#I’m excited to watch Transformers One tomorrow

[qkmlh]

As someone who grew up around Transformers secondhand and knows good nuggets of the various lore and characters by proxy, it’s incredibly funny to me that my top 3 faves are pretty basic but on opposite ends. Bumblebee, Shockwave, & Soundwave. Put them in a situation together and godspeed

[lex-the-flex]

Soured Whiskey

Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Your one night stand with a handsome stranger at the bar leads to a different endeavor.

Word Count: 2k

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, brief cursing, small moments of action and violence, brief drinking, Logan being protective, MEGA FLUFF, SMUT 18+ – Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), oral (f! receiving), fingering, skin + body appreciation, Logan being a gentleman and the reader being lovely. (Basically distant soulmates).

A/N: I'm officially seeing Deadpool and Wolverine tomorrow and I'm so excited! But in the meantime, I thought I'd add to the pile of Wolverine smut.

Strings of ornately hung light bulbs decorate the bar, bringing a cozy old-school vibe to the modernized saloon. Closing the door behind you, the cold city atmosphere was instantly transformed into a quaint and warm invitation. You’re friends couldn’t stop raving about this new bar and that you all just had to go here and try the endless menu of cocktails and tapas. 

So through your busy work week, your friends informed you to meet at the bar on Friday once the sun started to go down. But much to your dismay, your friends bailed on you, even after repaying that they’d be there for you and help you unwind, to de-stress.

You got stood up. By your own good friends who you thought had your back. 

Sighing to yourself, it was too late to give up now. You were already here, so you might as well order a drink. 

Sitting at the bar, you sat up straight on the stool, not paying attention to who was sitting next to you. It didn’t matter. Patiently waiting for the bartender, the sight of someone sitting next to you crosses your peripheral vision. The man’s muscular arms lean against the counter, reaching for a couple of fresh cashews. 

“Hey there, what can I get you?” The bartender asks. 

“Just a whiskey sour, please.” You reply. 

“Got it, and same for you, sir?” He questions, pushing a singular whiskey glass to the person to your right. 

“Yeah, thanks.” The stranger replies. 

The stranger’s gruff voice takes you by surprise, but you pay him no mind. 

Rolling the coaster in between his fingers, the bartender places your bright whiskey sour in front of you. The refreshing yellow foamy drink is adorned with a lemon swirl and a dried cherry for garnish. Just the sight of it makes a well-deserved smile rise through your lips. Taking a sip of the cold drink, the bartender turns to the back wall with the more expensive bottles of liquor, and passes it to the stranger on your right. 

Getting a glimpse his way, the man finally comes into view. His masculine features take over your attention; the man’s full dark head of hair, beard, and strong jaw seem to put you in a hypnotic state. Glancing towards you, his light hazel eyes gaze into your e/c orbs, providing a somewhat welcoming gaze, however his stern and annoyed expression makes you turn away. 

Returning to your drink, the stranger lowers his arm next to yours, letting you see a freshly lit cigar in his hand. Blowing the smoke away from you, he silently watches you take another swig of your drink before checking the empty text message bubble once again. 

“Rough day?” He asks. 

Sighing into your hands, you jokingly squint your eyes at the stranger, and set your phone down.

“You have no idea. I‘be been craving this damn drink all day.” You reply.

Running your index finger around the rim of the almost empty glass. Smirking, the stranger raises his glass towards yours. 

“Name’s Logan.” He says. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you Logan.” You answer, clinking your glass with his. 

Finishing your drinks and dinner in a comfortable silence, Logan silently watches you, observing some of your mannerisms that stand out to him. The way you sit perfectly straight, how you wipe your mouth after every bite, and even the outfit you picked for yourself. Your light grey cardigan sits perfectly on your shoulders along with the casual white button-up shirt that was underneath it. The pair of black dress pants and ankle boots make you look professional yet comfortable and he liked that. 

However, this minuscule moment of peace didn’t last long. The scent of strong liquor and the hint of douchebag lingers in the air behind you and Logan. Taking another puff of his cigar, Logan glances your way, warning you to not pay these drunken idiots any attention. 

