#I know these are late and I'm missing a day

[envy-of-the-apple]

Family Man Part 2

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part One

Word Count: 8.9k

thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!

Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.

(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))

Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 

For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 

He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 

And you feel empty all over again. 

It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 

Grief. Mourning. Loss. 

When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 

"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."

You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 

He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 

On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 

In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 

"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

He bows. So do you. 

"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 

He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 

Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 

You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.

You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.

Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.

She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.

These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.

You don’t know where you’d be without her.

She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.

You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.

You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.

Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?

You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.

Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.

You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.

You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.

And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.

“There are stains on your blouse.”

You glance down before shrugging.

“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.

Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.

Another milestone Satoshi would miss.

“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”

You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.

On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.

She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.

“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.

“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”

It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.

She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.

You wonder if she blames you for his death.

“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”

A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.

He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.

His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.

You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.

You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.

You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.

Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.

“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”

When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.

On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.

She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.

The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.

Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.

There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.

“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.

“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.

You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.

“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”

“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”

He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”

You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.

Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.

“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.

You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.

He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.

Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.

“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”

He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”

You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.

He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.

Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.

“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.

You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”

“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.

You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.

When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.

Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.

He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.

“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby

You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.

They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.

He’s good with her.

Like Satoshi was.

You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.

“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”

“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.

She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.

When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.

“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”

“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.

And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.

“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.

“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.

“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”

“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.

“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”

He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.

Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?

“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.

When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.

When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.

Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.

You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—

“How much?” He suddenly asks.

You fumble. “What?”

He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”

You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.

Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.

“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”

You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.

“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.

You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.

“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”

His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.

“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”

Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.

Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?

You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.

“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”

You lower your gaze when you take the check.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.

“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”

He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.

You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.

And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.

Sometimes, you dream of home.

Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.

In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.

Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.

Satoshi was one of them.

When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.

It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.

“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.

You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.

She doesn’t smile.

“Be careful.”

You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.

And then you woke up.

Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.

It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.

You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.

You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?

Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.

The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.

There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.

You still have that trophy a decade later.

You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.

They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.

You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.

You miss home.

You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.

“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.

“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.

“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”

Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.

“What’s been going on?” He asks.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.

It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”

“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

He’s silent for a few more moments and then—

“Maybe you’re haunted.”

You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.

“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”

In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.

“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”

You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.

“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”

To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.

Then, Satoru turns to you.

“Or something like that.”

You aren’t impressed.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.

“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”

Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.

He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.

You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.

“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”

“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”

And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

He looks at you then.

“For cheating.”

You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.

“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.

You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.

Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.

But it was fixable.

Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.

You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.

“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”

She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.

“The same as always,” you respond.

You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.

But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?

“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.

The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.

“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”

You stare at him.

“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”

That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?

“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”

You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”

“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”

Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.

“Okay,” you say instead.

Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.

The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.

“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”

You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”

“You?” You prod.

He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.

“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.

“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”

“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.

You stare at him. He’s grinning.

“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.

“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”

You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.

“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”

He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.

“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”

He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.

“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”

You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“I’m thinking of going back home.”

He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.

“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.

You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”

You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.

He’s silent, swirling his glass.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”

“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”

You deflate.

“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”

You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.

Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.

“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.

“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”

“You could.”

You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

And that everything closes the distance between you and him.

It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...

And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.

You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.

You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.

Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?

Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.

Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”

“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”

You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.

Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.

“I love you.”

It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 

“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”

“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”

He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.

This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.

“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”

He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.

You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.

“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.

“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”

Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?

You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—

You kiss him again to stop thinking.

You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.

Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.

He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.

“Bedroom.” You insist.

He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.

Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.

“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”

Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.

He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.

It scares you.

“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”

You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”

You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.

He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.

He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.

He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”

You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.

When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.

He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.

His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.

He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.

“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”

“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”

You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.

It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.

You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.

“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”

He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.

He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.

It felt so good to stop thinking.

“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”

“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”

It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.

Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.

“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.

You nod. He smiles.

He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.

It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.

Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”

That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.

And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.

You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.

He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.

“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.

Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.

You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.

And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.

“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”

“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.

Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.

“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.

“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”

The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.

“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.

He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.

It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.

By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.

He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.

“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”

If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.

You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.

Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.

“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”

You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.

Instead, he groans.

“I’m getting dessert now, too?”

“What?”

As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.

He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.

He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.

Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.

Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.

“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”

Your eyes widen. So does his.

You think you just ruined everything.

And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.

“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.

You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”

“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”

You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.

“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”

You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.

“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.

“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”

You’re finally back in his arms.

Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.

He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.

And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.

“Give...them...back.”

Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.

He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”

Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.

To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.

“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”

Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”

The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.

“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.

“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”

“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”

Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.

“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."

A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.

Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.

A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.

You say yes.

[brokenmenswhore]

I'm so glad you've come back with betrothals and brothels, I love that fic! Also I'm so curious about how it's gonna end up bc basically everyone is in love with mc I love that so much 😭 now that your requests are open again, can I ask you something where Aegon and fem!reader are in love but also betrothed to different people and they secretly see each other at night (not only they're in love but pretty horny as well). When they meet for their final night together it's so sad and beautiful and the next day during Aegon's wedding he decides to just marry fem!reader instead (I mean he's king after all??) who of course is present at the ceremony and they're happy and well in the years to come (I'm sorry I can't deal with sad ending at least in fiction I need things to go well 😭)

i love happy ending fics especially with aegon because he deserves all the happiness in the world <3

the one | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: light smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

“Being sneaky is not my strongest trait, Aegon, sometimes it takes longer than expected.”

“You were supposed to be here last hour, I missed you.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I came as fast as I could.”

“Well I’d hope not,” Aegon teased, frantically pulling your clothes off of your body and tossing them aside, a few garments landing on the wine lining the cellar walls.

You moaned when Aegon connected his lips to your neck, sucking the sweet spot he knew you could cover easily with your hair as you tilted your head back in pleasure.

“Someone’s eager,” you teased, “thought we were going to take it easy tonight? It is our last night together.”

“I hate it when you put it like that,” Aegon sighed, pulling slightly away from you.

You and Aegon had been at this for a while. Since only shortly after you had met, you and Aegon had been in love. Desperate, secretive, lustful love.

You had both hoped your parents would betroth you to one another, but life was cruel. Your father promised your hand to a lord in the Riverlands, and Aegon was promised to his own sister.

No betrothal could stop you from meeting one another in secret, especially late at night.

“It is the truth, you and I both know we cannot continue this after we are wed.”

“The thought of you married to someone else makes me want to vomit,” Aegon said, “you aren’t anyone else’s. You’re mine.”

“I know.”

Aegon sighed and dropped his head, but you caught his chin and tilted his head back upward. “We still have tonight, yeah?” you said.

Aegon nodded his head and immediately leaned in to kiss you, wasting no more time. He unclothed himself as best as he could without breaking away from you.

He backed you up until your back hit a shelf of wine, and a few bottles fell with a cacophony of glass breaking against the ground.

“Aegon!” you jumped, startled by the noise, but he wasn’t phased.

“Oops,” he said, nonchalant, working to kiss you again.

“Aeg, we can’t just leave this here,” you struggled out between kisses, “it- Aegon- if you step on glass it’s not my fault.”

Aegon pulled away and looked into your eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”

“No, but that’s what you love about me,” you smiled.

“Correct,” Aegon responded, “so I say this with love. Shut up and let me fuck you.”

“But there’s glass everyw-“

“Shut up,” Aegon repeated, quieting you himself with a demanding, hard kiss.

Your body instinctively gave in as you lifted a leg up to wrap around Aegon’s waist.

Aegon began to press himself into you, grinding his hips lightly and pushing you more and more into the corks of the wine bottles.

“Fuck, Aegon, we gotta adjust,” you spoke.

“You’re killing me,” Aegon complained.

“Aeg, I’m literally backed against bottles of wine and there’s glass everywhere. How do you think we’re gonna fuck like this?”

Aegon bent down to scoop you up from under your legs. You wrapped your body around him as he walked around the glass, finding a clear spot and slowly lowering your bodies onto the ground. He made sure your back was gentle as it hit the floor, and you clung to him for dear life until you felt grounded.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied, “now shut up.”

He kissed you again, running a hand down the side of your body and eliciting goosebumps. He moved his hand lower and lower until it reached your core.

You gasped as he began to touch you, your back arching off the ground as he rubbed circles on your clit for a moment before moving further down to insert two fingers into you.

While Aegon was usually rough and needy, the moment his fingers were inside of you, he slowed completely, savoring every single breath and gasp from your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out.

The newer, slower pace was new for you, and it made your moans drawn out.

Aegon smiled and groaned as he watched your face contort. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

You nodded your head, and your confirmation only added to Aegon’s own arousal. “Yes, but, w-why are you going so slow?” you struggled out.

“If I only get you one more time, I’m gonna make it last.”

You rested your head back down against the floor, allowing your senses to become consumed by the pleasure Aegon was giving you.

He leaned down and kissed your neck again as you squirmed under him.

Though he was moving slow, the pleasure was still intense, as was anything Aegon did. You were so in love with him, and so attracted to him, that any touch from him drove you crazy.

“Aeg, I-“

“Let go for me,” Aegon whispered in your ear.

You immediately came, his words sending you over the edge. He kept his fingers still inside of you as you came, as he always did. He loved tasting you on his fingers when he pulled them out of you, knowing that the sweetness came exclusively from what he could do to you.

You were out of breath, but Aegon was not prepared to waste a single moment.

He reconnected his lips to yours, and despite your newfound tiredness, you pulled him closer.

He gave his cock a few lazy strokes before lining it up with your soaked entrance. “You need me?”

“I always need you, Aegon, you’ll always be the one.”

Aegon slowly inserted himself into you, causing you to let out a soft, long sigh.

He pressed his forehead to yours, and you both watched your bodies disconnect and connect as he began to slowly pump in and out of you.

He looked up at you, and despite the close proximity, you still felt like he was looking straight into your soul.

“I love you so much,” Aegon said, shaky and breathing heavy.

“I love you too,” you said, holding his face in your hands and leaning upward to kiss him.

────── ☾ ──────

You sat in the pew, leg shaking as you tried to restrain from crying or screaming or lashing out and storming off.

“I cannot believe you are truly making me do this,” Aegon whispered to his brother, who stood directly behind him as he waited at the alter for the ceremony to start.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. As much as it pained you to look, he was much too handsome. His head was adorned with a prince’s crown, and he was dressed in all black, which contrasted his near-white hair perfectly.

You wished it was you waiting to walk down the aisle toward him. Anyone would be lucky to stand at the alter with him and hold his hand.

Aegon’s eyes scanned the room until they met yours. Even with you sitting, he could see how beautiful you looked. Beautiful and sad, just like him.

The piano’s first few notes began, and the room quieted and stood as everyone prepared for the bride’s entrance. Your body turned toward the end of the aisle, but your head didn’t. You stayed fixed on Aegon.

Heleana began to walk down the aisle, her mother by her side. Though you resented her for what she would now become, she truly looked beautiful, and you held no true ill will toward her. This was not her choice either.

Aegon looked at his bride, and then to you.

You suddenly became very aware of your staring at him, and you didn’t want to ruin the day. You forced yourself to look away, and you dropped your head, taking a deep breath to remain calm.

You stared at the floor and listened to the piano until you heard Aegon.

“Stop.”

You instantly lifted your head and turned toward the source of the noise, and he was already looking straight at you.

He swallowed hard in nervousness. “I cannot do this.”

You and Aegon could not break eye contact if you tried. Aegon took a deep breath, forcing himself to turn and address the room. “My sister is very special to me, but that is how she should stay: my sister. She is not the one I will wed today.”

Your eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion. There was no way he was actually doing this. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You were nervous, excited, overwhelmed- every emotion all at once.

“I have decided to marry the one I love,” he announced, “if she will have me.”

Tears filled your eyes and you couldn’t help but smile to show your acceptance.

Aegon continued: “I am the King, after all.”

You took a deep breath as Aegon gestured for you to come toward him. You shifted through the pew and into the aisle, turning to Heleana.

“Do not worry,” Heleana whispered, “you are saving me as much as you’re saving him.”

You gave Heleana a hug and she handed you her bouquet of flowers. Her mother protested, but you could not hear. You could only focus on Aegon.

You turned to face him and began to walk down the aisle, the biggest smile on your face as you made your way across from him.

You handed your bouquet to the woman standing nearest to you, and put your hands in his.

[star-stilinski]

repost of an old deleted fic.

set in the beginning of season 3b.

☆

stiles has been erratic all day, from counting his fingers in class to pacing and rambling nonsense to scott at lunch and accidentally running two red lights on the way home. he says he's tired, says he's just nervous about his dad being on night patrol after almost getting sacrificed, which is fair. but still, it's not like him to act this way.

you can't figure out what's wrong with him.

"i'm fine." he insists as you run your hands up his arms. he's sitting on the edge of the bed, back turned to you and heaving air anxiously. you rest your chin on his shoulder and wrap your arms around his middle.

"then go to sleep. you're all wound up and sleep deprived, you need to rest."

he doesn't move other than lifting his hands. he begins quietly counting.

"stiles."

"alright, okay, i'm just making sure this is real. scoot over." you hear him try to lift his tone to sound goofy, uplifting. it sounds sour instead. you roll your eyes at the silly comment, more than used to him being swooned by you, claiming you were so 'out of his league'. whatever that meant.

he had been using that line specifically in the most random situations lately. in class, at breakfast, even after coach yelled at him for staring off into space.

whatever, he's just odd. you like that.

you curl up next to him as he lays stiffly with his arm around you. with his body heat and his scent and his breathing, you're out in minutes.

☆

screaming.

loud panicked the sheets are thrown off stiles shoots up right before you do screaming is he okay is he hurt did someone break in stiles stiles stiles is screaming at nothing and grabbing his chest and scrambling back on the bed sobbing screaming again.

you act on impulse, grabbing him around the shoulders and pressing him into you, yelling his name over his noise. he thrashes in your arms for a moment before realizing it's you, practically shifting gears with how quickly he changes from pushing away to pushing into you, turning his body to hug you and sob into your neck, mumbling nonsense you can't hear, gripping your shirt like a vice.

you press him close, hushing him. "i know, i know baby. it's okay. i'm right here. it was just a dream. just a dream, okay?"

he nods into your neck and his loud, pleading sobs turn to quiet whimpers as he breathes into you. his grip on your shirt is just as tight as before, pulling your body into him like you'll vanish if he lets go.

"stiles." you hum his name, feeling him shudder afterwards. his grip loosens a fraction. you whisper it again, scratching his scalp lightly. "stiles, pretty boy."

he lets go of your shirt with one hand and uses it to lift himself up just enough to look at you.

desperate brown eyes roam your face. you watch silently as he examines you, eyes hesitating on your chest. you tilt your head, confused for a moment at how he could be distracted after that but you realize-

you take a breath, a deep one that makes your chest rise and you watch his gaze soften. he was watching for you to breathe.

you pet his hair and he shakes lightly, eyes still searching you like he's looking for a tell of some sort.

"lay down, love." you whisper. he complies immediately, collapsing into your neck and breathing you in while you stroke his hair and whisper comforting words.

after awhile, his grip on your shirt falls away and he sinks deeper onto you. as you hum (beautiful boy by john lennon) softly, he mumbles something incoherent.

"what was that, sti'?"

"don't let me fall asleep." he whispers into your skin.

it leaves a chill in the air. it's not sweet. he didn't say it like 'oh i'm so content, don't let me miss this moment.'

he said it like 'it will get me.'

you don't know what it is, but you ignore his wishes. night terrors can be horrible for him, and what he needs right now is a good nights sleep.

it will be the last good nights sleep stiles gets for a very, very long time.

☆

posting this from before i deleted my acc to entertain bc i haven't been free enough to write lately. anyway. love you guys and all the support, i am still alive and kicking and my drafts are moving (albeit slowly)! have a good night, here's a spoonful of angst!

