But you could think that they’d like him all you want, it wouldn’t change the fact that they might not. And much to your dismay he could only sigh in response, looking down at you. 

“Matt, I'm serious. At the very least, they’ll think you’re a polite young man with a stable job and a nice suit.” That got a laugh out of him— it was self conscious, but an improvement over the frown he had before. 

“Well that’s good at least. Something in my favor.” 

“And Matt? Just for the record it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they like you. I love you, and they love me, and nothing is going to change that.” You’d never said that to him before. Not out loud at least— you’d thought it, and when you knew he was far enough that even he couldn’t hear you, you’d practiced saying it. But he’d never heard you say it before. 

“You love me?”

“Obviously— I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re pretty fantastic.”

“And you’re sweet. And I love you too.” He kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug, your face buried in his chest. 

“So you’ll be ok tomorrow?” He just gave a contented sigh and pulled you even tighter to him, inadvertently squishing your face. 

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be fine I think.” You squirmed away from his hold just enough to press a light kiss to his jaw, then to his lips. You could physically feel him smile, and then feel that smile fade a little bit when he started talking again. 

“But seriously, which suit do you think?”

[trashideas]

Exploration of Jin-woo’s loss of emotions.

The only emotion he doesn't lose is the love for his family?

Or is that a lie?

Is he hyperfocusing on keeping his family safe to say that he still feels love?

In which, Jin-woo loses all emotions, but he still cares. Or at least, he wants to.

When he comes home late at night, he doesn't expect Jin-ah’s worried figure pacing the halls. He doesn't expect when she comes up to punch his shoulder, only to reel back with a, “Ugh, you stupid Hunters!”

“Did I do something wrong?” his head tilts as he takes in the view of their cleaned apartment. Nothing was amiss.

She looks at him, stunned. “Its 4 in the morning. You left two days ago.”

The fridge was stocked before he left. Nothing was set to expire, he double checked. He told her he would be leaving for a while. None of his soldiers indicated that something happened.

So what was the problem?

“You really don't understand, do you? Or are you just fucking with me?”

“Don’t swear…” he finds himself saying. Mother wouldn't want her to swear. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Today?” she scoffs, “Yes. I do have school. And you need to start texting me more.”

He texts her often. More often than anyone else. “I’m a bit confused. Why are you so upset with me?”

Jin-ah gives him a strange look. Her eyes are glistening with tears. Was she about to cry? What did do?

“You can't just… leave like that for so long. Especially with no contact. I thought- I thought,” she takes in a stuttering breath, refusing to let tears fall, “I didn't know if you were coming back. I didn’t know if you up and died somewhere or if you… left.”

Oh. So like father. “Jin-ah, I would never do that. I just got sidetracked was all.”

“That’s it? That’s your apology?”

What was there to apologize for? Ugh. This is why he prefers fighting. At least then-

At least then he wouldn't have to deal with emotions. The thing he is currently not feeling.

Oh.

Oh he hadn't expected the system to affect him so deeply. It was supposed to just be a way to get stronger. A way to protect himself. A way to get money for food, rent, and Jin-ah’s college.

It wasn't supposed to change him.

“Jin-ah,” he starts.

“No,” she interrupts him, “I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” she trods off into her room.

“…Goodnight,” he says after her door has been slammed shut.

She never slammed doors.

And he never did this.

He cringed. He would text her more often. But about what?

He retreats into his room. The only thing that could beat him was his own sister, after all. The house feels colder somehow. Maybe she forgot to turn the heat on? For some reason, he doesn’t think that's quite right.

He shuts his door gingerly. His phone feels heavy in his pocket.

[Jin-woo: I’m sorry.]

[mentime]

✿ cum undone ✿

title: cum undone

summary: when Billy Butcher isn't coming up with new reasons to hate Supes, he works as a phone sex operator.

w.c: 2.5k

warnings: phone sex, cursing, fingering, slight hint at pain play but only very very slightly, solo masturbation, nothing graphic at all tbh

note: hi first work!! hope everyone is doing well, sorry if there's any typos, kind of rushed it but hope you enjoy thanks for reading <3

What in the actual fuck were you doing?