Polishing off the remainder of your drink, Logan waves for the bartender, and prepares to take your tab. 

“I got it, Logan. Don’t worry about me.” You advise. 

Placing his hand over yours, Logan stops you from using your debit card, motioning to the three men behind you. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about, darlin’.” He warns. 

“You shouldn’t worry about her, man. We can take care of her. We’ll take her off your hands.” One of the drunk men sneers. 

“No thanks, boys. I’m happy where I stand.” You state, looking at Logan, rubbing your fingers over his knuckles. 

Joining you and Logan, the bartender slams his hands on the counter. 

“I told the three of you that you’re not allowed in here! Get out before there’s trouble.” He orders.

“Or what, man? What will you do? We’ve been coming here since… this place opened.” The idiot spurs, stuttering to give a clear answer. 

Blowing off his friends, the young man stumbles to your left side, slipping on the way to nonchalantly lean on the bar, still desperate to impress you. Ignoring him, Logan watches the other two men leave the bar altogether, clearly done with their friend’s shit. 

“Lemme take you out and show you a good time, beautiful. Surely I can do better than the guy on your right. I know I can fuck you better than him.” He explains. 

Not noticing that he’s crossed your personal space line, you instinctively back up into Logan, who’s nearly at his breaking point. 

“Look, bub. She said no. So, take the hint and get the hell out of here. She’s with me.” Logan rebuttals, just as a wave of rage overtakes his voice. 

The sudden sense of feeling claustrophobic creeps out on every single inch of your skin. Glancing down at your hands, you discover that you’re now white-knuckling the edge of the wooden countertop, and Logan begins to ball his fist around his whiskey glass. 

Leaning closer to you, the young man tries once again, and fully crosses the line. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me treat you better.” He whispers next to your face. 

Suddenly, you see red. The stranger’s hand touches your mid thigh and you merely fly back on the barstool. 

“Get the fuck off me!” You shout, pushing the man away. 

Within seconds, Logan pushes himself from his own seat, and grabs the young man by his hoodie. Punching the man in the face, he falls to the floor with a streak of blood leaking out of his nose. Wiping his nose, the bartender manages to pull Logan away, before returning to tend to the young man. Tugging Logan closer, he subconsciously wraps his arms around your frame, making sure that you’re out of harm's way. 

“You alright?” He asks in a low whisper.

Silently nodding, the two of you refuse to move, and your hand is still lingering on his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You answer.

*****

Within seconds of shutting your front door behind you, Logan was on you. Deepening the kiss between you both, you could tell that he wanted more. Pushing you against the door, a growl escapes from Logan as he picks you up and walks into the kitchen. Placing you on the marble countertop, his hands work quickly to rid you of the cardigan on your shoulders.

Gliding his lips down to your neck, you wrap your legs around Logan’s waist. Feeling a small moan escape from your lips, you swore that he might fuck you on the cold countertop. But he wasn’t that rebellious. Tearing his own jacket off, Logan carefully carries you through the apartment and down the hallway to your bedroom.

Sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he momentarily breaks the space between you and lifts your shirt from your body. Tossing it across the room, Logan bends down and takes your face in his hands.

“You sure you want this, darlin’? I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.” Logan advises, gently stroking your cheek.

“I’m sure. I want this with you. And only you.” You consent with a nod. 

Silently nodding, Logan slowly leans in and pulls you in passionately. His kiss is slow and steady, allowing him to relax at this moment. Feeling his heart swell, Logan couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted him in the way that you do.

Discarding the remainder of both of your clothes, you lay down on the comforter, melting into the soft fabric and Logan follows suit. Gripping his broad shoulders, your fingers press into his hot skin as his lips lock onto yours. Trailing his hand down your bare body, Logan’s fingers reach beneath the waistband of your lacy underwear and press against your clit.