[hanjsquokka]

Can I please have 💞 and 🩵 with Han Jisung?

( 🩵. ) — kiss in the rain. & ( 💞. ) — a longing kiss shared after being apart for a while.

han jisung × fem!reader, fluff, fluff, FLUFF!! , warnings : very cheesy stuff , wc : 1k

a/n : thank you sm for sending this anon 🫶🏼🫶🏼

If there was one thing Jisung hated the most about going away for work, it was that he'd miss you. He'd miss living in your shared home, waking up every morning to see your face, cooking with you (mostly just him watching you), going to bed every night with you—just you. The moment he had the opportunity, he hopped into a car and eagerly awaited the surprise on your face when you opened the door for him.

His plan was... a failure because you didn't open the door for him, and neither were you there inside when he walked in, hollering a sappy. Baby, I'm home! With a pout on his face, he searched the apartment for your familiar face, only to be met with silence. A weight settled in his stomach as he wandered through empty rooms and neatly put away items, like you'd never been here at all the entire day. You were mostly likely at work, not knowing of his plan to surprise you, which was something dumb—he understood that the more he thought of it. 

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and Jisung went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator for a drink. He barely glanced at the whiteboard stuck on the front, your handwriting messily scribbled over the surface with a black marker. The two of you communicated a lot through the whiteboard, with reminders for dates, important plans, and grocery lists.

His ears perked up when he heard the door click open and your form walking into the household, unbeknownst to his presence in the kitchen. You slipped off your shoes and hung your keys on the holder, walking into the kitchen and letting out a small shriek when you noticed him, your hand on your chest to calm your racing heart.

“You scared me half to death,” you chided, a small huff of laughter following your words as you walked closer to him and hugged him. Jisung laughed as well, muttering an apology in your ear as he embraced you back, hands stroking your hair and relishing in the warmth of you after a long while apart.

He brushed his thumbs along your cheeks before cupping your jaw to tilt your head back. “I missed you,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I missed you like hell, baby.”

“I missed you—mmgph?" He cut you off by kissing you, eyes fluttering close, and kissing you deeply and delicately all at once. You had no idea how he did that, managing to be so rough but gentle at the same time, so lustful yet tender. It was addicting—the way he kissed you. You could never get enough. Your lips greedily chased his when he parted, making him smirk but comply with your silent request and stealing your breath once again. His arms tightened around you, thinking you might slip away if he didn't hold you close.

The need for oxygen became too much, and you broke away, panting and satisfied. “You didn't let me finish. I missed you too.”

Jisung smiled wider. “I hate being away from you. My fluffy, cuddle bug.” You laughed at the random nickname and even more as he leaned back and hoisted you off the ground and squeezed you.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming back today?” 

“It was a spontaneous decision,” he said with a shrug and then added as a matter of fact, “I was deprived of kisses and hugs from my love. I was going to keel over if I didn't get them.” His words were so corny and ridiculous, but they made your heart flutter. 

“Still! You should've told me! I haven't gone grocery shopping yet, so unless you want to eat onions and an overripe banana, we have nothing.”

He frowned, about to whine about the lack of food when he got an idea.

Which was how you two ended up having a late-night convenience store run and eating instant ramen while catching up with each other. It was these random dates that you and him both loved—no plans, just the two of you wanting to spend time with each other after long. Once the cups were empty and your bellies were full, you stepped out into the cool night air, about to head back home, when a drop of water landed on your nose, making you blink.

A drizzle started out of nowhere, the two of you barely covered by the awning in front of the store. “Guess we'll have to wait for it to die down... or I could get a cab,” you mumbled, reaching for your phone in your pocket, but Jisung stopped you, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. You immediately knew what he was thinking, and you shook your head. “No, Jisung, don't—”

He didn't heed your words and did the entire opposite, dragging you out into the rain by your arm, giggling evilly at your protests. The road was empty, and the moon was shining amongst the clouds. Your clothes were soaked and cold, and your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, but you couldn't feel it. Not when he was holding you close.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” he corrected, cupping your jaw. “And live a little, baby.”

“I will whine to your sorry ass when I get a cold.”

“That's a future me problem.” He smirked. “Present me wants to kiss his pretty girlfriend.” He didn't hold back anymore, closing the gap between you two. It was the most cliché thing you've ever done, but this was Jisung, of course it was. The warmth of his body seeped through your rain-drenched clothes, making goosebumps prickle over your damp skin. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, not wanting the moment to pass. A few more heated kisses later, you finally managed to get back home and into dry clothes. 

And you did end up catching a cold, but Jisung was more than happy to take care of you.

TAGLIST : @stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut @ta3baee @caitlyn98s @bbokari711 @oddracha @n1nme4r @dprkbyn @sleepyleeji @realrintaro @starlostseungmin @baby-stay92 @15092000volcano @frequentlykit @cookiesandcreammy

comment/send an ask/dm me to be added or removed from the taglist 💕 or fill out this form 🫶🏼

 

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

[asunflowerana]

g'morning, my pretty wife

hope you had a nice dream. you probably did, since you wouldn't wake up this morning even with the bunch of kisses I left on your face. you deserve the rest babe, especially with how quick weekends seems to pass now.

I headed out early to jog with bokuto and samu before practice, but I promise I won't miss our lunch later. you said you wanted to show me that thai place you found last week, right? can't wait to meet you there, sweetheart.

no skipping breakfast again, alright? if you're late, just call me and I'll order you some uber or something to get you to work. I know you get worried, but you need to eat at least something before leaving. don't want my princess feeling unwell later, got it? you know that I worry for you, and I'm sure you don't want me to freak out like last time.

love you with all my heart, baby. have a good day today.

with love,

your husband atsumu.

[loveleecakess]

୨☕୧ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ !!! ⏜ ۫ . ⟡

Character: -Bakugou Katsuki

# !! ꒰ Independent ꒱ 🥢 🥡

-I think Bakugou's dorm room would be freezing most of the time to stop himself from sweating excessively. He'd hate the feeling of trying to fall asleep sweaty. -If he showers in the morning he takes hot ones and if he showers at night he takes cold ones. -Bakugou doesn't want people to know he's a huge sap. He acts like he doesn't care about the gifts he receives on birthdays/Christmas, but he keeps them all and makes sure they stay in good shape. -When he was a kid he'd try to sneak TV past his bedtime so he could watch the Adult Swim channel. He managed to get away with it a lot which started up his profanity. -Bakugou cooks dinner a majority of the time in the dormitory since he states 'no one else is good at it' or 'it tastes like shit when someone else cooks it.' He refuses to cook breakfast though. 'Do it yourself.'

꒰ With Others ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮

-Asui and Bakugou are constantly arguing since she's not afraid to say what's on her mind and call him out on his attitude. -Bakugou has been good at styling hair ever since his internship with Best Jeanist. He usually helps Yaoyorozu and Kirishima the most with their hairstyles. -Hatsume has unintentionally gotten Bakugou in trouble when one of her inventions explode and a staff member thinks Bakugou used his quirk on campus without permission/supervision.

🕯️୧ ‧₊˚ ꒰ Bakugou x fem!reader꒱ !!

-His love language is definitely acts of service: -He'll make sure there's enough coffee left in the morning so he'll be able to pour you a glass. -He'll occasionally cook your favorite meal for dinner at the dormitories or secretly work on a cute little bento with little rice ball characters to surprise you with during lunch. -If he remembered how much you wanted a certain snack he'll make sure to get it the next time Class A needs to get groceries for the dorm. -He'll subtly hold doors open for you and pull out your chairs if he can. -Since he goes to bed early, he sometimes misses a few of the night texts you send him ( if reader sleeps late ), but he'll spend the first few minutes of his morning reading all the things you messaged him. -He'll let you borrow his manga but you have to promise you'll be sure to return it in pristine condition.

⠀ི ·̩͙ ꒰ঌུ A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this! I'm going to try and make this a series with a majority of the students in Class's A and B. Also, Have a nice day and lmk what you think !!! X3 -I apologize if the format of this post looks weird on mobile! I am a laptop user!

[tearsucry]

I love it! Like EVERYTHING!

Can I request angst? I love Agatha

— °˖ ⊹ ꒰ 🌑 ꒱ we wave goodbye at moons shine. — agatha harkness

content warning;          angst content mdni, young! agatha harkness, kissing, agatha is saying goodbye but reader doesn't realize, established relationship, hinted time accurate homophobia | 1.07k words

a/n.                                       okay this might be lame as angst, but honestly, THIS KIDN OF THING HURTS ME THE MOST, LEAVING STUFF. so i hope it's good, nice and acceptable for you nice readers <3 thank you for reading

the moon hung low in teh sky, casting long shadows across the village outskirts as agatha made her way to the old fishing cottage next to the pond, not far from the village. her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each step weighing more than the last. she couldn't let her falter.

not tonight.

you were waiting, just as agatha had known you would be. you kneeled on the plank pier, beneath the towering branches of an old oak tree, your soft silhouette bathed in silver light, as if the moon itself grieved for what neither of you knew was coming.

you didn't know, but agatha did- this was the last time the two of you would see each other. her mother and coven probably figured it out by now that she was reading into books she wasn't supposed to, that she had dabbled in dark magic despite her coven's rules not to. it was only a matter of time before they would capture her and put her on a real trial.

agatha paused for a moment, watching you, etching this scene into her memory. she would need to carry it with her when she left- something to hold onto when the loneliness crept in.

"agatha," you called softly, your voice a balm to agatha's wounded soul. she stepped closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but there was a question in her eyes. "I have missed you."

agatha swallowed hard and forced a smile in return. "I'm here now."

she wanted to say more. she wanted to pour her heart out, to tell you that she had missed you too, that she had spent every waking moment these past few days wrestling with what she had to do.

but she couldn't.

there were no secrets between the two of you, a poor human like you who was foolishly and madly in love with a witch would never tattle on her, and agatha also trusted you enough to not keep such a part of her hidden, despite her coven's instructions. but not this, the truth would have to stay buried, like so many other secrets that had kept you both safe in this cursed village.

you stepped closer, your hand reaching out, brushing against agatha's. "you have been distant lately. is something wrong?"

agatha shook her head. she couldn't let you see her fear, couldn't let you guess at the storm brewing just beyond the village's borders. if you knew- if you even suspected- everything would unravel and you'd be in danger of being prosecuted.

"i have had this headache," agatha started, her voice steady, though it felt like a lie. "there's been a lot on my mind."

you frowned, unconvinced. you stepped even closer now, so close that agatha could feel the warmth of your breath in the cool night air. "whatever it is," you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and simultaneously pulling the hood of her cloak down. "I'm here to listen to all your trouble."

the young witch's chest tightened. she wanted so desperately to tell you, to share this unbearable burden. but if she told you the truth, she would only be placing you in danger and she also couldn't risk you wanting to follow her, afraid of what might the coven do if they ever found out about someone who could affirm their suspicion about her use of the darkest of magic.

agatha shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. "there is nothing to worry about," she lied. "I just needed to see you."

she couldn't keep risking losing her composure, and without thinking, agatha leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. it was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened as the unspoken words between the two of you surged to the surface. agatha kissed you as if this moment was all she had left- as if, through the kiss, she could somehow tell you everything she was forbidden to say.

her love.

her fear.

her goodbye.

you responded in kind, your hands slipping around agatha's waist, pulling her closer. the kiss was full of longing, a silent promise, though neither of you spoke a word.

when you finally broke apart, agatha kept her forehead resting against yours, her eyes closed as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. this was goodbye, even if you didn't know it.

"i should go," agatha whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet night.

your grip tightened around her waist, unwilling to let go just yet. "stay a little longer," you pleaded softly, your breath warm against agatha's lips.

agatha's heart ached at the request. she wanted to stay, to hold you and pretend you had all the time in the world. but every moment she lingered made it harder to leave, harder to walk away for the slim hope of seeing you ever again.

"the burning should be over by now," she whispers, pulling back slightly, her hand brushing over your cheek. "but we'll see each other soon."

you smiled faintly, though there was sadness in your eyes- no matter how much time the two of you spent together, it always felt like just a few minutes. "promise?"

agatha nodded, lying through her teeth and smile. "promise."

the two of you kiss once again, but this one is much slower and longer. it lasts until your fingers are cold, until your lungs burn for air, until the stars shine brighter above you, shining just as brightly as you shone below. agatha pulls away, her hand still lingering on the curve of your jaw. she has to tear herself away. she can't stay any longer.

and so she took a step back, feeling the cold rush in between you where warmth had once been. you stood still, your arms slowly falling to your sides, the space between you now more than just physical.

with one last glance, agatha turned and began walking away, but not without waving you goodbye like she always did, her steps slow, deliberate. after that, she couldn't look back, because if she did, she knew she might never find the strength to leave.

in the clearing, the young witch's goodbye lingered, carried by the wind to you and though you didn't know it yet, your last kiss was already a memory.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Picture Day

Tee Higgins x Chase!Reader

Desc: You start getting antsy 5 weeks postpartum and find something to do with your hands.

TW: nothing too bad, mostly fluff.

Princess Ti | Main Masterlist

WC: about 1k

＊✿❀ *. ꕥ * · ❀✿＊

The buzz from your clippers fed your creative soul. You had only come in the salon to reminisce and take some time to yourself while your baby girl naps. You couldn't help but miss the chatter of clientele and the smell of coconut oil usually in the air. The pristine white counters in front of each station were completely bare, only each counter’s handheld hair dryer sticking out of the black cubbies.

Sitting in front of the first station, you think back to when your husband asked you what you really wanted in your home. It was a ballsy ask, in your opinion; you weren’t even sure what he meant by it. But he said you could turn the basement into whatever you wanted. It baffled you because you thought he’d want a man cave to escape the realities of marriage. That’s what your dad did, so you thought it was normal to think so.

So you tossed around the idea of taking on more personal and private clients in a home suite. A month later, he pleasantly surprised you with a fully furnished and functional home salon. It resembled a mini version of your main salon in the city. There is nothing that man wouldn't do for you.

After giving birth, Tee kicked into full dad mode. When he said your only job once Tiana was born was to just take care of her, he did not go back on his word. He's been an absolutely phenomenal father and partner, always taking her when you need a break, making sure you eat and stay hydrated, and even getting up during the night to calm her down. Him and your brother are literally upstairs putting together a new nursery glider so your morning feedings can be cozier.

Maybe that's why you're so antsy. You were so used to always caring for others; now that someone is holding you down the same way, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even cook anymore. Your mom has been handling all the meals so you can take time and heal. Everything they were doing was amazing, and you deeply appreciated it, but damn, you were bored.

The sound of your phone buzzing made your train of thought drown.

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

we're done with yo fancy ass chair, come see it while Titi still sleep

sent at 2:23 pm

You thought about going back upstairs for a minute, but a different idea caught your attention.

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

I have a better idea, you bring your wack ass fade to the basement and come sit in my chair😌

read at 2:27 pm

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

arent you supposed to be resting, imma tell momma👎🏾

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

Im offering you a free haircut and you wanna go rat me out😑 don't you have team pictures in a few days👀

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

fine im coming, but when momma finds out I'm blaming you

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea right, just come down here. AND DONT TELL TEE!

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea... a little late for that one😬

read at 2:33 pm

Great, just when you thought you'd be able to do your own thing, your little brother goes and fucks it up before it happens.

Oh well, you shrugged and walked over to the back of the salon for your supplies to set up for Ja'Marr's haircut. You grabbed an apron for you and a barber cape for him (even though you should let him be itchy for threatening to snitch), your black pro clippers, a razor, a number 1 and 2 comb, some holding spray, and a brush. Then, set up your chair.

Minutes later, you were all ready, and your client walked in with your husband.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm giving my brother the haircut he so desperately needs." You smile back, patting the back of the chair for J to sit down.

"You're supposed to be resting." He crosses his arms as you drape the cape over your brother.