Your thoughts begin spiralling, and you grasped at your bedsheets to try and ground yourself, but despite your efforts, your breaths were becoming faster and shallower.

And you still couldn't bring yourself to hang up the phone.

See, you had found yourself in a bit of a predicament. It had been building up all week, you've been feeling hot and bothered over small things, it was getting to be too much for you. Which is what lead you to now, watching helplessly with bated breath as your phone dialed the number for a phone sex hotline that you had discovered on the internet in your haste to solve your... problem.

The phone rings once...

This was a bad idea.

Then twice...

This was a really, really bad idea.

Then three times...

This is getting pathetic now, you should really just hang up-

"Hello, love, Butcher here, ready to satisfy every desire you could possibly come up with in that pretty little head of yours", a gruff, gravelly British accent answers on the other side of the phone, reciting what seems to be the company's slogan. You could feel blood flowing to your cheeks and an abundance of heat pooling in your abdomen at the sound of the man's voice alone. "Are ya in need of some…service?"

You scramble to get closer to the phone, flushed and out of breath already. You try to think of something clever to say, something that doesn't give you away as just a total inexperienced loser, but you don't come up with anything special.

"Hi", you manage to will your voice to speak at a somewhat normal volume and pace. "Um, yes please?"

The man, Butcher, on the other side of the phone chuckles at the questioning lilt of your tone, and you feel yourself flush even deeper, although you didn't know that could be possible. When he speaks next, you can hear the smug grin in his voice.

"And what sort of service do ya have in mind, love?", the man continues, and his voice lowers, even deeper, as he speaks again. "I’d be more than happy to accommodate ya."

Your mind comes to a complete halt, both at how fucking attractive this man sounds, and because you actually have no clue what you want from this phone call. Of course, you know the end goal, you're not that oblivious, but you hadn't really thought of how exactly to get... there.

"Oh, um, I don't know", you whisper, shyly. "I've never really done this before..."

"That’s completely fine, darlin’, s'what I'm here for, ain't it?", and even though his words are kind, you could swear you can hear a smirk in his voice. Maybe you're just paranoid. "We’ll take it nice and slow. Why dontcha tell me what you’ve been thinkin’ about?"

You hear some shuffling around and a grunt on the other side of the line, presumably the man getting more comfortable, and even that noise evokes something within you.

"Well,", you start nervously, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Um, it's just that lately, I've been getting kind of... riled up over small things, and I haven't been able to really, uh, fix this problem."

You internally cringe at that absolute word vomit that you had just spewed, and you grip at your sheets and screw your eyes shut, nearly hanging up until you hear the man chuckling softly.

"So, what you're tellin' me is that ya need some help masturbating", and you're definitely sure you can hear the smirk in his voice now. "Do I have it right, lovie?"

You nod, unable to command yourself to speak, until you cop onto the fact that Butcher can't actually see you. You manage a quiet little "yes".

"Well, of course I'll help ya, love", Butcher says softly, and you nearly melt as your fingers loosen their death grip on the sheets. "It's me bloody job and I'm fuckin' amazing at it, so we'll have your little problem sorted and you'll be right as rain."

If you weren't so nervous, you'd be full on beaming, and you can feel yourself nodding along to the man's words.

"And 'cause I'm so damn good at what I do, I can already tell you're not much of a talker", and thank god for sexy, intelligent men. "That ain't no big deal to me, love. I'll just tell ya what to do, and your only job is to enjoy yourself and let me know if ya want to stop at anytime."

You nod, and you chide yourself for being so silly, but it doesn't matter because it's almost as if Butcher could sense it through the phone, and he proceeds anyway.

"First, I want ya to get comfy. Do whatever you gotta do, darlin', I'm in no rush."