Meeting your throbbing folds with his fingertips, you break the kiss and moan into his mouth. Staring into his hazel eyes, his orbs light up, fueling the sensation of your lust. Rubbing circles into your clit, Logan descends your body with a series of longing kisses to each part he passes.

Discarding the fabric from your core, Logan kisses the sensitive skin of each of your thighs, feeling you shake before him. His scruff makes you chuckle as he can hear your heartbeat ringing in his ears. Licking your folds, your breath hitches in the back of your throat as you watch Logan become more and more mesmerized by you.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” He whispers in the dark.

Connecting his lips with your clit, a moan escapes from your lips. Pushing his tongue past your entrance, Logan holds your hips in place to keep you from squirming. Gripping the thin comforter, you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to handle the heat rising in your face.

Watching you from afar, Logan continues to eat you out in a steady fashion, letting you enjoy the moment. Running your fingers through his thick hair, you can feel a butterfly sensation rising up to your core. Sensing your body working with his, Logan gently squeezes your hips, lifting you just a touch. Tasting your orgasm reaching its end, your toes curl against the bedding and you cum against Logan’s tongue.

Gasping for air, Logan crawls before you, and his entire physique comes to life. His strong muscles and veins don’t frighten you like so many others, but here everything about him brings you comfort. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Logan balances himself over you, still making sure this is what you want.

“I want you, Logan. All of you, I trust you.” You declare, wrapping your arms around him.

Your vow brings the thought of tears to his tortured eyes, knowing that he has truly deserved this moment.

Lovingly holding his face, Logan briefly touches the tip of your nose with his.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He responds.

“You won’t.” You advise him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, Logan rubs the tip of his cock in time with your folds, sending excitement through his veins. Sliding himself past your entrance, the two of you look at each other, sharing a loving moan. Thrusting his hips together, Logan longs to be deep inside you. He wanted to forget about the world and get lost in you.

Burying his face in your neck, Logan leaves no space between the two of you. Moving in time with his loving thrusts, the sensation of Logan’s manhood against your walls felt like a new stress reliever that you didn’t know you needed. Surrendering to this new wave of euphoria, your fingers run along the strong muscles along Logan’s back, touching the flexing fibers beneath his hot skin. Sinking deeper into you, Logan finds your sensitive spot, causing you to aggressively scratch his back. 

Clutching the back of his head, the new scars heal within seconds, whilst Logan slightly groans from the light ripple of pain. A burning sensation of heat starts to rise in your core, you could no longer handle the tension, and Logan continues to ride out the remainder of your orgasm in pure awe of you. Gasping for air, Logan surrounds his arms around your body, and rolls the two of you on your sides. 

Pressing his forehead on yours, Logan’s warmth cascades over you, giving you a blanket of warmth in the cool room. Shifting in his arms, he gently runs his fingers through your hair, just as you trace his dimples. 

“Well, thank you for a very interesting night, Logan.” You whisper. 

Smiling, the two of you share a loving laugh together, and Logan pulls the comforter over you, succumbing to the warmth beneath the blanket. 

wolverine taglist ~

@dreamliners

@miss1sarcasmo

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@foursthemagicknumber

[mononijikayu]

thirty–nine — gojo satoru.

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation

WARNING/S: romance, domesticity, fluff, family, break up, hurt/no comfort, angst, trauma, implied death, hurt/comfort, character death, depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of graphic content,depiction of emotional breakdown, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief;

WORD COUNT: 7.5k words

NOTE: in honor of the olympics ending tomorrow, here is the figure skating pair satoru x reader which just took a while to write. i was debating adding so much stuff here, but this is so long already and i didn't want to let you suffer my yapping. please enjoy this as much as pasilyo!!! i'll see you for yuuji's story AND the winning story idea from the polls~ i love you all <3

masterlist

series masterlist

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IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, SATORU WAS YOUR UNIVERSE. He always has been. Ever since you were a little girl, your life had revolved around Gojo Satoru. You remember it vividly, or at least you think you do. Your earliest memories were a mix of excitement and nerves, curiosity and clumsy attempts at coordination.