Smirking, you untie your apron and walk up to your husband with your hands on your hips. "Look at me, babe." You slowly spin around to give him an eyeful of your postpartum baby body.

"I see you, mamas. Trust me, I see you." The very nice thing about everyone making sure you take care of yourself these last few weeks has been your ability to prioritize your "snap back." You weren't working out to get to a certain shape. You were just prioritizing strengthening your core, which meant some belly binding, light ab exercises, and self-care. You were nowhere near your pre-baby weight, but you liked the extra curves, and someone else did too.

"You can't just expect me to just sit down and wait for Tiana to wake up. I gotta keep my body active, practice my trade."

He knew you were saying words, but ever since that apron came off, his mind was somewhere else. "Oh, I know how you can get active."

"Alright, y'all just nasty. Am I getting my hair done or what?" Ja'Marr groans from behind you.

"Yea Tee, you gon' let me work or what?" You say, biting your lip.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fine," he says, pulling a waiting chair over to the corner of your area. The 6-week rule playing over and over in his mind.

"Good, now let's get to work. Don't worry babe, you're next." You chirp, picking up the brush to begin the haircut.

But Ja'Marr jerks his head away. "Ay, Y/n don't go too rough now."

You can't help but snort. "Yes, yes, I know. You too tenderheaded for my skills."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ a/n: yall see what I did there ;) last addition to the au for a while. time to go work on some other fics ♡

[disneyprincemuke]

i want to be the one that makes your day * ls2

[part two out of eight]

they're now stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out how they feel for one another

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: hi lol i'm sorry i pulled a disappearing act on yall... i hope u still like rocky and logan because hehe

wc: 3.9k

(series masterlist) | (through the years)

2021

“hey, do you wanna– are you going somewhere?” logan tilts his head with furrowed eyebrows as he takes a step into her room.

the girl, standing by her vanity, turns to him as she pauses putting her lipgloss on. “i’m heading out with lily and a couple of uni friends,” she frowns slightly. “is there something you wanna do?”

he takes a step back and scans her. she’s dressed pretty casually, just a pair of jeans and a cropped shirt with one of his jackets on.

so that’s where his damned jacket went.

truth be told, logan could have asked for it back. he should have asked for it back because that is in fact his favourite jacket on her and he has been looking everywhere for it.

he can practically see visions of himself accusing oscar for taking the jacket and refusing to admit his wrongdoings. all along, it’s been with her.

now he dreads the apology that he owes oscar.

if you asked him, she looked kinda better in it than he does.

he feels his knees buckle at the sight of her in one of his clothes. it’s a regular occurrence, yet there’s still something about knowing that it belongs to him. and if you asked him, she definitely looks better in it than he does.

but he supposes he only feels this way because he has feelings for her.

“i was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner with oscar and i tonight,” logan sighs, rolling his eyes jokingly with a teasing grin. “but you look like you’d be out until late.”

she hums and purses her lips together. “i could make it for dinner.” she puts her lipgloss down on her table and grabs her purse from her chair. “text me the details and i’ll meet you guys there?”

“you don’t have to,” he hums. “we could just get dinner tomorrow.”

“we weren’t planning to stay out late. just finishing a couple of assignments together,” she shrugs. she spreads her arms and twirls. “how do i look?”

he chuckles, nodding. “you look great.”

“good!” she starts walking over to him with a scrunched nose. “i’ll give you back the jacket tonight, i promise. i had to keep it for myself for a couple of days because i,” she pauses and momentarily looks away with a teasing smile, “well, i just like this jacket.”

so there’s the confession. now he knows where his jacket’s gone. he sighs internally, noting the apology he’d have to give oscar for accusing him of taking his jacket.

“seriously?” logan snorts with a soft laugh.

“yeah! it looks better on me anyway, don’t you think?”

he simply grins at her, pretending to be annoyed. but if he had the choice, he’d have told her to keep the jacket for herself for the rest of time.

logan scoffs and rolls his eyes, ignoring the thumping of his heart in his chest. “sure, whatever you say.”

logan picking her up from school is suddenly a normal occurrence. every single time she finds herself having to travel to campus, she finds herself in the passenger seat of a car.

specifically, logan’s car.

even though she has a perfectly running vehicle for herself that she can drive just fine.

he claims her driving habits scare everyone so he’s technically doing everyone a favour, which she is inclined to believe. because everyone makes it a point to tell her to drive safely every single time.

it’s getting tiring, really.

but there’s a glimmer of hope in the deepest part of her gut that’s trying to convince her that it means something else. a small part of her begging for it to mean something deeper. she doesn’t want to get her hopes up too much.

“i don’t wanna be the one to say it,” she starts softly, reaching forward to lower down the volume of the radio, “but you missed our exit.”

logan raises his eyebrows with a soft hum and a simple nod. his eyes remain on the road, “did i?”

she raises an eyebrow and turns to face him slightly. he has been driving this route to and fro for a couple of months now.

she doesn’t buy his facade.

she was on campus from before the sun had risen and left after it was set — logan would normally be apologising for not bringing her home as soon as possible.

“where are you taking me?” she sighs, dropping her back into the seat and sinking into it. “you’re not whisking me away to kill me secretly, are you?”

she gasps before logan can answer, throwing her head back with the back of her hand pressed against her forehead dramatically. “i’m too young!”

he scoffs, glancing at her momentarily with a scowl. “you are so annoying. can’t i bring you to get some dinner without you ruining my plans? it was supposed to be a surprise.”

her knitted expression slowly softens. she turns away and presses her back against the seat, a small grin making its way to her face.

just when she thinks she can’t like him any more than she has, he goes ahead and does things like these for her.

it’s very endearing and she finds herself needing to catch her breath.

with her silence, logan looks over and laughs. “that shut you right up, didn’t it?”

“shut up,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest. “what did you get for dinner anyway?”

“i placed an order from your favourite restaurant downtown,” he explains. “i noticed you haven’t been eating dinner all week when we got home. i figured i’d have to force you into eating dinner.”

come to think of it, she realises the number of times she’s skipped dinner this past week. she didn’t think anyone would notice.

she sighs and throws her arms into the air. “i’m trying to be ahead of my deadlines for the upcoming race weekends.”

“it’s just one dinner.” logan stops at an intersection and turns to her. “come on, i already planned everything out for us tonight. i’ll even have you home by 9 so i don’t take up too much of your time.”

she shakes her head and keeps her gaze out the window.

he taps her gently on the shoulder with a teasing hum, leaning in towards her. “i’ll even help you out with your research.”

“i’m a computer sciences major.”

“with your coding,” logan corrects himself. he taps her on the shoulder one more time, prompting her to whirl around to face him. “please? i don’t want you to starve and i ordered all your favourite dishes.”

it’s infuriating that she’s never truly gotten over her crush on him.

all she can think of is how close he is to her — she can feel his breath fanning down on the tip of her nose. she tries to contain the way her heart pounds and the urge to lean in and crash their lips together.

“okay,” she whispers, barely heard above the music that he’s put on. “but you help me with my coding.”

“absolutely,” he nods, tapping her on the cheek, “anything for you.”

she should just do it; she should kiss him. what’s the worst that could happen?

it’s just a kiss. okay, she’ll do it. she sucks in a deep breath and just about starts to lean forward.

it’s now or never.

they jump away from one another at the booming sound of someone’s car horn. logan turns and finally faces the road.

“it’s a green light!” logan clears his throat as he shifts in his seat. he looks into the rearview mirror as another loud horn is sent his way. he starts to move slightly. “oops.”

another sleepless night trying to meet another deadline. every weekend makes it harder to try and finish her education with the life she’s been trying to live.

with a race weekend coming up soon and her deadlines adding to the mix, she feels her body slowly giving up.

she’s barely been home and spent time with anything else than the gym and her laptop screen.

she lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back as she rubs her eye. “i’m going to die here at this table,” she mutters to herself.

the entirety of the first floor of the house is empty and silent. if she isn’t so consumed by the sheer pressure of scoring good grades, she would be slightly frightened by the eeriness that is the barely lit home.

she sits cross-legged on the floor of the living room. she has textbooks sprawled on the coffee table with her laptop shining into her face.

“you’re still up?” she follows the trail of the voice, meeting logan’s barely awoken stature at the top of the stairs. he has his blanket over his shoulders as he starts to walk down towards her. “what time is it?”

“two-thirty,” she shrugs with a small smile, trying to match his concern for her well-being. “i can’t figure my code out.”

he purses his lips as he makes a turn for the couch she’s sat in front on. “you’ve been glued to your laptop since we had dinner at 8. take a break, dude.”

she shakes her head and promptly returns her attention to her screen. “i can’t. with the race coming up, i want this out of my hair before then.”

“okay.” he drops the blanket on the arm of the couch and turns. “coffee or tea?”

“tea, please. thank you.”

she must have been so consumed by her work because she didn’t notice the cup of tea set up with a coaster right by the textbook. neither does she notice the second cup sitting next to it and the man that’s now sat next to her, wrapped in his blanket once more.

“what are you doing?” she laughs, turning to logan. “go back to bed. don’t you have to be at the gym early tomorrow?”

“i can always come in a little later and end later,” he mutters with a simple shrug. “i’ll keep you company.”

she grins and shakes her head. “don’t bother. at this rate, i’ll be up until i have to be back on campus at 3.”

logan smiles back, patting her gently on the top of her head. “don’t worry about me. i'll keep you company until you’re done for the night.”

she tries to ignore the bigger smile that stretches her lips. a huff passes her lips, feigning annoyance, as she starts to scroll away on her laptop. “sounds like i'm not getting rid of you any time soon,” she jokes, “tell me a story.”

she walks into the kitchen, jumping back at her best friends already eating breakfast. she blinks and tilts her head, “oh. you’re up.”

oscar is hunched over, solemnly eating cereal. he turns to her with furrowed eyebrows. “yes, it’s noon. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i expected you to sleep in later,” she mumbles with a shrug. “i was going to make you guys lunch and a hangover cure.”

logan nods slowly from the other side of the kitchen island. he’s donned in one of oscar’s hoodies, a cold glass of water in his hands. “don’t bother. we puked in the lawn at 4 when we got out of the uber.”

she grins, “wild night?”

“pretty much,” oscar sighs, holding his head in his hands. he should have known better than to listen to arthur while they were in the club. “you know how it goes.”

“arthur and mick were unstoppable,” logan scoffs, dropping his forehead down to meet the marbled table. “thank god you weren’t there, else i would have passed out on the lawn.”

oscar peeks through his side and grins. “do you think you could make me a hangover shake, mate?”

truthfully, he wasn’t expecting the girl to say yes. he had been waiting for a sour expression and a loud ‘no’.

yet she hops off the bar seat with a soft giggle. “so what else did you guys do?” she turns, her gaze landing on logan. “did logan pick up any girls?”

oscar perks up at the question. he glances across him where logan also lifts his head, furrowing his eyes. he then looks at her, now turned back towards the fridge as she pulls out fruits and vegetables.

“no,” oscar mutters.

at the same time, logan says a noticeable “yeah” with a soft laugh.

she stops in her tracks and looks between them. “one of you is saying yes, and the other says no,” she snorts teasingly, “what’s the truth?”

oscar’s stare lingers on logan. for two people completely and hopelessly in love with one another, he is curious as to what the hell is going on.

is it still acceptable to be this open about your affairs though there are feelings involved, despite it not being said aloud?

has he been in a stable relationship for too long that he no longer knows the procedures of having requited feelings nowadays?

“i tried,” logan shrugs with a small grin. “but arthur dragged me away before i could even get back to the dance floor with her.”

is this some kind of twisted game they’re playing? or maybe he’s reading too much into their stares and they’re really over one another?

“you know arthur,” she giggles. “well, you know him.”

maybe they’re really just best friends now.

you would think that after an entire year, oscar would finally believe his best friend regarding his feelings. he wants to believe logan, really, but he is really not helping his case.

oscar leans back on the kitchen island and raises an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest. “she could just get her own orange juice if she really wanted some, mate.”

“you know her,” logan mutters with a soft sigh. “she neglects herself this time of the year with her deadlines and school. it’s the least we could do.”

“you,” oscar corrects him, “the least you could do for her.”

she’d admitted to logan in a trance the other night that sometimes she thinks that this isn’t the life for her — racing and trying to finish her education. she was mumbling something about being too ambitious to want to have both things when clearly, she’s only destined to have one or the other.

she’s not cut out for both, she’d said.

“she’s having a hard time. you’ve seen it; i don’t have to point it out to you.”

logan turns to the kitchen island where he has an entire breakfast set up for the younger girl. there’s scrambled eggs and a few slices of bread on a plate. he sets the cup of orange juice down on the tray and sighs. “am i forgetting something?”

“yes,” oscar sighs, “the fact that you’re just her best friend.”

the american turns his head with a mean glare. he knows there’s a chance that all this will never amount to anything more than what it is.

but right now, while she’s still struggling, he feels like this is the least he could do for her. just making sure that she is well taken care of when she’s not doing it herself.

isn’t that what best friends are for?

“you’re in way over your head,” oscar continues softly, following logan towards the stairs up to her room. “i just watched you strain pulped orange juice for 10 minutes.”

“they didn’t have any pulpless orange juice at the store!” logan scolds back softly, trying not to let the irritation get to him. “she won’t drink it if it has pulp. you know that.”

“that’s barely our problem to solve.” oscar runs ahead a couple of steps and holds his arms out. logan halts his steps and looks up with wide eyes and a sigh, already knowing where the conversation is going. “you’re digging yourself a grave by doing all this. you’re in love with her, mate.”

logan scoffs. “i am not in love with her.”

that’s what he says, but it’s not exactly what he feels. more so the fact that he is still in denial having feelings like this towards his best friend.

even a child could sense the lie.

oscar shrugs and steps aside. he gestures for logan to continue up the stairs. “okay.”

logan continues to give him a skeptical stare as he slowly climbs up the last few steps of the stairs. “i’m not, i swear,” he repeats, eyes pleading for oscar to believe him just this once.

the australian nods and raises his hands in the air. “hey, whatever you say, mate.”

oscar knocks on her bedroom door for logan.

they share a knowing look with one another. oscar’s stare silently sending him waves of uncertainty, but what scares him is the same feeling that logan’s is throwing at him.

as if he doesn't entirely understand what’s going on either and why he is acting this way.

“come in.”

“i made you breakfast before i send you off to campus,” logan beams as oscar pushes the door open. “i know how you roll around for like 20 minutes until you’re late.”

the girl sits up from her bed, hair in a dishevelled ponytail and eyes barely open. “i had a late night.”

“we know,” oscar mumbles, closing the door behind him. “we heard you wailing at 4.”

she giggles sheepishly, retracting in her bed to make some space. she taps on the empty space and drops her gaze to her sheets. “my code wasn’t working.”

“figured,” logan shrugs with a soft snort. “well, eat up.”

oscar lingers by the door, hands by his side as he watches them.

she slouches slightly with an almost unnoticeable smile as logan prepares an egg sandwich for her, shyly watching him with her head dropped. it was a scene you would only appreciate as a bystander.

it unfolds like a movie scene right before his eyes: stray strands of her hair falling on her face as she giggles. logan pulls his arm back and starts to wave the sandwich in the air, making a beeline for her and hovering it by her lips.

it’s really not even that funny, oscar admits to himself. he doesn’t know why she’s laughing so hard.

oh, god.

his best friends are in love with one another.

“oscar,” she calls out firmly as her giggle dies down. “aren’t you joining us to eat breakfast?”

oscar lifts his gaze from the ground and meets her curious stare. he takes a deep breath and smiles before he nods. “of course.”

he slowly heads for her bed and nervously laughs.

this simply cannot be good. friends never look at each other that way and remain just friends.

she jolts up, the blanket strewn over her falling down her torso. she looks down at herself and realises she’s been moved over to the couch from her dreadful position on the floor by the coffee table.

she whirls around to the clock and her eyes widen at the time: it’s way past the deadline for her assignment.

she starts to feel the panic coursing through her veins, her chest tightening and her breathing starting to get rigid. she scrambles down the couch and hurls the blanket off of her.

how did she even get on the couch?

she could have sworn that she had set a timer for 5 minutes to immediately lock herself back into double-checking her work. had she dozed off and somehow, at some point through the night, climbed onto the couch to sleep?

she grabs her laptop and hurriedly opens it, trying to list out possible explanations as to how it’s come to this.