You hurry to lie back, limbs splayed out over your plush duvet. You try your best to calm yourself down with a few deep breaths, but you struggle to keep your excitement at bay.

"Now, just listen to the sound of me voice", his gravely voice softens, and you focus all of your attention solely on him. "Let me guide ya. I want ya to start by slowly and gently brushing your skin with your nails."

You do just that. You rake your nails softly on the exposed parts of your body, enjoying how it stimulates you and makes your skin tingle.

His voice gets low and soft as he continues.

"Follow the lines of your body, love. Across your stomach, down your sides, wherever it feels nice. If it helps ya, picture me touchin’ you, my hands moving across your skin."

Oh god, why did he have to go and do that. You can just imagine it now, with your eyes shut, breaths deepening as your hands roam your body, an impeccably handsome man, big hands exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a burning trail in their path.

"Good girl, you’re doing very well", his voice still low and seductive. "I want ya to keep moving your hands. Slide them up, higher, towards your tits."

Your face burns at his language, but you comply regardless, shivering at the sensitive touch.

"Imagine it’s my hands that are on your skin, touchin' ya", his voice is as soft as velvet, and even though you can hear the teasing smirk in his tone, you can't bring yourself to care as you get lost in your fantasies of a faceless British man caressing you with all of the care in the world. "My hands moving just as yours are. Do ya like it, lovie?"

You manage to utter a breathless "yes" as you continue your ministrations. You can hear the grin as he continues speaking.

"I’m glad, love. Now, I want ya to close your hands as you reach your chest, let your nails dig into your skin. Not hard enough to hurt, just…enough to feel good, yeah?

You startle a bit at that, but you do as you're told anyway, and find that it actually feels kind of nice, in contrast with the barely there touches from earlier.

"You’re doin' really good. Relax into the feeling f'me, love", Butcher's voice dips into a whisper, and you can hear some movement on the other side of the line as he readjusts himself, but you pay no mind. "Slide your hands higher, higher, until ya reach your neck. Wrap your hand around your throat, darlin'. Not too hard now, don't want ya dyin' on my watch."

"Feels good", you surprise yourself when you huff out a response that wasn't even required, and you curl in on yourself in embarrassment.

He gives another soft laugh as your words. He’s enjoying this.

"Really good, lovie, well done", he cooes slightly, and you can still hear his smile. "'Want ya to imagine I’m in the room with ya, my fingers exploring whatever part of your body I want to."

And oh god, how you want that. One hand leaves your throat to wander down further south, and your body quivers in anticipation.

"Move your hands from your neck now, love", he goes on, almost as if he had sensed that you wanted to speed things up a little bit. "Move them down. Slowly. Across your chest. Down your sides again. Down to your hips. Keep 'em there."

Your fingers venture down further, slowly, and as the heat spreads across your whole body, you can feel a certain wetness building up in your panties too.

"Imagine me lips against your skin. Against your neck, your shoulders, your tits", Butcher continues, his voice still below a whisper, soft and sensual, and it's amazing how just a man's voice could make your body react so much. "Me hands running across your body, down your hips. Across the insides of your thighs, would ya like that lovie?"

You nod and bite down on your lip to refrain from letting out any embarrassing noises.

"Slide your hands lower, darlin’", he pauses for a second, and you can hear his heavy breathing and some rustling on his end. "Run 'em over your thighs, your legs."

"Does it make ya feel good, love?", his words slur together almost, and it turns into a smooth purr, his smirk still audible. "Imagining me there, me hands on your skin, me lips against your neck. Pressin' against ya, and makin' ya shudder. Makin' ya squirm beneath me. You'd probably make the cutest noises too if ya weren't so damn shy."

He lets his words hang in the air for a second, and your brain is still trying to comprehend everything that he'd just said to you. His voice goes even lower when he speaks again, continuing his gentle guidance.

"Slide your hand between your legs, darlin'. Use your other hand to touch the inside of your thigh. Move it up, slowly. Imagine it’s my touch that you’re feelin'. My hands that are makin' ya feel so good."