You recall stepping onto the ice rink for the first time. Your tiny skates felt like they had minds of their own. You looked up at your mom with wide, apprehensive eyes, wondering if you’d make a fool of yourself or somehow transform into a skating prodigy overnight.

“Just give it a try. You’ll be great!” Your mom waves, encouraging tune echoing from her lips. “Go darling!”

Your gaze swept around the rink, trying to take in every detail. There were adults gliding gracefully, children spinning in wild, chaotic circles, and the occasional crash that sounded like a minor icequake. And then, amidst this dizzying array of figures, you saw him—Gojo Satoru, as he was back then: a whirlwind of energy with an unruly mop of hair that defied gravity.

At that moment, your child-sized heart skipped a beat. You were captivated by his effortless moves, his goofy grin, and the way he seemed to have a magnetic pull on every eye in the rink. To you, he was like a live-action superhero—if superheroes had a penchant for playful teasing and spontaneous snowball fights.

“Who’s that? He’s amazing!” You asked your mom, eyes echoing in awe as you watched him skirt through like an angel visiting earth. 

“That’s Gojo Satoru. He’s quite the skater. And one day, you’ll be just as good.” Your mom grins knowingly. “I hear he’s been in some competitions already, you know?”

“I wanna be like him, mama! I wanna be as good as him!” You say patting her arm, as she smiled. “No, I wanna be even better!”

“You will be, I’m sure.” She says, as she helped you into the ice rink. “You can do it, I believe in you.”

You took to heart your mother’s words. You could  remember clutching the side of the rink for dear life as you tried to mimic Gojo’s moves. It was a mix of determination and hilarity. But you wanted to do better. You wanted to be as good as him, you wanted to be even better.

 “Careful, you’re making my moves look bad with all these awesome spins!” Gojo Satoru skates towards you, grin on his face. You almost fell, but you recovered pretty fast. You looked at him in awe. “Of course, you’ll be in awe of me, won’t you?”

“I’m just trying to keep up! Your spins are impossible!” You reply, eyes full of stars as you stare at him.

“Impossible? Nah, just a bit of practice and a lot of attitude!”

Years later, you’d look back on those early days and laugh at how starstruck you were. It wasn’t just the skating that captivated you; it was the way Gojo made everything feel like an adventure, every practice a chance for mischief and fun. And through all the spills and thrills, he became a central figure in your life—a constant, whether you were gliding gracefully or tumbling spectacularly.

“Remember when I tried to copy your triple axel and ended up face-planting into the ice?” you said, a snicker escaping your lips as you glanced at Satoru. The memory of your clumsy attempt at one of the most challenging moves still brought a touch of embarrassment, but now it was wrapped in fondness.

Satoru’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he recalled the scene. “How could I forget?” he said, his grin widening. “You made it look like a new ice trick!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think ‘new ice trick’ is just a polite way of saying I looked like a flailing fish.”

Satoru’s laughter was warm and infectious. “No way! You brought a whole new level of creativity to the rink. I’d never seen anyone make a face-plant look like part of the performance before. It was almost... avant-garde!”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “Avant-garde? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with mock seriousness. “You were way ahead of your time. You just needed a bigger audience to appreciate the art of the spectacular face-plant!”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his playful exaggeration. “I suppose if we had marketed it as a ‘revolutionary new ice dance move,’ we might have started a trend.”

“See?” Satoru said, nudging you with his elbow. “Told you. The effort made you even better. Every great skater has a few unforgettable falls in their repertoire. Yours just happened to be the most memorable.”

You leaned into him, enjoying the easy tenderness between you. “Well, thanks for sticking around to see it. I might not have had the best technique, but at least I had you to laugh with.”

“And to catch you when you fell.” Satoru added with a wink. “Though, I have to admit, watching you try that move was like watching a live-action comedy show. I’m still waiting for the sequel!”

You nudged him back playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get your fill of entertainment with me around. Just give me a few more practice sessions to perfect my ‘avant-garde’ style.”