“what are you doing?” logan’s raspy voice catches her attention.

he lifts his head from his pillow with his eyes barely being able to open from the sun seeping through the curtains. he has a blanket wrapped around him loosely as he props himself up on an elbow.

she’s heaving, starting to get lightheaded from her situation. because how could she be so careless?

“hey,” logan sits up, “are you okay? what’s going on?”

“my assignment,” she cries.

she can’t help it but tears start to fall out of her eyes. she fans herself with a hand as she frantically clicks around on her screen.

shaking her head hopelessly, she’s barely even able to navigate her laptop through the tears. “i missed my deadline. oh, god, i missed it.”

she wipes her face aggressively with her palms and returns her attention to her laptop. “i don’t even know how i ended up on the couch. how could i be so stupid?”

“okay, breathe.” her body jerks slightly as logan gets a firm grip on her shoulders. he sits on the couch behind her and slowly reaches forward to tear her hands away from the laptop. “relax.”

she resists him. “i missed my deadline! i know you’re not going to school anymore, but this is kind of important! now is not the time, logan.”

he grabs her shoulders again. “i submitted it for you when i found you sleeping at like 3. i moved you to the couch.”

“why would you do that?” she huffs, turning her head to frown at him. “did you even check it?”

logan nods, with a slightly proud smile on his face. “i know a friend who codes, so i asked him to check it for me,” he admits. “then i sent it in.”

he waits for a response, but the girl continues her bewildered stare at him. if you asked him, it kind of scared him.

“i’m sorry. i couldn’t bear to wake you up so i thought i’d just send it in for you if all was okay,” logan explains with a shrug. “and it was!”

she opens her mouth, debating if she should say something. but realistically, what he did is very sweet. and even through her tears and frantic mindset at the moment, even she couldn’t ignore the gesture.

she sucks in a deep breath and lets out a heavy breath. “and you’re sure you submitted it?”

“i triple-checked it, i promise,” he nods with a small smile. logan slides down the couch to join her on the floor. “you just looked so peaceful sleeping. i’m really sorry if i overstepped.”

“thank you.” she pats him on the knee with a soft laugh. “it’s okay but next time–”

“i will wake you up next time,” he finishes her sentence for her. he reaches up to cup her cheeks, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “i’ll make you breakfast to show you how sorry i am, okay?”

she nods, giggling when logan squishes her cheeks. “i want porridge.”

gen taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @localwhoore @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo

[happxme]

I don't understand the posts that say "you just need to shift. The step is to shift" "You just need yourself,the key is within you" "You're the one hiding yourself back, you just gotta let go of it" I ALREADY KNOW THAT,I JUST DON'T KNOW HOW and those aren't explanations. I'm neurodivergent and I need like step by step explaining everything so I can understand😭😭 ( and i know it isn't your fault guys, I'm very grateful for your info. I'm just sad and everything is so so hard lately)

I know I'm the one holding myself back,I know I gotta let go, I know the step is to shift

But i just don't know how, and it's very hard when you've lived in constant stress your whole life. I'm focusing on surviving mentally each day,It is very hard to "just let go",I just want to not have to put effort for once and just see my s/o. I miss him so so much every single minute.

I'm sorry for the rant.

[outofconcheol]

The Sun Also Rises (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: dancer!Minho x ballerina!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, strangers to lovers, travel au, 18+

summary: sometimes, one night is all it takes to change everything. and that's where Minho meets you.

warnings: pov switches, feelings of burnout and poor mental health discussed, alcohol, swearing, alcohol, kind of a language barrier (Minho can understand but is bad at speaking English), lots of tension, they're literally idiots I can't, Hyunjin being the voice of reason, Kento Yamazaki also makes a cameo (twinnn where have you been)

word count: 8k

a/n: consider this my early bday gift to me (and Minho), since both of our bdays are coming up in October. this is based on the film Before Sunrise. I'm very happy with how this fic turned out, it feels very me, so i hope you enjoy! thank you to Beezy @hobeemin for the lovely banner!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension abound, lots of kissing (too much for two people who just met), grinding, beach sex (be cautious when attempting irl), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), pull-out method (again be cautious and wrap it before you tap it), cumshot

The night breeze rustles through the trees, and even though it's late, the city teems with life. Whispers can be heard around every corner, the clinking of wine glasses muddled with the sound of laughter. Minho’s stomach rumbles, the warm, spicy scent of paella wafting from somewhere nearby, and he remembers he hasn’t eaten since this morning.

For a brief moment, he misses the food back in Korea – the deep, earthy flavour of a steaming pot of doenjang jjigae from his eomma’s kitchen. He should really call his parents – they’d probably want to know how their son ended up lost and halfway across the world, stumbling through Gracìa on an empty stomach. 

To be fair, Minho didn’t even know himself. If he was Hyunjin, he could have said that he was attracted to the abstract, flowing architecture of Gaudì, and he wanted to study it. Maybe if he was Jeongin, he’d point to the numerous shops and boutiques that lined the streets of Barcelona, a fashion lover’s paradise. 

But he was Lee Minho –  a failed dance school drop-out, kicked out of his own crew because one day, the music had just stopped. And so did he, frozen in the middle of the routine, before he made a break for it and ran. The weak link in the chain. A note slightly out of tune. 

The discordance of it all didn’t escape him – being here in such an enchanting city, when inside it felt like he’d stumbled and stumbled until he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever be able to dance again. 

And he only had himself to blame.

The streets continue to wind, Minho’s sluggish feet under their spell, going wherever they lead. He remains a prisoner to his thoughts, the sights melding into a blur around him, until suddenly, he hears it. Around the corner.

Music.

And not just any kind – real music. The jovial sound of a live band, so different from the synthetic beats he was used to when it came to choreographing. His feet have a mind of their own, entranced and leading him straight to the source of the sound.

The scene he stumbles into is beyond what he could have imagined for this time of night – under a canopy of twinkling lights, were dancers. Dancers everywhere, twirling and prancing like they were out of a storybook, perfectly in tune with the music. 

Minho ducks behind a tree, his foot tapping in sync to the beat, and watches them dance, their toes skipping from right to left as they move back in forth in a circle. It’s beyond captivating, and he longs to join them. 

He wonders if they recognize him as one of them, or if he seems like just another plain tourist, happily enjoying the feeling of getting lost in a foreign city. 

The circle stalls, the music changing into a slower, more enthralling lilt, to signal the entry of someone new. Minho’s eyebrow quirks when the sea of people parts, the moon’s spotlight now on a solitary figure. 

His breath catches in his throat as he spots you – nimble movements a stark contrast to the rustic giddiness of the common crowd. He knows you must be classically trained – movements precise and ethereal, your meticulous form a stark contrast to the fluidity that surrounds you. He’s spellbound with the way you move – a vision of grace, so different from the swift, powerful movements he was used to executing, watching how the music takes hold of you, like you’re a marionette on strings, letting it lead you wherever you need to go.

Time ceases to exist the longer he watches, taken with the elegant lines of your body, a smile pulling at his lips. He’s so lost in his mind that he doesn’t notice when the music stops, until he feels the rustle of a figure next to him.

Minho turns in surprise, and tumbles backwards into the tree.

It’s you. The dancer.

Your doe eyes look up at him in concern, and it’s only then that Minho feels the sharp twang of pain from colliding with the sturdy trunk, rubbing gingerly at his shoulder.

“Are you always this clumsy?” Your lips curve in a lovely grin, and Minho feels his ears grow hot.

“I’m sorry, I’m new here, I didn’t…” he manages to choke out, too drawn in by the way your eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief.

“Sooo, should I call you New Here, or…” you trail off, and Minho pauses, a few silent breaths passing between you before he finally gets it. His name. You were asking for his name.

“Minho.”

“Ah. Minho. I’m ____.”

“You dance well,” Minho manages to blurt out. 

The words felt heavy on his tongue, like it’d been ages since he’d talked to someone unfamiliar, too caught up in his comfortable ways. His schedule had been simple. Eat, sleep, dance, repeat. And of course go home to feed the cats. But being here felt like challenging everything he’d known.

“You noticed?” You raise an eyebrow in question, and Minho can tell that you’re wondering whether he’s being genuine or saying it just to say it. You were probably used to it – fleeting tourists who flirted for a brief moment before disappearing into the night, too captivated by your beauty to act reasonably.

Maybe he was a fool then too.

“I dance as well. Not here though. Back home. It’s different,” he steps closer, heart warming when you don’t back away, honoured that he’s won your trust. Dance was a language he could always speak, no matter where he was in the world.

“Different isn’t always bad,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What do you dance?”

“Hip-hop,” he rambles, feeling his shyness dissipate when you tune in to the conversation. “It’s not like you, I mean you were–, wow, but I like to tell stories. When I dance.”

He feels himself grow warm at his stilted words, silently cursing the fact that he hadn’t taken Chan up on those English lessons when he’d met up with him for coffee last time. But he never imagined he’d be here.

Your smile only grows as you nod your head along with his words, understanding exactly what he meant.

“So, Minho, what brings you here? To Barcelona.”

Minho bristles, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many reasons, and you were a complete stranger. Did he dare reveal the truth?

“Here, I can be lost, I think,” Minho whispers, hoping you’ll know he means in more than ways than one. “Seoul is different. I think too much. The noise hurts.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I moved here six years ago, and sometimes it feels like I’m living inside a painting. It’s both magical and lonely sometimes.”

A flicker of relief washes over him. You understood him. Minho had been searching for so long for someone who understood – his friends could comfort him, but they didn’t really get it. The paralysis he felt. 

“You’re kind. Kind and good at dancing,” he grins shyly, bunny teeth poking through his lips.

“You’re good with words,” you tease back. “You should have been a writer instead.”

“Too late for that now,” Minho sighs, his entire figure slumping, and he watches you freeze. He wants to tell you it’s not your fault he feels this way, that you didn’t do anything, but the words remain clogged in his throat.

“Well it’s barely 10pm. I wouldn’t say it’s that late,” you say, voice filled with warmth, and Minho slowly comes back to himself, giving you a chuckle.

“Can I, you, we, go somewhere? Together?”

Minho watches you pause for a moment, scared that what he’d offered caused you to hesitate. But something about you made him want to keep talking to you, even if it was only for tonight.

“Sure, I’d love to.” He watches your eyes scrunch in enthusiasm. “I can show you some of my favourite places around the city.”

You beckon to him with a hand, gesturing to the shadowy streets. Minho gulped – this was the biggest risk he’d taken since being here, almost a risk as big as leaving Korea. But with the way you’d captured him from the very first moment he’d seen you tonight, he wondered if it might just be one that paid off.

The night air hums with a new kind of energy as Minho follows you through the streets – whereas before, it all seemed a blur, now the city had truly come alive in his eyes. He peered through the windows of every building you passed, watching happy patrons laugh with each other, the heady buzz of alcohol in their veins.

Minho’s stomach only grumbles louder at the thought of booze, a pang of hunger hitting him. Embarrassed, he braces a hand around his stomach, hoping you haven’t caught on —

But you’re more perceptive than he gives you credit for, already turning around to face him.

“Okay, I definitely know where we need to go first,” you flick his arm, and Minho yelps at the surprising amount of force in the tiny jab. “You can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Minho wants to tell you that he’d never planned on dancing at all, wasn’t even sure if he could anymore, but you’re forging ahead, on a mission.

A couple of blocks later, and Minho is hit with a tantalizing array of scents – the zing of freshly ground spices, the florality of fresh fruits, and the richness of cooked meats.

“Welcome to one of my favourite places in Barcelona,” you grin, gesturing to the wide variety of stalls laid out in front of you both. “Please take your pick.”

Minho knows exactly what he wants, heading straight for a stall serving paella. He’d passed too many damn places with the stuff already, he wasn’t going to miss out on it this time.

You following along, practically skipping with him, eyes alight with excitement.

Minho falters when the kind old gentleman running the stall greets him with an ¡hola!.

“I, uh, uno, por favor,” he stutters, ears burning with embarrassment. 

You step in, gracefully saving Minho from his shame, quickly tittering off a huge order to the stall owner, and Minho feels himself relax.

“He said it’ll take a little bit for the food,” you tell him. “Do you want to explore for a bit?”

Bobbing his head yes, Minho wishes he could so badly take your hand as you weave through the market. But he wasn’t sure if you’d find that overstepping. Whatever he felt, all he knew was that the night seemed endless in the best way, full of possibilities.

The loud voices of the vendors and the clanging of different pots meld together like s symphony in his head, and Minho feels his cold limbs fill up with warmth. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come out of this trip being able to dance again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees something that makes him stop in his tracks. He taps you on the shoulder, and your face falls with concern, but when you turn to see what he’s pointing at, your eyes light up again.

“Hola,” Minho approaches the flower stall more confidently this time. The fresh scent of many different blooms makes him think of his mother’s garden in Korea, full of mugunghwas. He sees the brilliant hue of a bouquet of red carnations, and silently puts up a finger, his eyes darting to you.

The lady running the stall understands him immediately, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She grabs one from the bunch, taking special care to trim the stem. Minho rummages around in his pocket for some spare change, handing the lady more than she probably charged him for, but his heart thuds as he turns around, holding the flower out.

“For you,” he says shyly. “You’re a good guide.”

He watches your lips part in a surprised oh!, and your entire face changes colour when he holds out the flower, suddenly becoming just as shy.

“Oh Minho, you shouldn’t have… thank you.”

You take the flower from him, thumbing at the soft petals and inhaling the sweet scent. You’d received hundreds of flowers in your lifetime, huge bouquets filled with every single kind you could think of, but somehow Minho’s humble gift of a single stem makes you feel the most special. Like he actually sees you.

The two of you remain there for a few moments, unable to follow the exchange with words, until you catch the lady from the stall eyeing you both curiously.

“I think… I think maybe we should go eat,” you finally manage to breathe out, breaking the haze of the exchange. You weren’t sure why it had been so charged, a still moment amidst the hectic market, but it felt like something you’d want to hold on to.

"___?” Minho looks at you, his voice soft. “I’m glad I came here. With you.”

You met his gaze, heart beating just a little faster. 

"Me too."

Belly full, Minho follows you again through the city. Anyone looking at the two of you would think he was a little lost cat, following you around. But really, it was the opposite. Something about him made you want to stay with him. In your six years in the city, you hadn’t made very many friends. You chalked it up the the demanding nature of your job, saying you were always tired after dance practice and your feet were sore from wearing pointe shoes 85% of the time.

But you knew that was mostly an excuse. Right here, right now, it felt nice being with someone. Sharing things with someone. It only made you think of what would happen when the night would end, and Minho would leave, your loneliness welcoming you into the abyss once more.

Turning the corner, you spot it. The cozy bar was tucked away on a quiet street, its silence punctuated by the soft clinking of glasses.

Pushing the wooden door ajar, you lead Minho into the small, quaint space, filled with flickering candles and the scent of citrus and spices. The bartender sees you come in, waving a hand in greeting, and his grin only widens more when he sees Minho trail in behind you.

“Hello Kento,” you wave back, and Minho pauses again, studying the man across the bar.

“おはようございます (ohayu gozaimasu),” Minho’s low voice rumbles among the quiet din of the bar, and your jaw drops open in surprise. Minho does nothing but wink, moving to a quiet corner to pull out a chair for you.

Kento comes by to take your order, tempting you both with some of the fine-label vermouth he keeps under the bar, and you watch Minho quietly converse with him for a few moments, exchanging hushed words in Japanese.