You reach your fingers slowly down towards the heat, and press against the wet patches on your panties. They're nearly soaked, and otherwise you'd be embarrassed by how undone you've become by just the voice of a stranger, but you can't find it in yourself as you plunge your hand into your panties.

Your fingers circle your lips, and you let your other hand trail into the wetness, rubbing gently as you focus your attention on Butcher's voice.

"Imagine my lips against your skin, tracing a line down your stomach. Where do ya want 'em t'go, lovie?", he makes a soft sound, a mixture between a moan and a grunt, as he continues to speak. He lets out a low laugh. "I'm only fuckin' with ya, I know exactly where you want them to go."

You hear his smirk widening, and you flush even more as you trace little circles around your clit as he speaks.

"Mmm, yes, love, right between your legs, I know. I'd love for ya t'know the things I’m thinking about you, the things I’d be doing to ya if I was in the room with ya right now."

You can't contain the whimper of want you emit when he says that last bit, and you're so stimulated, what with your fingers teasing your clit and his seductive voice on the phone that you can't even muster up any shame.

He chuckles, his voice almost as thick as honey as he speaks.

"Oh, ya like the sound of that, love? Imagining me in your room, on top of ya. Do you want to know what I’m thinkin' about ya right now, darlin’?"

"Mmhm", you just about manage to make out, because even though you were dead set on not uttering a single word unless you absolutely had to to prevent yourself from making a fool of yourself, you just have to know what he's on about.

Your hand works faster and faster, and you slip a finger into the warmth, pumping faster and faster as he speaks.

"I’m imaginin' ya lying on your back, darlin’. I’m on top of ya, me arms pressed against the bed, my body against yours", He lowers his voice to almost a whisper, the smirk on his face audible in his words.

"Imagine I’m on my knees, love, right in front of you, between your legs, me face in front of your hips", your breath stutters as your hand continues to work, maintaining speed and you can feel yourself nearing climax. "Ya want to know some of the things I’m thinkin', darlin’?"

You whimper again, and Butcher takes that as an affirmative.

He laughs again, moving the receiver away as he lets out a chuckle before returning to the low, soft voice. He’s getting much more into this now, his own excitement starting to show in his words. The words are so low that they almost melt together like the sofy purr of an engine.

"I want to taste ya, love. The image of your body, of being so close to ya, it’s driving me bloody mental", he grins, you can hear it in the way he speaks. "I’m thinkin' about how good you’d taste, lovie, how bad I want to taste ya all over. How badly I want to run my tongue over your body, how much I want to make ya moan."

The heat becomes unbearable as you continue to rub your clit in erratic circular motions, and finger yourself.

Nearly there.

"Christ, the things I'd do to ya if I was there", a low laugh escapes his mouth, "you know what my hand is doing right now, love?"

So close, so close.

"And y'know what? If I had ya, pliant and obedient underneath me, I'd lick a fat stripe up your cunt and eat you out like a starving man"

Oh my fucking god.

You let out a moan as you climax, and you hear Butcher grunt in unison. Your vision is a mixture of hot white and blurriness. Your chest heaves as you pant, trying to catch your breath, and your fingers cramp up as you pull them away from the warm, sticky mess that once were your panties.

You hear Butcher moving on the other side of the phone.

"Well, thanks for the wank, lovie, pleasure doin' business with you", Butcher's voice is low, a bit more hoarse now than when the phone call had started, but the smug undertone is still there. "Don't worry 'bout payin', it's on the house since it was so enjoyable for me too."

Your cheeks heat up again as you hear his deep voice chuckle. You can't help but feel a twinge of bittersweetness now that the moment is over, but it's overcome by relief and a warm tiredness that makes your eyelids heavy.

"I hope your little problem is fixed now, darlin'. Call back again sometime, and ask for Butcher."

He hangs up, and you're stuck in your bed wondering how many times is deemed acceptable to ring a phone sex hotline in a week.