Satoru’s laughter filled the rink as he pulled you into a warm hug. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe your next masterpiece will be the talk of the skating world.”

You might have had a few less-than-graceful moments throughout the years, but you wouldn’t trade those for anything. Because in every one of those moments, amidst the laughter and the tears, there was Gojo Satoru, making sure that no matter how many times you fell, he’d always be there to catch you—or at least to laugh with you when you got back up. 

From the age of ten, when you first got paired up as figure skating partners, everything changed. It was one of those pivotal moments in life that seemed to alter the course of your entire world. The rink in your small town in Tokyo was modest, its walls lined with the echoes of countless skaters who had come before you. Yet, on that day, it felt like the grandest stage imaginable.

The more you saw him, the more you were in awe of him. He was beautiful in a way that transcended mere physical appearance—his presence was magnetic. He had a head of unruly, gravity-defying hair that seemed to perfectly match the uncontainable energy radiating from him. His eyes, bright and full of mischief, held a spark that made you feel as though you were witnessing something truly extraordinary.

You liked to watch his practice session. You watched every movement with awestruck eyes. He effortlessly gliding across the ice with a grace that seemed to defy the laws of physics. To your young eyes, it was like watching a dancer in a dream—a perfect blend of elegance and daring. And even though he was just a boy, there was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved.

You could see the other kids watching him too, their faces reflecting a mix of admiration and envy. He had that rare quality of being able to draw attention without even trying, a natural charisma that made him the center of every conversation. You, on the other hand, felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. You were about to join him on this stage, and while the idea was thrilling, it was also intimidating.

Sure, he could be a brat—too blunt and annoyingly confident at times. His comments were often laced with a teasing edge, and his self-assuredness sometimes bordered on arrogance. But beneath that surface was an undeniable charm, a genuine enthusiasm for skating that was contagious. Despite his occasional brashness, there was something incredibly endearing about the way he approached life with such unabashed exuberance.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself drawn to him, despite the occasional clash of personalities. There was an undeniable pull, a feeling that your paths were meant to intertwine. The more you watched him, the more you realized that beneath his bravado, there was a heart full of passion and dreams—a heart that mirrored your own in many ways.

As you began your partnership, the initial awkwardness and nerves slowly gave way to a growing bond. The rink became a space where you could both express yourselves, where you learned to complement each other’s movements and anticipate each other’s needs. The early days were filled with stumbling attempts at coordination, but through every misstep and every laugh, a connection began to form..

It wasn’t long before you realized that you were in love with him. It was as if the universe had aligned perfectly, making it so easy to fall for him. After all, who else could understand you the way Satoru did? You two had grown up together, skating side by side, pushing each other to be better, stronger, faster. You knew every nuance of his personality, every quirk, and he knew yours just as intimately. You were made for each other.

So when you were both twenty, standing on that podium with gold medals around your necks after the Olympics, the decision to marry him felt as natural as breathing. You didn’t need grand gestures or long speeches. Just a simple ceremony, your hands clasped tightly together, your hearts beating in sync as you exchanged vows. The world saw two champions in love, but for you, it was simply a continuation of a life already lived side by side. 

Now, every glide across the ice, every perfectly executed lift, felt like a dance of love—the bond you had built over the years. You knew that no matter what challenges came your way, as long as you had Satoru by your side, you would always come out on top, both in life and on the ice.

But after competing together your whole lives, earning fame and glory in the Olympics year after year, the house of cards you thought could withstand any storm, any chaos, any catastrophe, suddenly crumbled. You were thirty when it happened, at the peak of your career. It wasn’t during a pairs event, but your individual skating routine—an arena where you stood alone, without Satoru by your side.

The routine had started flawlessly, every spin and jump executed with the precision and grace that had become your signature. But then, in the blink of an eye, something went wrong. A misstep, a momentary lapse, and you felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through your leg as you landed awkwardly.