His voice is pretty, you think. In another life maybe he could have been a singer.

“You’re full of surprises,” you tease him, watching him fidget with his napkin. 

“Tokyo is close by to Seoul,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “And I like to watch animes.”

“Where did you come from Minho? Why haven’t we met before?” You give him a wide grin.

Minho becomes quiet, his handsome face marred by what seems to be a dark cloud.

“Leaving Korea was not my plan,” he manages to grunt. “I have things there. My cats. An apartment. Dancing.”

“So what made you do it?” The words slip out, and instantly you regret them, watching pain twinge on his face. You’d hit an unexpected nerve.

“I’m looking for something,” he admits. “I don’t know what it is. My friend Hyunjin told me about Barcelona.”

“Well I think we were always meant to meet then. Hyunjin sent you to me so I can help you,” you reach over, grabbing his hand within yours. Under the dim light you study it – muscled and with prominent veins. He had a dancer’s body for certain. “Us lonely dancers only have each other to rely on huh?”

“Dancing made me happy. I, uh, what’s the word, like clothes, they–” he stumbles through his thoughts, but you don’t need him to voice them.

“Fit. It makes you feel like you belong.”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?” you blurt out, instantly regretting it when he recoils. “I’m sorry Minho, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, no it’s okay.”

Kento swings by then, with two glasses of vermouth, rich, and slightly sweet with a hint of bitterness. Watching Minho knock back the alcohol, you see his body loosen up, instantly feeling the tension from the previous conversation melt away.

“Have you ever had a bad dance?” Minho asks, brown eyes glimmering with interest.

“Oh, many times,” you respond with a light laugh. “One time, when I just moved here, I slipped during a performance of Swan Lake in front of a huge crowd. I locked myself in my apartment for a week.”

Minho chuckles, but then leans in, like he’s genuinely concerned. “How did you recover?”

You know he’s probably talking about the smarting ankle you must have had, but you think he means more.

“I walked in the next week and continued dancing like nothing happened, But it took time to get over. The pressure to be perfect can be overwhelming sometimes.”

Minho nodded, understanding the weight of expectations when it came to doing what you both loved. 

“I want to let go,” he says, gaze softening. “But it’s hard.”

“I believe in you, Minho. You’ll find the music again.”

“For you, I’ll try,” he teases softly, but you can hear the hint of determination in his voice.

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the air between you crackled. You realize this entire time, you hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand. And he hadn’t made you either. Pulling him up with you, Minho yelps in surprise, barely having a second to wave goodbye to Kento before you’re dragging him through the door, back out into the cold night.

“I think I know something that may help.”

Buzzing from the alcohol, you drag Minho deeper into the neighbourhood, the glow of the streetlights casting a warm golden hue over the cobblestones. 

Heat radiates from where his palm meets yours, a soft breeze helping to calm the racing of your heart. Eventually, you hear it – the echo of a faint tune reverberating from the nearby buildings, and you know you’re almost there. A group of street musicians come into view, their lively jig fading away to a slower, more sensual melody.

“You’ve been talking this entire time about being bad at dancing, but I haven’t seen you actually do it,” You giggle, eyes gleaming with mischief. You take a few steps towards the middle of the square, beckoning Minho with a playful grin. “Come on.”

You watch Minho stall, and your heart races, thinking maybe you messed up. Maybe it was too soon for him, maybe he was scared and didn’t want to try again.

“Here? In front of everyone?” he replied, chewing nervously at his lip. 

“Why not?” you challenge. “Forget everyone else. It’s just you and me. Two people who love to dance.” 

You squeeze Minho’s hand in yours, squealing in shock when he pulls you close to him, arm wrapping around your waist. Leaning into his chest, you inhale his warm, woody scent, feeling yourself shiver.

“Okay,” he sighs. “But don’t think badly of me.”

“I could never,” you whisper into his neck.

Minho chuckles at that, stepping back to dramatically bow, before sweeping you into his arms once more. You move into the open space of the plaza, surrendering to the rhythm as the notes of the music envelope you both. Pressing lightly into Minho, your hand comes to rest in the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tell me more about you,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to know.”

“My cats, they’re called Soonie, Doongie and Dori, they live with me in my apartment,” he smiles, pride taking over his expression when he thinks of them. “You?”

You twirl free from him, dress flaring for a moment,, then spin back, hand finding his once more.

“My mother was a ballet dancer. She hurt herself when I was young and could never dance again. It’s why I chose to follow her,” you admit, finally letting yourself break free from the walls you’d built.

You let your arms float gracefully above your head, marveling at the way you and Minho moved together. His movements  were fluid and free, a sharp contrast to your precision, bodies weaving together like the finest tapestry. The air between you crackled, the pull between you like two halves of a magnet.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho says, his gaze intense as it meets your eyes, then travels, to your lips, down your neck, even further. You feel a throb between your legs, sparks erupting across your skin everywhere he touched. 

The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to pulse with every beat of the music. The world no longer felt as big or scary anymore, narrowed down to the two of you, everything else fading into the background. 

Suddenly, the scene around you spins, and you’re looking up at the stars, Minho’s face hovering above yours. You lean in, lips ghost against his jaw.

“Am I distracting you, Minho?” His breath caught at your query, and he sighs, drinking in the subtle scent of your skin.

You gasp when he spins you around, back meeting his front. Shivers run up your spine when he leans in, chuckling in your ear.

“Yes, but I like it,” he groans, low voice ringing in your ears, and everything around you fades as you begin to move together. Hips swaying side to side, Minho’s palms settle below your waist, so close to where you need him, and you whine softly. Even though you’re turned away, you can feel his smirk in your ear, and it all feels like it’s too much. Yet you don’t want it to stop.

The haze lifts with one particular thrust of his hips into you. A small moan leaves your mouth, and everything clears, and your heart begins to race. Shakily, your eyes meet Minho’s, surprised to find them blown out in deep pools of lust.

Minho’s shaking fingers cup the line of your jaw, his lips pressing against yours. You comd your fingers through his hair, sighing against him, finally giving in. He kisses you first with the utmost gentleness, pulling back to search your eyes for anything wrong.

Despite the chill in the night air, you’ve never felt warmer.

When you nod no, Minho leans in again, his previous gentleness giving way to hunger, the tip of his tongue gliding past your lower lip, sighing at your taste. You feel like you’ll keel over if he’s not holding you, all the blood in your body rushing away from your head.

When he finally pulls away, breathless and wide-eyed, you feel your words clogged in the back of your throat.

“I-,” you struggle, seeking brief respite from the emotions coursing through you, but not wanting the moment to end.

“I didn’t expect this night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, filled with awe.

“I’m glad it did,” Minho replied. 

Looking around, you realize the music had long stopped, the band dispersing, no sign that they were even there to witness you and Minho’s dance.

“Do you have to go?” Minho asks, and his voice sounds impossibly small, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

You pause. So much waited for you ahead – performances, errands, the struggles of daily life in a foreign city. But you decided that right now, you had more than enough time to leave that behind. 

Shaking your head, you nod no, air swirling with the thrill of the unexpected. And you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

Minho feels the breeze ruffle his hair, and lets his eyes close, shoulders sighing in relief. The lapping of the waves against the shore becomes even louder, the sound of traffic and other people fading away. The sand squishes in between his toes, and he lies back on his jacket, looking straight up at the stars.  For the first time since he’d left Seoul, Minho felt completely at peace. Whereas uncertainty scared him before, now he completely welcomed the unknown. After all, it was what had lead him to you.

Minho feels his body heat when he thinks of you two dancing in the square, your face looking up at his, the feeling of your soft lips. It’d been so long since he was last with someone – dance always took over his life, leaving little time for love. But he thinks that maybe he’d been going about it all wrong.

He feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see you lying right next to him on top of your coat. He can feel the warmth radiating from you, your hair tousled by the sea breeze and flying in the wind.

He really wants to kiss you again.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, letting the rhythmic crash of waves fill in for the unspoken words in between you.

“Hey,” you interrupt the quiet with a whisper, like you’re afraid to shatter the serenity of this moment.

“Hey,” Minho says back, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes. His fingers linger a little too long on your cheekbone before he drops it.

You stare at him, swirling patterns in the sand between you.

“I get it, you know. How you feel. I feel it every day when I dance. Ballet is beautiful, but it’s also... constricting,” you sigh. “Sometimes I just want to be free – free to dance, to live, to love.”

Minho nods, feeling a lump in his throat. 

“I also want that. But I’m scared. What if I’m free and I’m still not happy?”

There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness in his voice. 

“I think happiness finds you when you least expect it,” you say gently, your voice like a gentle pat on the back.

Minho had never expected you at all. But he was glad you were here anyway.

“Can I kiss you?” He manages to choke out, heart racing as he takes in the way the moonlight casts shadows against the curve of your jaw and the softness of your lips. The urge to touch you again felt almost unbearable.

The space between you vanishes, and Minho sees you smile, leaning in closer, and his heart thuds in his chest. He reaches out again, pulling you towards him.

Your lips meet softly, shy and tentative compared to the way he kissed you in the square. It’s as gentle as the lulling of the waves, and Minho feels the world fade away, only able to register the cold sand underneath him, and you. 

As you broke apart, breathless, Minho sees you search his face. 

“What’s on your mind, Minho?”

Minho knows he’s always been pretty poor with words. Chan was the lyrical one in the friend group. Where Minho thrived, and always had, was action. So he decides to show you.

. . . 

Minho leans in again, capturing your lips with a fierce urgency, releasing a euphoric sigh into your mouth. Not wanting to push more than you’re comfortable, he wants for you to respond, fingers carding into his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, warmth blossoming in his chest.

You wonders if he knows you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse point right there below your fingertips, and you reach for his hand. 

“I want you,” Minho finally manages to say. The words are strained, like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I thought it was just me this entire time,” your own voice cracks.” I thought you were just being nice.” 

Because the truth was, you’d wanted him the very first moment you saw him. He may have thought little of himself, but he was a vision in your eyes. A masterpiece to be admired, a person to be cherished.

Minho pulls you into him, body meshing with yours, until you can no longer tell where he ends and you begin. You gasp when you feel his hardness underneath his jeans.

“I am not just nice,” he smiles against your lips. His hands cradle your face, before reaching his arms behind you, fingers ghosting down the the curve of your spine. 

Kicking your shoes off, you feel his fingers run up and under your skirt, skimming against your bare legs and he your breath hitch, chest rising and falling in the pale light of the moon. 

Lips falling to your neck, he inhales your sweet jasmine scent, teeth grazing lightly against the soft skin. You whine into his mouth, hands fisting at the edge of his shirt, struggling to pull it over his head. He slides over you, using one hand to pin both arms behind you, reaching over with the other to slide your your dress down to your stomach, finally peeling it off, and you lie back, eyes alight with desire as you take him in.

The clink of his belt rings in your ears as both your clothes finally finish falling away, and desire pools between your legs. Sliding up against your warm coat, you spread your legs for him, a low hum escaping his parted lips at your messy arousal gleaming on your thighs in the low light. Trailing his eyes back up to your lips, he inches towards you, his breath tickling your bare skin as he leaves kisses on your jaw, your collarbone, in between your breasts. The veins in his arms bulge as his hands come up to cup both your breasts, rubbing your nipples between his fingers until they stiffen, and you let out a soft moan.

The teasing doesn’t stop, his lips enclosing over the hardened buds, messily sucking on them. While it felt amazing, you knew the sun would rise soon, and the time you had with each other was limited. You trap his hand in yours, guiding it to your throbbing clit. He nudges your legs, coaxing you to spread them further, before plunging a finger inside your wet heat, sliding it in and out. Your breath comes out in sharp gasps, your pleas for more being answered swiftly as he slides a second one in, laying his head on your stomach as more and more of your arousal coats his fingers. You mewl, unable to contain your volume as you swallow them deeper, loving the rough drag against your slick walls. His thumb grazes your clit, rubbing it in slow, delicate circles before speeding up, rubbing faster, and his grunts of determination are what push you over the edge as you come.

Breath leaving you in heavy pants, your lips find his desperately, and he teases you with his tongue, his hard cock rubbing up against your wet entrance. You gasp when he pushes in, and he pauses, wondering if it’s too much, but you nod, letting him know it’s okay. He thrusts shallowly, before pushing in all the way, watching you squirm underneath him while rutting your hips.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pushing his cock in deeper, bucking his hips against yours as your nails dig into his back. “You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Minho, I can’t–, it’s too much,” you groan, rocking against him in an attempt to quell the burning in between your thighs..

“That’s it,” he grunts, trapping your clit in between his fingers, rubbing tight circles until you snap, seeking his lips once again, your orgasm flooding your entire body like a wave. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, pulling out and jerking himself off, white ropes of cum splashing against his toned stomach and onto your  stomach before slumping against you.

You can feel his his chest heave with the weight of his breaths, your sticky bodies curled around each other. You begin to shiver from the breeze, and Minho cradles your sticky body in his arms, brushing the damp strands of your hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo)” he whispers against your cheek. You don’t know what the words mean, but you hold them close anyway.

When the first light of dawn washes over the beach, orange and pink and purple poking out from between the clouds, you both know it’s time. It’s hushed – an eerie silence falling in between you and Minho as you scramble to throw your layers back on, the sticky feeling between your thighs a reminder that it hadn’t all just been a dream. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Minho hum absentmindedly to himself, running his fingers through his hair to tame the messy strands, and your heart lurches. 

The silence remains as you bid the sea farewell, the familiar streets of the city you called home greeting you once more. Only this time, you felt like a stranger, unsure of where your relationship stood. You supposed the same could be said for the man next to you.

It takes a few short moments before you’re seated at a café, stirring your coffee pensively. The rich, bitter aroma mixes with the salt from the sea that sticks to your clothes, and you feel nauseous. Across from you, Minho was gazing out at the horizon, his expression pensive.

You knew it was only supposed to be temporary. One of those single brief moments where two strangers met each other, eventually passing like ships in the night, both of them holding onto the memory forever. So why did it hurt so much?

“Are you ready to go back to work?” Minho asked, his voice warm and gentle, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I’ve been rehearsing for weeks. But…” 

You hesitate, heart feeling heavy.

“I know,” Minho finishes your thought. “It feels different this time.”

“I love ballet, I really do,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “But dancing isn’t my whole life. I think I’m just like you Minho. I’ve been searching for something real, something that goes beyond the stage.”

You watch Minho’s face twist, like he wants to say something, and you already know he would have asked you if you’d found it. Because he’d been searching for the same thing. It felt so cruel to have it ripped from your grasp the moment the sun began to rise.

You shared a moment of silence, the weight of everything hanging between you. You took a sip of your coffee, but instead of calming you, the warm liquid only makes your heart race.

“What are you going to do?” You asked Minho, watching his face jump to meet your gaze. “After tonight?”

“Go back to Seoul,” Minho struggles to keep his voice steady. “Maybe take a break from dance, to try something new.”

“Do it,” you encouraged, voice wobbling. “You owe it to yourself to explore what brings you joy. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

The café soon begins to fill with the clink of dishes, the laughter of patrons, the aroma of freshly baked pastries. It felt surreal, almost like a scene from a movie.

Minho reached across the table, his hand covering yours. “Thank you ___. For everything. I wish I knew how to say more.”

You squeezed his hand gently, eyes glistening. “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise you won’t forget this.”

You won’t forget me.

While you and Minho labour through finishing your breakfast, the clock behind you continues ticking, each passing second a reminder that time was running out.

By the time you leave, the sun has fully risen, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Walking side by side, you travel deeper into the city, the streets blurring into each other until you come upon a familiar one. The one that leads to your apartment. It was over. 

“What did it mean?” you ask him, voice tinged with sadness. “What you said on the beach?”

Minho’s smooth voice had lingered in the back of your mind all morning, and you wished you knew Korean, that you could say something back to him. Like he’d tried for you.

Minho looked at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, though his eyes were clouded with emotion.