[f4ggydog]

I need more big dick Lottie thoughts 🤤Ovulation week is kicking my butt and I need to be put down by a big brown eyes girl with a big dick

I GOT YOU ANONNNNN

lottie’s hard on has been bugging her all day. her eyes flicker over to you reading on the couch in her mansion. in some way, she admires how dedicated you are to finishing this book. but on another hand, she’d prefer you getting fucked bareback or sitting on her lap, bouncing on lottie’s thick cock. lottie tries to temporarily relieve her hard-on by cupping her bulge through her jeans, gently massaging it and lightly groaning.

you place your book down after some time and focus your attention on lottie, who got caught fondling herself through her clothes when she thought you were too distracted. god, she couldn’t go one moment without thinking about dicking you down. it was a routine for her. lottie getting her way with you was like her food and water that she couldn’t go without.

“lottie…”

“i know what you’re gonna say,” lottie sighs. “i-it’s not my fault if you’re so attractive. fuck, i’m sorry. i just…i want you so bad.”

“you’re not sorry, lottie.” you crawl over to her, placing your hand on her knee and caressing it.

“yeah maybe the fuck i’m not.”

before you can even react in time, lottie’s immediately got you pinned down with one of your hands holding yours together. her other hand is working on the button to your pants, eager to strip you down to your most bare form.

“so fucking pretty,” lottie groans, pushing your pants down and admiring the wet spot in your underwear. “do you know what you fucking do to me? do you have any idea what you make me feel? do you even realize?”

sure, you realized a little bit. but other times, you just assumed lottie was an obsessive horndog. even so, you weren’t against her being so lustful towards your every little movement or feature on your face or body. it was beyond flattering.

“is this for me?” lottie asks, kissing your wet spot and slowly slipping your panties off. “hm, baby? did i excite you even while reading your dumb book?”

“hard not to notice when you’re such a perv lottie,” you chuckle.

“oh, I’ll show you what a perv looks like baby.”

lottie takes a second to admire your glistening pussy, shining with your wetness, while she undresses. soon, lottie’s down to nothing besides her t shirt and her cock springs free from its confinements.

she presses her cock head to the damp folds of your pussy, sliding the tip up and down as a tease. you whine in response, desperate for her to just slide inside and knock you up. but lottie likes the fun of having you wait, having you beg for her huge cock.

“p-please lottie,” you whimper. “please, please. need it so bad. need you so bad.”

“how badly?”

“really bad. so bad. please just fuck me already. just make me feel good. i need you baby. need you more than anything.”

“god, you’re so fucking sexy when you beg. jesus fucking christ.”

lottie grunts, unable to contain herself any longer. she slides almost her entire length into your quivering hole, instantly setting a fast pace as her cock thrusts in and out of that wet goodness. her hands grip onto your hips, holding you down firmly as you moan from the sensations.

your hips softly buck in time to meet her thrusts, but lottie holds you down harder. she’s not interested in having you put in extra work. she just wants to dominate, wants to be the one in control. she doesn’t need you to put in any unnecessary effort. just lay back and take it.

“l-lottie i…”

“don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, baby. i’ve only just started using my cock. you cum when i say so.”

“lottie,” you groan. “please just go harder. please, i just need to feel you.”

even though she promises not to have you cum so early, she’s got no problem increasing her pace. her cock slaps harshly against the inside of your pussy, her balls hitting your ass with great fervency. lottie needs you to forget all about your book. she wants to continue having you writhe and squirm under her, completely wrapped up in pleasure and heavenly feelings. lottie starts rubbing your clit as well, challenging you to be brought closer to the edge without cumming. but you’re not sure how much longer you can hold back without exploding on her cock. after all, the way lottie’s deep brown eyes look into yours that roll back and shut with ecstasy makes you want to let go right on the spot. oh you weren’t gonna be let off easy, were you?