You knew instantly that something was terribly wrong, but you pushed through it. The roaring crowd, the blinding lights, and the weight of your own expectations urged you on. So you kept going, forcing your body to move despite the pain, finishing your routine with the same poise you had always shown.

When the music stopped, you stood there, chest heaving, eyes scanning the audience as they erupted in applause. You had done it—you had won a medal. But the victory was hollow, the weight of the medal around your neck a constant reminder of what it had cost you. 

Satoru was there in an instant, his eyes wide with worry as he rushed to your side. But even as he held you, whispered reassurances in your ear, you could feel the cracks forming. The injury wasn’t just physical; it was the beginning of something deeper, something neither of you had prepared for. 

The house of cards you had built together, the one you thought could weather any storm, was suddenly teetering on the edge of collapse. And as you looked into Satoru’s eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment it would all come crashing down.

The injury was complicated, a tangled mess of torn ligaments and fractured bones that proved difficult to operate on. The doctors weren’t optimistic, and that crushed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The physical pain was one thing, but the heartbreak that followed was unbearable. You found yourself spiraling into a void of despair, the life you had known slipping away with each passing day.

You began to isolate yourself, retreating into the shadows of your own mind. The rink, once your sanctuary, became a place of torment, a constant reminder of what you had lost. Satoru tried to be there for you, but even his presence felt like a weight too heavy to bear. The once unbreakable bond between you began to fray, each day pulling you further apart.

When you finally announced your retirement, it felt like the end of an era. But it wasn’t just skating you were leaving behind; you wanted to erase yourself from Satoru’s narrative too. You couldn’t bear the thought of holding him back, of being the reason his career might falter. Your failures had already cost you everything—there was no way you would let them drag him down too.

Satoru, with his usual stubbornness, refused to let go. He never wanted a divorce, didn’t even want to talk about separation. But you needed space, a distance that would allow you to breathe without feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of your shared history. Satoru understood this—he understood it all too well. So he didn’t fight you, didn’t push back. He simply waited, hoping that time and space would heal the wounds that had driven a wedge between you.

And so, the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Satoru waited, holding onto the hope that one day you would find your way back to him, that the love you shared would be strong enough to bridge the distance that had grown between you. He waited, because he knew that no matter how far you tried to run, you were still a part of him, just as he was a part of you.

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HE WISHED HE COULD TAKE BACK THAT DAY. But he knew that he couldn’t change the reality of what had happened. No matter how many times he hoped, prayed, or wished for a different outcome, the truth remained that life had robbed you of your dreams. In the world of figure skating, the years were fleeting, and only a select few were fortunate enough to extend their careers into their thirties.

Satoru was one of those few, still gracing the ice with his presence at thirty-eight, but you had always been right there beside him. You were making plans yourself, contemplating when to step away, but it was supposed to be on your own terms, with a final performance that would leave the world breathless.

That’s what broke you the most, he thinks—the fact that fate had stolen that choice from you. You were supposed to have one last dance, one last chance to glide across the ice and feel the love of the crowd, to pour your heart into the sport that had shaped your life.

But instead, your departure was abrupt, forced by circumstances beyond your control. The ice, which had been your sanctuary, your stage, and your life, was taken from you without warning. And now, as you both reached thirty-eight, the painful reality was that you and the ice would part forever in a way neither of you had ever wanted.

For Satoru, it was excruciating to find his footing without you. Every day at the rink felt like a different world, one that was both familiar and alien. He tried to push forward, to focus on his training and his new role as a mentor, but it was impossible to ignore the gaping hole left by your absence.

When he looked around during practice sessions, at Coach Yaga’s stern face, the focused expressions of the staff, and the young skaters striving to make their mark, he felt the sting of loss all over again. The rink was the same, yet everything had changed.

There were no shared glances with you, no reassuring smiles or knowing nods as you both prepared to take the ice together. The absence of your voice, your laughter, your presence—it was a constant ache that refused to dull. Every corner of the rink held memories of you, of the life you had built together on the ice. Now, without you, it felt like skating in a shadow, always missing the light that had once guided him.