“I can’t tell.”

Both of you knew it was because it might change everything.

You falter, wondering if you should say something, make a promise to keep in touch, to meet again. But it seems so useless, knowing Minho would probably never come back, and you’d never scrap together the time or money to fly to his side of the world.

You settle for throwing your arms around him, wrapping him in a tight embrace. You bury your head into his neck, committing his familiar scent to memory, wishing it could last forever.

When you pull away, you’re already backing down the street, Minho’s somber expression looking after you.

“I guess this is it,” you said, voice trembling slightly.

Minho nodded, a bittersweet smile on his lips. 

“Take care of yourself, ___.”

The knot in your stomach only grows tighter when you see him step away, tears pricking your eyes. With one last lingering look, he turned and walked away, the sunlight catching in his hair.

As he turned the corner, you whispered a silent wish to the rising sun, that no matter what happened, that Minho would be happy. And that if he was, maybe you could be too.

Adjusting your pointe shoes, the soft strains of music fill the air. You stand on your tip toes, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. What looks back at you looks the same as it always has – perfect form, straight posture, the picture of elegance. But only you know there’s something different now, a wild longing in your heart.

It had been months since that one night with Minho, but he’d never left your mind. Somehow, even though he was oceans away, his ghost trailed after you everywhere you went. When you spun, you could almost feel his hands around your waist, guiding you in a duet. When you came home to your apartment, you wished he was there, the two of you laughing over a cup of coffee. Every time you smelled the ocean breeze, you remembered his lips meeting yours, bodies tangled together in the sand.

He was everywhere and nowhere to be found, all at once.

When practice ends, you chat with your fellow dancers, wishing them a swift goodbye before running out the door.

When the longing built to its worst, you always knew where to go, the warmth of Kento’s bar waiting for you at the end of another rough day. Before, he would tease you, asking where your “special friend who spoke good Japanese” was, but now he only slides a matcha in your direction, his eyes sad while he chuckles about how you needed to cut back on the vermouth.

In a daze, you scroll through your phone, heart dropping when you realized there were no photos of Minho in your phone. The date remained a figment of your memory, like he’d never existed at all. And you had nothing to look back on.

Tears prick your eyes when you realize how stupid you’d been. So caught up in the moment that you hadn’t even thought of asking for his number, or any contact information. There were a million people named  “Minho” from Seoul to wade through every time you opened social media to check.

You wondered if Minho thought of you as often as you thought of him. What was he doing now? Was he happy?

Sighing heavily, you decide you’ll probably never know the answer.

Until your phone buzzes.

. . .

Minho sighs deeply, his muscles aching from another grueling day in the studio. He feels Soonie brush against his feet, his oldest friend curling up into a ball at his feet, and he reaches down to scratch between his ears. Looking out over the balcony, the twinkling city lights of Seoul gleam back at him, but his thoughts are full of another place. And another person. 

No matter how much he immersed himself in his routine—classes, rehearsals, and performances—something felt off. His friends would joke about his trip, saying he’d come back a changed man, like a monk who’d found enlightenment, but his serious expression always shut them down. 

He hears footsteps on the balcony behind him, and Hyunjin comes to sit next to him, holding out a steaming cup of noodles in his hands.

“Eat hyung,” he scolds Minho. “You have to be exhausted from practice today.”

Minho accepts the cup, picking up a few with his chopsticks, but decides he can’t stomach them, staring absently at the cup.

“Hyung, I don’t mean to pry, but,” Hyunjin sounds unsure, like he’s poking a sleeping dragon. “What happened in Barcelona?”

Minho shoots up at Hyunjin’s perceptive question, knowing his pabo face was terrible at hiding things. Especially from his best friend. 

Whereas Minho struggled to find the words with you, they all came flooding out in front of Hyunjin, recalling everything from the moment he saw you to how you continued to linger in his mind even now. How he couldn’t shake you no matter how hard he tried.

Hyunjin listens along, nodding his head in understanding, and finally leans back, brushing a hand over Soonie’s fur.

“Hyung, I know you’re stupid, but like, have you ever thought about just reaching out? Why are you torturing yourself like this?”

“Hyunjin-ah,” Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand, it’s–”

“Complicated? What is so complicated about it? You like her. It sounds like she likes you. Why waste time on the what-ifs?”

Hyunjin pats him on the back, saying that if the weekend rolls around and Minho doesn’t have an update for him, he’ll threaten to air-fry him.

Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. He pulls out his phone and opens Instagram, thumb hovering over your username. He’d found you right after he’d left of course, easily putting your name and Barcelona together. But he’d never been able to take the final leap to reach out, to build on whatever had started that night.

But now, he decides he’s done wasting time.

When Minho steps off the plane, the air in Barcelona is thick with the smell of orange blossoms and the distant strumming of Spanish guitar. It had only taken a few messages back and forth for you two to fall into the same easy rhythm. Hyunjin teased him for constantly checking his phone for notifications from you, but deep down, he knew that his friends wanted him to chase whatever made him happy.

It hadn’t taken much longer for him to decide to decide to book a flight, seeing an ad for the ballet troupe’s latest performance on your Instagram story. Now, as he watches the streets pass by in the cab, he feels like he might be nauseous, wondering if he’d made the right choice.

But then he thinks back to how one night hand changed everything, and decides that you’re a chance worth taking. 

When he arrives at the performance hall, Minho ducks by the crowd, slipping into the plush velvet seat. Around him, the audience buzzes with excitement, but Minho pays them no mind, his eyes trained on the stage, dark for now.

When the lights go down and the curtains draw back, Minho has to hold in his breath. It was exactly like the first time.

You, in your silver and white costume, gliding across the stage like a wisp of smoke, letting the music lead you wherever you needed to go. Your performance cries with unspoken passion and longing and Minho wonders if all this time, you’ve felt the same way, unable to let him go like he had with you.

Minho doesn’t know if minutes or hours pass before the music finally stops, but he pushes his way through the audience, moving against the crowd to find the backstage exit. To find you.

. . .

“I’m sorry sir, you can’t come back here, this is only for performers…” 

The security guard’s voice booms at the door to the dressing room, and Sakura, your fellow dancer, nudges you, rolling her eyes. A laugh bubbles in your throat, wondering what crazy person had made their way backstage, but then you hear it.

A voice that stops you in your tracks. One you thought you’d never hear again.

“Please, I just need to –, please,” it begs, and you’re up out of your chair before you can even stop yourself.

Pushing past the guard, your eyes widen in disbelief when you see Minho outside. He looks different now, hair longer, and maybe the colour had changed, but the real difference is in his eyes. No longer empty, they light up when they see you.

“Minho?” You whisper, unable to believe that it’s actually real. That he’s actually here.

“Surprise,” he grins, taking a step towards you.

The security guard eyes you both suspiciously, Minho in his long trench and crisp pressed slacks, and you in your sweats, the remnants of your shimmery makeup still lingering on your face, before he slips away.

“What are you doing here?”

“가지마, 나랑 같이 있어 (gajima, narang gatchi isseo). It means that I want you to stay together with me,” he admitted, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you both. 

Tears of happiness shimmered in your eyes as you moved closer, closing the distance between you two. 

“I thought you were just being nice,” you joke, but it comes out a sob.

Minho took your hands in his, and you feel the warmth radiate from his skin. 

“I am not just nice,” he smiles, reaching over to thumb away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. His lips fill the spot where the tear had once been.

“Come with me,” he whispers against your temple. “I have to show you something.”

. . .

Hand in hand, the cobblestone streets of Barcelona greet you both once more, only this time, everything had changed.

Minho comes to a pause right then, feeling the weight that he’d been shouldering for months finally lift from his shoulder now that he had you in his arms again.

“Do you remember this place?” he asked.

You looked around, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “This is where we danced that night.”

“Will you dance with me again?,” he poses, his chest  filled with fear and trepidation, but also hope.

You take a step back, sinking into a deep bow in front of him. Minho grins, catchind your hand to spin you back towards him. The world around you faded as you began to move together, time stopping for the both of you.

As he slowed, breathless and beaming, he feels you burrow into the crook of his neck., whispering against his skin.

“Am I distracting you Minho?”

Minho tilts his chin up to meet your gaze, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Yes, but I like it,” he breathes, closing the gap to crash his lips against yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too, Minho.”

The sun would rise again tomorrow. But this time, you’d be by his side.

a/n pt. 2: this reminds me of Collision!Minho a bit, they're like two sides of the same coin haha. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[castleofclouds]

ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏꜱ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Nct Dream Alternative Universe OT7.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ pairings ; ot7 × reader (yn)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ disclaimer ; fiction, cursing, 18+ content, kms joke and many more.

‧₊˚ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖‧₊˚ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪sumarry : your life was peaceful until your stupid friends start giving you ideas of making thread about ur exes, stirring a whole new problems for you, suddenly one by one of your past start running back to you and opening old books of you and them, how do you act in this situation?

genre : gotta be fluff! texts (sometimes smau) angsty, slowburn, romance, humor, mention of 18+ content.

tag : @bluedbliss

To All The Boys I've Dated.

“I'm sorry, can we back to being friends?”

Friends? With Mark? Your first boyfriend in high school? Seems impossible right? You couldn't believe your ears when those words come out of his mouth, like your heart just suddenly stop, every beat was louder than the first, this isn't how you portrayed a valentine day supposed to ended, holding your box of chocolate behind your back, his eyes looking at you seeking for answer, your tears get the hold of you, befriending a guy you wish to stars walk you down the aisle? You couldn't say anything at first, you became stone, you wish you could just erase today traumatic events of your life and send it to void.

“We can't be friends Mark, not after everything.”

Mark Lee > Box Of Chocolate.

“I'm tired of you always picking a fight with me.”

That day was rainy, stormy night yet the two of you instead of sharing a good laugh and have a nice drive to your destination, both of you, Renjun and you, only argue for the whole drive back home, arguing about who is better than the other, anger get the best of him as he start raising his voices just like you do, arguing was nothing knew in your relationship, it wasn't supposed to be, the first 3 months was a blessing, both of you were very understanding of each other, very loving and caring but now? where's the love you search dearly? you swear you see Renjun speeding accros the yellow light, just like how your heart start to slowly flicker losing its feelings.

“Same as me Renjun, I can't continue doing this.”

Huang Renjun > Yellow Light.

“I don't like how you act right now.”

Lately, Jeno touch had been different, it's not pleasing, neither it's fun as the both of you used to do, everything he do seemed force, like he wasn't even supposed to touch you at all, you didn't feel the love, the need, as he used to give you, no more aftercare, no more smile and kisses after sex, none, Jeno is right next to you on the bed, his body faced you yet his eyes were busy at anything else than you, you felt cold to his touch, even your warm blanket felt freezing cold, there's no warmth, no more joys, like it used to be, there's only lust swirling around your body, like it was some sort of machine to fuck only.

“I'm sorry, I won't do it Jeno. Let's stop.”

Lee Jeno > Freezing Blanket.

“This isn't how you supposed to know, I'm sorry.”

You were shaking, you couldn't help but wanting to throw up, you want to just hit him up but you can't. his eyes, that luminous eyes looking at you pleading for your heart to forgives, Haechan lied again. Even after he promised he wouldn't yet here you were, you can't believe he could lie this much even starts to cover a lie with another lie? he was supposed to be your escapes through winter, he is your sun that shined, yet he rained on you again? This time caught kissing someone else? You stand on your ground, the people on the cafe eyed you with pity as you left room.

“I can't tolerate your lie anymore Hyuck, i'm done.”

Lee Donghyuk > Sun In Rain.

“I'm sorry princess, but I can't do this anymore.”

You knew for Jaemin you weren't the only one occupying his heart, heaven knows who stayed there the longest, you knew, you wasn't a choice, but an option, someone he called when in miss, someone he missed dearly, yet where do you stayed when you missed him too? Your home was full, He was your home, however how can you stay in a house with two bedrooms? there's three people in here, too cramped. Even for you, you holds your phone close to your chest reading the chat message as you hit send.

“Fine, at least you finally admit it Jaemin, bye.”

Na Jaemin > House With Two Bedrooms.

“Sometimes things were better to let go. Baby..”

You were crying again, Chenle hold you close as he hugs you tight, like he would always do, you can't believe it, another relationship fell short, oddly, no fight, no argument, no lies, yet it still ended, the amount of drink get the best of you, Adios Mfer really messing your sight, he keeps reassuring you in his arms, telling how it wasn't your fault, both of you had your times, like almost will never be enough and times had ticked off, the club light so dim as you close your eyes, letting your feeling pour out, knowing tomorrow he isn't going to be here anymore, Chenle isn't yours anymore.

“I'm sorry Chenle, if only time were much kinder..”

Zhong Chenle > Adios M’fer

“I can't believe you did it, again? This hurts A lot.”

You failed him again. Another failed attempt to get Jisung forgiveness, he saw you with another man, like God just decided to mess with your life and make the man of your life standing not far behind you, in the quiet library where only books can talks, if he could scream, he would, but he keep quiet, you swear you see it, your body just goes limp, as his eyes were wet, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes became empty, is this the time where your chances of being happy with him gonna last? How can you continue your life without him, even your plea echo wasn't enough for him to change his minds.

“Jisung, I'm sorry for everything that I've done.”

Park Jisung > Talking Books.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈--ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄

Masterlist ; Back to Main?

From here! Profile 1 , 2 , 3 .

1.

2.

3.

Tba!!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈--ˋˏ✄┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄

A/N : I feel sick in my stomach from reading this, gosh I hate angst. Trust me. If there is any body who hates angst in this world it's me, I hated it, gosh I feel so sorry for Chenle tho, like how can I do my baby like that, and JISUNG?! I'm sorry baby, I love you, pretty sure gonna get killed making Jaemin into the bad guy and Haechan too? Gosh. Anybody would love to be in the tag?? Just comment your Usn gonna add them to the list later <3 p. s just to make sure I put 18+ I'm not sure if this story even will have those but let see. I can't write smut for shit. Btw finally a seriess!!

[howlingday]

Your post about Senukin lets me think about that one manga when she makes Rotten Petals. Jaune as Ngân, Weiss as Lan Hà, and Trà Ly as Elm. It’s about two childhood friends with each other and Ngân wants to confess to her, but always chatting about her new boyfriend. But in reality, Lan wants him to NTR her because she believes her mom that a man should confess a woman first, not the other way around. (Her mom definitely says that as a joke, but Lan always listens to her). Yup, she’s an idiot. But her hopes and dreams are crushed because Ngân confesses he has a girlfriend.

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Y'know, I wasn't sure how to do this series, even though I was interested. To be honest, I was mostly turned away by seeing the prologue (with some less than great voice acting) and not really digging with the plot. It seemed like too many characters for too much drama. Thankfully, there's this guy to provide decent voice acting without the prologue. Anyways, here's...

ROTTEN FLAKES

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Weiss: (On her scroll) My my~! You really miss me, huh~? (Giggles) Oh, grow up~!

This is Weiss Schnee. She's a girl from my childhood, and my best friend. She's living at my place but she spends all day flirting with her new boyfriend on her scroll...

Weiss: Okay, okay... I'll come over to your place and we can cuddle as long as you want~. Oh my goodness, you pervert~! Don't be so lewd~! My best friend is nearby~!

Every time I plan to confess my feelings to her, she has a new boyfriend...

Weiss: Yes, yes, I'll be back soon. Don't rush me! If you want me that bad, then love me more~!

My best friend, even though she came over to my place to hang out, has been flirting with her boyfriend for almost an hour now. If only she could understand how frustrated I am because of this!

This feeling I have inside... Like someone took something precious to me... I hate it... I can't stand it! I've been by her side for years! We did everything together! I should be her boyfriend!

Weiss: Hm? Jaune? What's the matter?

I love my best friend. And I won't let her be take away from me ever again! I... I'm sorry...

Weiss: Jaune? Why are you so quiet?