[justarandomhelluvablog]

Major spoilers below cut but-

also idk how other people feel about this but as much as I enjoy the animation and songs and story (and vindication on being right about both Vaggie and Husk) the pacing in this show's a fucking nightmare.

6 episodes in and we have confirmed that Husk used to be an Overlord (something a lot of us predicted bc he was a sillhouette in the Overlord lineup) and that Vaggie is/was an angel (also predicted bc of her weapon of choice and general appearance). The extermination has been revealed to Heaven (seriously why tf did they think it was a good idea to hold court with angels who didn't know?? Charlie could have mentioned the extermination at ANY time), that Lucifer is an overall dorky anxious mess of a father who thinks the hotel will fail bc he's already tried to reason with Heaven, that Heaven doesn't even know HOW to get into Heaven, and an angel has been killed (AND we know who did it)? This is infodump. The season should be longer than 8 episodes, and some of this information should have been teased throughout season one and not revealed until season 2.

Loving the Huskerdust content, don't get me wrong, and hoping we see Alastor perhaps actually becoming fond of the Hotel crew (at this point I'm sure he's there for an ulterior motive beyond "entertainment" and I enjoyed his and Lucifer's little competition for Charlie's father-affection so crossing my fingers on the Hotel becoming their own little family with Alastor (and Lucifer, too) as the overprotective father(s) lmao), and I am dying to see Husk get even a fraction of his Overlord power back and help kick Valentino's ass (ultimately I don't think Husk will be the one to overthrow Valentino but y'know I want to see him get a W) but. The timing. And two songs in multiple episodes is too much- if over half of the runtime of your episode is song, it's too much.

Anyway the point I'm trying to make is that the timing is too fast, and if Helluva Boss was fast then Hazbin is a speedrun. If this was Helluva type writing, the Vaggie thing would not have been revealed until season 2, and Husk would probably have been hinted to have been an Overlord once upon a time IN STORY, not just in promotional work, up until it's revealed. And Angel would have actually had a reaction, unless it is well known already, which considering people's reactions to him I don't think it is.

I still enjoy the show, don't get me wrong, but anyway those are just my complaints. They need to slow it down, we're getting too many secrets all at once.

..... Anyway I want to see Husk wipe the floor. Alastor kept him alive for a reason, and I doubt when he first won Husk's souls (and all the souls Husk owned, I assume) he would have given a single damn about a drunk gambling cat demon, so... I wanna know their deal.

At least with how fast this show moves I won't have to wait long to find out, huh?

[wolvesandvisions]

to anyone who draws and experiences wrist pain like I do i. I figured out the blindspot to solving the pain. maybe this is obvious but whatever. im honestly I'm frustrated at myself for not knowing sooner bcs I was an athlete for so long. but what always confused and frustrated me was that no matter how much i stretched the pain wasnt going away

people always linked n shared resources to stretches and it'd give me temporary relief but not deal with the issue especially not any longer than the time it took me to stretch.

u do have to stretch. but u ALSO HAVE TO WORK OUT YOUR ARMS.

the reason we are hurting so much is because that muscle is doing a lot of repetitive and strenuous motion but the whole length of your arms and wrists aren't strong enough to withstand that much work.

u cant just stretch. buy a set of light-ish weights and just pick a set of wrist and arm workouts u like. do them often. stretch and do those work outs. i really dont even think it matters which you do I do a combination of this and this

just pick ones u like that are good for you, working out can be fun and not miserable i promise. do it. save ur wrists. my life has changed, i still feel pain but ive been able to work and not be ready to cry the next day from daring to try

[abyssalzones]

the unfortunate thing is that they really did make bill a more compelling antagonist by giving him 'feelings'. in fact I think it made him like 10x scarier but I might need time to elaborate on that in detail + not sure if I want or need to do that since he's getting more than enough attention rn

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[beargregor]

Chef greg delivery just for you. it's a wonder I hadn't bearified him yet, he's my fave greg too 🔪

gays literally only want one thing (to be chopped up and eaten by a depressed man) and it's fucking disgusting