Satoru knew that this was his reality now, and no amount of wishing could bring back what had been lost. But even as he trained, coached, and tried to find meaning in this new chapter of his life, the thought of you lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

It hurt more than he could ever express, but he kept going, because that’s what you would have wanted him to do. Even if he didn’t hear it, he knows this is what you would have wanted. And so, with each step he took, he carried the weight of your absence.

And he still got it. Gojo Satoru still managed to captivate the hearts of many in the skating world, even as the years wore on. The boy who once dazzled audiences with his youthful brilliance was now a seasoned veteran, revered and respected.

He still skated, still graced the ice with the effortless grace that had made him a legend, but he knew his time as a competitor was drawing to a close. He had begun to transition into coaching, guiding the next generation of talent. Rising star Megumi Fushiguro had caught his eye, a skater with raw potential and a fire that reminded Satoru of his younger self.

But even with the new responsibilities, the thrill of mentoring, it was hard. Every single day, the weight of your absence pressed down on him. You had been gone for a while now, distancing yourself in a way that left him feeling helpless and lost. The silence between you was deafening, a void he couldn’t seem to fill no matter how hard he tried.

He worried about you constantly, wondering how you were coping, whether you were healing—both physically and emotionally. The thought of you alone, battling your demons without him, tore at his heart. So, he made a note in his head to message you, to reach out once more. It wasn’t much, just a few words, a simple check-in, but it was all he could do. He never got a reply, but he knew you saw the messages. Somehow, he convinced himself that it was enough, that knowing you were still there, somewhere, was better than nothing at all.

At least he knew you were well. That was what mattered most, even if it meant enduring the silence that stretched on between you. And so, he continued to wait, just as he had before, holding onto the hope that one day, you might find your way back to him. Maybe someday you’ll find your way back into his arms.

But he never expected it to be right here, right now. Gojo Satoru never expected that he would find you here today. It was just another day at the rink, one of many he’d spent alone, trying to fill the emptiness that lingered after you left. As he packed up his gear, mentally preparing to head home, something caught his eye near the exit. He blinked, unsure if he was seeing things, but there you were—standing by the door, just like you used to, waiting for him with that familiar smile on your face.

For a moment, he froze, unsure if this was a dream or some trick of his mind. It had been months since you last talked, months since he had seen that smile, and the shock of seeing you here, in the place where it all began, left him momentarily speechless. But the way you looked at him, the way you waved as if no time had passed at all—it stirred something deep within him, something he had almost forgotten.

Slowly, he walked over to you, his heart pounding in his chest. The closer he got, the more real you became, and when he finally reached you, he found himself searching your face for answers. Were you really here? Was this really happening?

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice carrying the warmth and familiarity he had missed so much.

“Hey.” he replied, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you were standing right in front of him. “I didn’t expect to see you here. What brings you to town?”

You smiled even wider, the kind of smile that always made him feel like everything was going to be okay. “I wanted to see you.” you said simply. “It’s been too long.”

He felt a lump form in his throat, a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “How long are you staying?”

“For a while.” you answered, your eyes meeting him with a sincerity that made his heart ache. 

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Satoru didn’t know what this meant, or what it would lead to, but at that moment, none of it mattered. You were here, in front of him, smiling that same smile that had captured his heart so many years ago. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.

As the days passed, Satoru and you slowly began to rebuild something that resembled the life you once shared, the marriage that had been so deeply intertwined with your skating careers.

It wasn’t exactly the same, but it was something beautiful in its own right, something tender and fragile, blossoming with each shared moment. Satoru cherished it, adored it more than words could express. He had missed you more than he had ever let on, and now that you were back in his life, he found himself clinging to every second, treasuring every smile, every touch.

You fell into a rhythm together, one that was both familiar and new. It felt like rediscovering each other all over again, like finding pieces of a puzzle that had been scattered but never lost. Satoru reveled in the simple things—the quiet conversations, the laughter, the warmth of your presence beside him. He had spent so much time wondering if he would ever feel whole again, and now, with you here, it was as if the missing pieces were finally falling into place.