Jaune: You've left me no choice... (Unbuckles)

Weiss: (Thinking) NO WAY! Is he going to- He wouldn't, would he?!

Weiss: Jaune, don't do-

Jaune: (Lifts shirt) I... I've been going to the gym lately. What... What do you think of my abs?

Weiss: Oh my... So... So these are your "gains," right?

Jaune: (Thinking) I know you so well... We've known each other for so long, I learned what you're into! When we were kids, you used to drag me to the gym to ogle all those sweaty muscles...

Weiss: Looking at your body makes me miss my boyfriend all the more~!

Jaune: Huh?!

Jaune: ...

Weiss: You've grown up so much, Jaune. Who would have thought that scared, little boy playing knights would have become the man you are today? Any woman who becomes your girlfriend is beyond lucky, if you ask me. You're smart, charming, and always kind and caring to those around you. It's a shame, really. You're totally my type, and yet all I can do now is be jealous of whoever the lucky girl is that catches your eye...

Jaune: Hey... You said that looking at my body makes you think of your boyfriend. What does he look like?

Weiss: Oh~? You want to know, huh~? See, he looks a lot like you, doesn't he?

Jaune: Oh...

Jaune: How do we look similar? I just don't see it. Why are you going out with a guy so... weird? He looks like a total goof-off-

OH... RIGHT... I WAS THE EXACT SAME WAY TWO MONTHS AGO...

Jaune: ...

Weiss: HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH...

Flashback~ I still remember how we met, all those years ago...

Jaune: (Kid) Um... Is this yours? I found this by the lake. You can have it~!

Weiss: Ah...

A kind-hearted boy suddenly appeared before my eyes.

Weiss: Th-Thank you...

And the next thing I knew, I fell in love with the same man sitting with me right now.

My mother was a wonderful woman...

Willow: Weiss, a girl should never confess her feelings first. A girl who confesses first is impatient, desperate, and aggressive. A girl who confesses first believes she is not attractive enough to be picked. No girl should ever be in a position where she must await approval or face rejection. The one who offers the diamond ring should be the man. Never be the first to confess, Weiss.

Weiss: ...

Even back then, I always wanted to be just like my mother...

Weiss: Yes, mother...

Weiss: To protect my pride as a woman, I can't afford to tell Jaune how I really feel.

Anyways...

Weiss: I've done enough waiting! I need Jaune to confess to me NOW! I only tell him I have a boyfriend so he'll get jealous and confess FASTER!. WHEN WILL HE NTR ME?!

Yup. That's right. Our heroine of this story is a fucking hopeless loser idiot.

Jaune: Actually... Weiss... There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.

Weiss: Oh my! What's this? What's this tension I feel?! Is it finally happening~?!.

Jaune: I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but now... Now seems like the right time to tell you more than ever!

Weiss: (Shaking) There's no doubt about it! He's finally confessing to me after all of these years!.

Weiss: Jaune, I-I...

Weiss: Calm yourself, Weiss.

Weiss: (Sips tea) Hmph! Easy game~.

Jaune: I have a girlfriend now...

Weiss: SPPPFFFTTT!

Weiss: A... A girlfriend?! Why, who doesn't have a girlfriend?! Am I not your girlfriend, or at least your friend who is a girl? I am a girl, after all!

FUCK! WHY NOW?!

Jaune: Oh, sorry. I should clarify. When I say "girlfriend," I mean my LOVER.

LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?! LOVER?!

Weiss: HUH?!

As soon as the word "LOVER" was heard, Weiss was instantly on the defense!

Jaune: Um... Weiss?

In the five stages of grief acceptance, according to experts, humans go through an emotional process to come to terms with their experience of loss.

Weiss: LOVER? What is that? Is it served hot or cold?

STAGE ONE: DENIAL

Weiss: Wait one moment! Is Jaune really telling the truth? He could be lying, just like me. All talk with no evidence to back himself up.

Jaune: ?

The heroine of our story has revealed herself. And if that's the case, I'll make Jaune tell me everything!

[squinch-depraved]

thinking a lot about charlie lately

you hated that you had to leave your boyfriend for even a few minutes, but an indefinite work trip? he was going to fall apart without you here to keep him glued together. you were the thing that kept him whole, kept him going. he was so used to following you around like a lost puppy, what was he going to do without you here?

and not to even mention how horny he was for you nearly 24/7- you were constantly on his mind; the promise of being able to bury his face into your chest after finishing a long project was sometimes the only thing that spurred him to complete his tasks. you adored him, cherished how sweet he was and how seemingly addicted he was to you. it was one of your favorite things about him, how absolutely whipped he was for you. you tried not to let it go to your head too often.

but here he was, sat on the couch, waiting patiently for you to get home from your long day. he knew you would have to leave for your trip soon and was eager to spend any time with you that he could before you were gone until further notice. his face lit up when your keys jangled in the lock, you cursed under your breath as you struggled to open it and let out a deep sigh when you finally got the door open. a smile crossed your lips as you took in the sight of your boyfriend sitting there, and you admired what a good boy he was for you while you locked the door behind you.

"what's that?" he asked inquisitively, gesturing to the package under your arm. "i didn't think i heard anything get delivered," he said, apologetic.

"it's something i picked out for you to help you while i'm gone," you replied. "don't feel bad, i had this delivered to a friend's house so you wouldn't see it." the box was plain, just a brown cardboard container with a regular shipping label.

he nodded and shifted on the couch, adjusting his position to be more comfortable. a movie was playing on the tv, something you two had watched a few weeks ago that you figured he had put on because he missed you.

"lemme get changed and you can open your present, okay?" you set the box down next to him and kissed the top of his head, taking off your bag and placing it on the coffee table. he watched, enthralled, as you kicked your shoes off and peeled off your jacket, eyes following you until you were out of sight as you walked to your shared bedroom.

you came back a few minutes later, now dressed comfortably in one of his shirts. he swore you walked around like this (no pants, just a shirt and your underwear) just to tease him, and he drew in a sharp breath at the sight. he never could get used to how you made him feel; just the sight of you like this was enough to make his stomach do flips.

you plopped down next to him, grabbing the box and using your nails to cut through the tape sealing it closed. once it was open, you handed it to charlie and watched him reach in. he pulled out a smaller box and froze, reading the text on the outside before looking up at you, face burning.

"you got me a fleshlight?" he asked quietly.

you giggled and took the bigger, empty box from him, clearing away the trash. "so you have something while i'm gone," you smiled sweetly. "i know how you get when you have to go too long without me, baby, so i thought maybe this would help." you stroked his cheek softly, doing your best to ignore how hot his face felt.

"i can't... i'm, um," he stuttered.

"yes, you can, charlie, you're gonna have to while i'm not here. i'm giving it to you tonight so we can practice together and you won't feel as shy using it by yourself, but if you don't wanna be good for me..."

that seemed to snap him out of his stupor, and he shook his head vigorously while he spoke. "nonono, i'll be good for you," he promised. "i'll be so good." his voice was whiny and pathetic, just the way you always liked it.

"good," you cooed, ruffling his hair. "now open your toy and take your pants off."

he swallowed hard and obeyed, sliding his shorts off first before fiddling with the box.

"boxers, too, my sweet boy." you put your hand on his thigh and tugged slightly on his underwear. he took a shaky breath and did as you said, hissing softly when you took him in your hand. you pumped him up and down gently as he struggled to open his new toy, pulling away when he finally got it out of the box.

you made eye contact for a moment before leaning over and taking him all the way in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip and coating his whole length in your saliva. when you pulled your mouth off, he whimpered at the pop! sound.

you took the toy from his hand, lining it up on his shaft and turning to watch his face as you slid it onto him. it glided on with ease; he was so lubed up from your spit. he screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back, letting out a long moan at the contact. it wasn't as good as you, sure, he knew it wouldn't be, but it was a lot more pleasurable than he thought it was going to be.

you began dragging it up and down his shaft, working at a good pace. charlie's noises got more and more pitiful, and you shifted so you could kiss up and down his chest, neck, stomach- anywhere you could get your lips on, it was being kissed. you took his hand and guided it to his groin, and he swiftly took over for you, stroking himself rapidly while you tangled your fingers in his hair.

he looked beautiful like that, eyes shut tight, head tilted slightly back, face red from pleasure. you wished you could take a photo of him, you knew he wouldn't mind, but you had left your phone somewhere and hated yourself for not keeping it on you. oh well, the mental image of this would have to do on your trip until you asked him to send you videos.

after minutes of charlie moaning and panting, he started bucking his hips up into the toy, a sign he was getting close. you moved off him and positioned yourself between his legs, tapping his hand to signal him to stop. he peeked open his eyes and pulled the toy off, groaning deeply when you replaced it with your mouth. you worked masterfully on him, drawing unholy sounds from the man as he approached his high.

he grabbed your hair when he was about to cum, babbling your praises as he forced your head down slightly. you moaned when you felt him shoot his seed down your throat, swallowing with him still in your mouth and earning one last moan.

watching you through lidded eyes when you pulled off, charlie panted, trying for minutes to catch his breath. he finally spoke after taking a long drink from the water bottle you handed him.

"do you really have to go?"

you rolled your eyes and smiled, smacking him playfully. "i'll be back before you know it, my love."

[kyokutsu-sama]

Flashy night II

Rengoku x f!reader

A/n: As I said, I wrote part 2 where it's about Rengoku's pov from the previous fic. I hope you like it ❤️‍🔥

Tw: Slightly suggestive

••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••

Rengoku had gone out that night to go to one of the festivals in the entertainment district that his friend Tengen used to visit and that day he decided to invite his great friend and he agreed.

They both had a great time throughout the festival. There were a lot of people, a lot of food that made Rengoku's eyes shine when he saw the full plates. He ate and even had seconds two or three times. He and Tengen not only ate a lot but also drank (even after they had said before entering the festival that they would not overdo it with alcohol).

They danced like crazy and laughed, some people joined them to have fun too but there were also dirty looks at the two after seeing them behaving like children.

After all that excitement, Rengoku sat down for a while on one of the benches that was there, trying to recover for a moment while he still saw his friend having fun even alone. Rengoku looked at his watch and it was already late, he needed to go back home so as not to let you worry or thinking that some demon had appeared to defeat halfway.

He stood up and walked into the crowd to meet his friend.

"Tengen, I think we should go home. It's late and your wives must be waiting for you. I don't want to worry Y/n either." Rengoku shouted to the other Hashira, but he still seemed oblivious

"Yeah, I know, they love me." Tengen said, holding the glass of drink and dancing

"Tengen, seriously. If we don't go back, you'll end up sleeping on the couch and so will I." Rengoku joked

"No, my beautiful wives would never do that. Besides, Y/n loves you too, she wouldn't do that. Let's have fun, the night has just started." Tengen insisted

"What do you mean? It's almost three in the morning. We must go, I think we've had enough today, and on top of that, we drank too much too. I don't even remember where the exit is."

"Neither do I. I guess we have to find one then."

Rengoku and Tengen leaned on each other as they looked for the exit of the festival. They staggered and laughed like crazy, still remembering the funny events at the festival.

Rengoku accompanied Tengen to his house and said goodbye to him.

"Come on, why don't you come in and stay a while? You're welcome, you know?" Tengen wanted to invite his friend into his house, but he refused

"I would gladly accept, but I have to go home now too. Next time."

"Well, in that case, have a good night, my great buddie Rengoku!" Tengen said goodbye and closed the door

Rengoku stood for a moment in front of his friend's house and sighed.

"What a crazy and long night...Y/n is going to kill me after seeing me come home drunk." Rengoku laughed to himself at the thought

You were sitting in the living room, waiting for your husband to come home. He had gone out with his great friend to have fun, but it was so late that you started to worry. A short while later, you heard the front door open and then a noise coming from there and then you got up to go check.

When you got there, you came across Rengoku lying on the floor and laughing at his own fall. You noticed right there his drunken condition.

"Ouch! I think I break my back..."Rengoku groaned, feeling some pain in his back after the fall. "Y/n? Is that you there?" He asked, looking up to find you

"Who was supposed to be?"You replied, crossing your arms

"My love, did you wait for me? I'm sorry I got home so late. I was careless with the time and I still had to take Tengen to his house." Rengoku justified himself as he stood up from still staggering

He looked so majestic at that moment. His yellow hair was messy and his cheeks were flushed, his eyes, which were usually always wide open, now seemed more half-closed but still shone. His kimono was completely open and exposing his chest and abs.

You wondered for a moment if you were really sleepy...

"I missed you so much, you know? Come here, my lovely, beautiful, wonderful and sweet wife." He pulled you towards him and hugged you as he gave you countless kisses all over your face and neck. You squirmed in his arms at the sudden movement and at his lips moving all over your face.

"Kyo, stop. That's enough kisses." You tried to pull away but he seemed so stubborn

"It's never enough for me."

"Yes it is." You tried to pull away from him once more

"Just one more here." Hashira planted the last kiss on your forehead before hug you and stand there for a moment

You sighed at your failed attempts to push him away, but now seeing how quiet he seemed, you thought he had fallen asleep standing up.

At least that's what you thought...

"Kyo? Did you fall sleep huggig me?" You asked, unable to hide a little smile

"It would be a pleasure for me, but first I must apologize for being late." He said, pulling away a little to look into your eyes, and you looked at him, intrigued by what he meant

"Apologize for being late? But you already did that."

"But I wanted to do it another way. I don't think words were enough to apologize."He said as he looked into your eyes with a suggestive smile and you could tell what he meant right there.

"Kyojuro Rengoku, not tonight. We can leave it for another day, but not now. You drank too much and I want to sleep."You said, looking away, feeling your cheeks slightly flushed

"Just a little, my lovely, beautiful, dear and wonderful wife." He insisted, whispering in your ear, and you rolled your eyes at the absurd amount of compliments he was giving

"You really like giving compliments, don't you?"

"For you, always." He said, kissing your neck and running his hands around your waist on either side, but you held them and he looked at you

"Kyo, If you don't stop, I'll put you to sleep on the couch... Is that what you want?" You threatened, even though you knew you didn't have the courage to do it

"I'm sorry."He immediately stopped and looked down

You couldn't help but find his expression cute at that moment. You wanted to give him that chance tonight, but you also wanted to wait until he was sober.

Even though you were married, you always respected his space as he also never laid a finger on you when you were drunk.

"Come on, I'm not going to put you on the couch," you said, caressing his cheek, and he looked at you with his usual radiant and wide-open eyes."You come with me."

"Seriously?! You scared me just now."

"Come on, let's go to the bed."

Arriving in the bedroom, he took off his clothes and lay on top of you with his head resting on your chest.

"Are you going to sleep there tonight?" You asked and he nodded

"It's the place I want to be the most and besides, being here is cozy and comfortable." He said, snuggling up to you and hugging your body as if it were his pillow. "It's not like the couch in the living room where you wanted to put me to sleep." Rengoku reminded you and you chuckled

"I would never put you on the couch alone." You said, stroking his yellow hair

"But you threatened me earlier."

"Because you were being stubborn and weren't listening to me."

"I was just kissing and hugging you, that's all!"

"Kissing and hugging me?"

"Yeah, why? Is it wrong to give some love to my dear wife?"He asked, putting a kiss one of your hands

"No, it's not but you get unbearably clingy when you're drunk." You said with a giggle

"No, I don't!" He chuckled

"Yes, you do."

"Come here." He leaned in a little and placed a few more kisses on the curve of your neck, on your cheek and finally placed a peck on your lips. You could see his red and yellow eyes shine like flames, which emphasized his title

"I love you." He said smiling at you and nuzzling into the curve of your neck

You smiled and after turning off the light, you kissed the top of his head and ran your fingers through his disheveled hair a few times as you watched him fall asleep in your arms.

"I love you too." You whispered

[starillusion13]

FRIENDS!? Chapter 20

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Series ML

Pairing: poly!ateez × f!reader (An ATEEZ Office AU)

Genre: Mature, Angst, Yandere

Warning: mention of memories (nothing much just go with the flow).

W.C: 4.2k Network: @k-vanity

[Reblogs and Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading and have a nice day ahead. Please always take care of yourself everyone.]

Hello, Can we be friends please?

>.<

"why are we here?"

You looked back at Jongho, who was busy taking off his blazer, placing it on the bench and adjusting all your stuff together so that nothing goes missing.

"isn't it obvious, we are at a basketball ground." He said and unbuttoned the sleeves of his white polo shirt and proceeded to folding it. then he glanced over at you, staring at him for more explanation, not clearly getting the point of being at the place.

When he rolled his eyes, you glared at him, "I thought we were here on a business meeting but it ended in the morning and now we are here in the ground. Care to explain?" his eyes trailed on your white flared skirt, ending just below the knee and a light pink top, fitting your body perfectly.

"let's play." He smiled at you cheekily.

The young Jongho flashed across your eyes. The same gummy smile but with a mature and refreshed look. Your favorite smile which you wanted to watch everyday in your way back to the orphanage.

And this made you miss Mrs. Stella so much. Where is she?

The night was alive with a quiet, peaceful stillness as you both made your way to the center of the basketball court. It was late—so late that the usual sounds of the city had faded, leaving only the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional rustling of trees in the cool breeze. The empty court sat under the soft glow of streetlights, the pavement shining faintly under their feet as they stepped onto it.

You looked around, feeling slightly out of place. "So, this is what we're doing tonight?" You asked, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness. You had never really played basketball before—just watched from the sidelines or seen others play on like him and Yunho and sometimes others when they joined in the game. The ball felt a little foreign in your hands, heavier than you expected, and the hoop seemed impossibly far away.

Jongho flashed you an easy smile, walking ahead and grabbing the basketball from your hands, giving it a few bounces on the pavement. "Trust me," he said with a grin. "It'll be fun. You'll learn in no time."

You let out a skeptical laugh, crossing your arms. "I don't know, I'm pretty hopeless when it comes to sports. I'm also wondering where did you get the ball."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You say that now, but just wait. I'm a good teacher. The waiter I was talking to in the afternoon...he is a trainee in an academy so well he lent me." He dribbled the ball effortlessly, the rhythmic sound of it hitting the ground filling the quiet night air.

You stood at the free-throw line, biting your lip as he tossed the ball back to you. You caught it awkwardly, fumbling slightly before getting a grip. "Okay, so what do I do?"

Jongho walked over to your side, standing close enough that you could feel his presence but not so close that it felt overwhelming. "First thing's first," he said, gently placing his hands on your shoulders to adjust your stance. "Feet shoulder-width apart. You want to be balanced."

you shifted your feet, mimicking his instructions, though it still felt awkward. you held the ball out in front of you, your elbows sticking out too far, and you glanced at him with a hesitant smile. "Like this?"

"Almost," he said, stepping closer and lightly adjusting your arms, bringing your elbows in and showing you how to hold the ball properly. His touch was gentle but firm, and you could feel the warmth of his hand as he guided you. "See? Now you've got control."

The spark inside you was undeniable as if the night felt colder and silent. His presence so close to you never held such tension between you two but tonight it was rising a new feeling, you subtly caught his eyes, the gleam of excitement and happiness in the orbs, he was always this friendly and acted like a child. He actually never grew up. He is still your little teddy bear, whom you befriended back then. Your gummy bear.

You gave him a doubtful look but nodded. "Alright, I think I got it. Now what?"

"Now," he said, stepping back with a smile, "you shoot. Keep your eyes on the hoop, and when you release the ball, just let it roll off your fingertips. It's not about how hard you throw—it's about the technique."

you swallowed, focusing on the hoop as you tried to follow his instructions. It seemed so far away, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were about to make a fool of yourself. But you took a deep breath and threw the ball, watching it soar through the air—completely missing the hoop and bouncing off the backboard with a loud thud.

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "Oh my God. I'm terrible."

Jongho laughed, walking over to pick up the ball. "That wasn't terrible! You've got the right idea. It just takes practice."

"Yeah, practice and maybe a miracle," you muttered, your face still flushed with embarrassment.

He tossed the ball back to you, this time with a more encouraging smile. "Come on, you've got this. You're overthinking it. Just relax and have fun with it."

you looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his expression, and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know what I'm thinking...."

"y/n..."

You cut him off, "Alright, one more try." you took a deep breath, adjusted your stance again, and shot the ball. This time, it hit the rim, bouncing off but much closer than before.

your eyes widened, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. "Did you see that? It almost went in!"

He clapped his hands together, nodding with approval. "Now you're getting it! See, you're not hopeless after all."

you grinned, feeling a small surge of confidence. Maybe you weren't as bad as you thought. And maybe, you could just know a little bit more today what was the situation between you two back then. You continued practicing, with him giving your tips and encouragement between shots. Slowly but surely, you began to get the hang of it, your movements becoming more fluid and natural.

After several more tries, you finally made a basket. The ball swished through the net with a satisfying sound, and you threw her hands up in the air, cheering for herself. "Yes! I did it!"

He laughed, walking over and giving you a playful high-five. "There you go! Told you it wasn't so hard."

you beamed, face flushed with excitement. "Okay, I'll admit, this is kind of fun."

They kept going, shooting around and playing a few simple one-on-one games, though he went easy on you, mostly just showing your different moves and how to dribble. you stumbled a few times, tripping over your own feet as you tried to keep control of the ball, but every time, he was there with a laugh and an encouraging word.

you caught the ball, a smile tugging at your lips despite your frustration. "You really think so?"

Jongho nodded, his expression softening. "Definitely. You're picking it up faster than you realize."

you looked at him for a moment, your heart swelling with a warmth you couldn't quite explain. He made everything seem easier, lighter—like it didn't matter if you messed up because you were just having fun. "Thanks for teaching me," you said quietly, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. "I guess I'm actually enjoying myself."

He smiled, that same warm look in his eyes. "I'm glad. I knew you'd get the hang of it." There was a pause, the air between them feeling different now, softer somehow. "It's more fun when you're not so focused on getting it right all the time."

She chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"how are you, y/n?" he asked quietly, just staring at you straight with a heart full of weary and questions and honestly, he wanted to bubble wrap them all, just so he could keep you with him and protect you from your nightmares.

You might not know but the first day he caught you crying in your sleep in your cabin, he felt those sharp pain all again after meeting you after years. He couldn't see the lost eyes and a scared face looking back at him when you jolt woken up by him. even though he asked you the reason to be like that, deep down he knew the reason. He knew more than you could have visioned. He knew the exact scenary. He knew the cause of it. he knew that he was also a part of it.

You blinked at him, tilting your head, "what do you mean, Jongho?" you cracked a soft smile, "how will I be?"

"are you fine with us? Anything making you uncomfortable? You know you can vent to me anytime. I promise I'll always be waiting for you." He stepped closer, holding your hands in his, staring at them for a moment before meeting your eyes. "I just want a better life for you, where you are genuinely happy."

You held the eye contact, he is the only one with whom you can hold gazes for a long time, without feeling otherwise or shying away. He is that of a comfort zone to you, whom you are scared to lose if something happens between you and them.

You were in relationship with all of them.

Then why did Mingi said he never proposed to you?

Oh...you don't even remember anyone's confession other than Yunho. But others, Wooyoung gave you his words that he would love you more than you could remember your past. Is that even possible? Will you remember them all? Seonghwa already stepped up with his date and you accepted him at the exact place because you felt the need to stay with him. Hongjoong is always keeping a watch on you...as if he is scared that a miss of blink of an eye, you will be gone or something might occur for which he can't forgive himself or ... it would pull you away from him.

Yunho...you need a lot more explanation from him.

Mingi, he was honest with you. Since the first day, you got to know everything from him. the trust you build on them was majorly because of him. he was always explaining you and encouraging you to not be scared of the things which are out of hand because he would hold your hand and guide you through all the darkness of your life. Just like the night you two confessed to each other and kissed.

And, Yeosang...even if you two are close but since the first day you have that itchy feeling with his duality. Is he hiding something that's crucial for you to know? If so...then why?

Lastly, San. He did tell you to give him a chance. Right? You felt secure in his embrace that day. He held you so dearly and softly, feeling secure and comfort and you did fell asleep with a content smile on your face.

"I am happy, Jongho...thanks to all of you to bring back an essence to my life." You smiled at him.

A smile cracked on his face, "why? Were you not happy?"

"uh no...it was literally boring because there was no such things where I would meet my long lost friends who all are apparently my lovers and they waited for me for so long and then arranged a place for me in their office. And now I have everything, ever wanted."

His one hand left yours and quickly, he pressed the palm on your cheek, his eyes scanning your face but there was a flick of sadness in his eyes, "you will stay with me forever. I promise...I'll keep you happy and shield you from all negativity...but y/n..." his thumb caressed your cheek in a feather touch, "we were not couple back then...I never really proposed you...we were really close friends but never like...lovers."

"then why am I remembering that..."

"you were as in together with all of us." He completed your sentence, nodding to himself. "I know...let me be honest with you. There's a lot you don't know but I won't tell you just now. I want you to remember everything and only then I can say and reason with you regarding everything."

"I believe you the most, Jongho. Some of you never made me be sceptical of anything and I do really appreciate it so much. Just don't break my trust ever." You looked up at him, your eyes were shining softly same as the way your smile.

"thank you, y/n. I just want us to be friends forever. Even if I want something more but I wouldn't step forward without your consent." He hugged your body tightly, his chin resting on top of your head and you patted his back tenderly, whispering 'it's okay'. "I am just afraid to lose you from my sight."

"then I'm giving you my consent...go ahead and lock me up in your embrace. Don't let me go, Jongho." You said quietly. Hearing your words, he quickly pulled back slightly to take a look of your face and as soon as you nodded, he dipped his head down, locking his lips with yours just to pull you closer to him. his dream and his passion in one place. He loved playing basketball and he loved you. There was a faint smile into the kiss from both of you. You both noticed each other every day at the ground, just oblivion to each other and after so many years, he is here kissing you at the basketball ground.

"I love you, y/n."

You waited before replying. Your foreheads resting against each other, breathing heavily when you stared into his eyes. There was sincerity and the love for you. He will protect you. They will do as well. They want you. You should hold their hands as well when they are extending it to you. If they did wrong, you should forgive them. You will let them know their fault and in the end, you will stay by their side.

Aren't this what like a friendship?

Maybe a true love.

"I love you too, Jongho."

Just don't leave us again...

They sat there a little while longer, side by side under the stars, the court all to themselves, the night stretching out before them like a secret they were both in on. The game didn't matter anymore; it was just the two of them, lost in the quiet magic of the night, sharing a moment that felt infinite.

>>>><<<<

"Yeosang, we need to talk." Placing the file on his table, you gave him a pointed look. Without asking any questions, he subtly nodded his head and got back to his computer screen.

You waited beside the shelf, tapping your feet till he completed his work because you were determined to talk with him for the matter that was keeping him distant and quiet. No. You are not letting him go away without hearing him. He is always the one who will change his personality according to his mood and if it's something like that then you should really hear him out.

While you were staring at him, Wooyoung entered the door in a very enthusiastic voice, "ah, cupcake. You are here. Let's go to my cabin if you are done with him."

He caught your wrist, but you halted his actions when you held his hand and shook your head, "No...Woo...listen I'm just busy right now and..." glancing at Yeosang, you smiled at Wooyoung, "but I'll be there soon...after lunch...how about that?"

"But you don't seem busy." He raised a brow, "you are just standing here and straight up staring at that weirdo."

"Wooyoung..." you gave him a look to shut up and noticed Yeosang's glare directed at him. You shook your head before pulling the younger one out of the cabin, closing the door behind you two.

"What's up with you? Why are you acting like this?" You crossed your arms after asking the questions to Wooyoung who just rolled his eyes.

"You always stay with him alone most of the times and i hate it sometimes."

"You know he doesn't open up to us often and if he does it's only when we are alone and there's something I want to talk to him about." You said.

He nodded, registering your words, "okay but remember our tomorrow plan should be as planned. No deny and failure."

"Of course, woo. Afterall, im looking forward to your little surprise." You wiggled your brows at him.

"It's a big one. Not a little."

"Of course." You laughed at him.

"And what surprise are we talking about here?" Yunho joined in the conversation. He was passing through the corridor where you both were standing and when you took a notice of him, you smiled at him and quickly accepted the open arms directed to you.

His love and warmth are so precious and memorable. As if all these years you missed it so much.

"That's a secret for her from me." Wooyoung said to Yunho while a faint smile dancing on his lips to see you so comfortable in his friend's arms.

Yunho nodded before looking down at you, rubbing your back when he felt you relaxing in his arms but quickly a smirk appeared on his face mirroring the one on Wooyoung.

"wooyoung, isn't our girl looking too pretty today?" Yunho asked the younger boy and you slowly parted from him to furrow your brows at both of them. Not knowing from where this compliment suddenly came from.

The younger one tilted his head and poked his inner cheek with the tongue, "yeah...too pretty to be left alone."

"What are you two saying?" You furrowed your brows and looking between them. You stepped back from Yunho to read his expression. There's something going on.

Yunho stepped forwards hen you took a step back but when this repeated again, your back hit a girl chest and soon two arms caged you in between, the man in front of you folded his hands and smirked, bending down to your level.

"Come on. Why are you so pretty and attracting us so much in office hours. You are becoming a regular distraction for us. You know it's hard to work when you are roaming around." He said.

You could hear the chuckles of Wooyoung from behind you, he placed a kiss to your cheek, surprising you and suddenly, Yunho placed a finger below your chin to lift your face to meet his eyes.

"Do you agree with what I'm saying? Say it, Pearl." He whispered the words, his breath fanning your lips.

Gulping down the sudden intense heat in your throat, Wooyoung's nose nuzzling in your neck when you spoke up, "it's not true. You are just trying to put the blame on me."

"Is it?" Yunho's whisper and his breath tingling on your lips, you closed your eyes in anticipation. Wooyoung placed a soft kiss just below your earlobe. Your breath heaved and you felt lips pressed on yours.

Wooyoung whispered in your ear, "so you are saying that we are telling lie. Y/n..." he chuckled in your ear, "you are just the same...the one I wanted and the one I still want. Either ways you are mine."

Yunho pecked your lips and cheeks before standing straight, "ours."

"We should not do here...uhm...anyone can come." You said between your shaky breaths.

Wooyoung detached himself from you and turned you around, Yunho stepped closer, stroking your head and both of them looking at you, "why? You want us to continue in our cabin...or maybe in our floor."

Yunho nodded at his friend's words and smirked at you. You hit Wooyoung's chest and glared at both of them, "shut up."

"I suppose you two have meeting in half an hour." Hongjoong's voice bloomed in the corridor from a distance and three of your heads whipped to the direction. You mentally thanked that it's only him and no other staff or employees. There would be more gossips than already exist. You smiled at him when he started walking toward me you, wiggling in Wooyoung's hold, but he didn't budge and told you stay put.

"Hey, Joong...here?" You asked him when he patted your head with a comforting smile.

"Just to check for a file I kept in Mingi's cabin. But I guess here something else is going on." He said and eyed the three of you.

"Why? Want to join?" Wooyoung raised a brow and smirked.

You hoped Hongjoong to scold him or to say something, even Yunho when he supported his friend but to your surprise, Hongjoong smirked and stared at you, locking eyes when he spoke up, "no need. I can have her to myself alone. We spend more time than you two."

Yunho chuckled, "really, y/n?"

They are going to kill you like this. You are so embarrassed. You pushed Wooyoung from you and glared at three of them, "I'll be with Yeosang for now. Maybe the whole day so none of you should dare to come into this cabin or wherever we will be."

With that you ran inside the cabin and closed the door, leaving behind three men laughing at your flustered state.

Aren't the days going well? The type of life they wanted and the things they wished to be, other than those cursed ones.

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