Through it all, one thought became clear to him: after living multiple lifetimes with you, each time he was reborn, he always wanted you. In every lifetime, in every possible world, it was you he would choose, again and again. No matter the circumstances, no matter the struggles or the suffering, he wanted nothing more in life than to be together with you. 

If he had to suffer, if he had to endure pain or hardship, he would gladly accept it—just to have you by his side. Because with you, every trial was worth it, every challenge bearable. You were his beginning and his end, the one constant in a world that was always changing.

And as he looked at you now, smiling at him as you always did, he knew that this was all he needed, all he would ever need. Satoru had found his way back to you, and he would hold onto you with everything he had, because there was nothing more precious to him than the life you were building together once more.

That night, you and Satoru were out to dinner together. He had gone all out, renting the entire balcony of your favorite restaurant in the city. The view was breathtaking, the city lights twinkling beneath a clear night sky. You sat together, enjoying a delicious meal, reminiscing and laughing like you used to. It felt almost like old times, a moment of peace and happiness that you both had desperately needed.

As the evening went on, you found yourself watching him, taking in the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his smile lit up the world around him. You loved him so much, and that love had only grown stronger with time. But as you looked at him, you knew it was time to tell him what you had been holding back.

"Satoru." you said softly, your voice tinged with both hesitation and resolve. "I have something to say."

He looked at you, a playful smile still on his lips as he asked, "What is it?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words still came out shakily. "The doctor, I visited him.”

He raised a brow. “Is it about your knee? What did he say? Do you need another operation? If so, I’ll make time around it on my schedule—”

“Satoru.” You say, cutting him off. You smiled at him, shaking your head. 

“My love, what is it?” 

You looked downward, as though you were deep into thought for a moment. You raised your head once again and took a deep breath. He noticed the air shift, as he stared into your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him with that haunting smile. He thinks he’ll never forget it. It was seared into him, how you could smile in this moment when those truths were about to come from your lips. The truth he hated most.

“I have pancreatic cancer, my doctor said." you began, watching as his expression shifted from curiosity to shock. "Final stage. The survival rate… it’s 0.08 percent."

The smile vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a look of utter devastation. His eyes welled up with tears, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process the enormity of what you had just said. Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the cruel reality you had just revealed.

“What?”

“It…” You take a moment, trying not to break in front of him. “It was a shock for me too. But...…”

“When?” He huffs, as though he was about to run out of air. “When did you find out?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, almost ashamed. “Two days ago.”

"Why?" he choked out, his voice breaking as the tears began to fall. "Why does it have to be you?"

Hearing his pain, seeing the tears streaming down his face, was enough to break your heart all over again. You felt your own tears begin to well up, and soon they were spilling over, streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him. But you tried to stay strong, tried to find some semblance of composure. You even managed a small, shaky laugh through the tears, though it sounded more like a sob.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with a gentle resolve, "All I want to do is have fun with you. With all the time left, hm? I want to skate like we used to, laugh like we did tonight… I want to spend whatever time I have left making the best memories with you."

He held you even tighter, his tears soaking into your shoulder as he cried quietly, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. "I can’t lose you, not again." he whispered, his voice raw with grief. "I don’t know how to live without you."

"You won’t lose me, you know what, hm?" you said, your voice cracking as you tried to comfort him, even as your own tears continued to fall. "I’ll always be with you, no matter what happens. But for now, let’s make the most of the time we have, okay? Let’s skate together, laugh together… let’s live."

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t find the words to respond. He just held you, both of you crying together, sharing the pain and the love that bound you so deeply. He doesn't say anything mroe and neither do you. It was better that way.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS A NO BRAINER FOR HIM. The day after your dinner, Gojo Satoru made an announcement that sent shockwaves through the figure skating world. Standing before a room full of reporters and cameras, he took a deep breath, steadying himself as he prepared to say the words he never thought he’d utter so soon.

“Effective immediately, I’m retiring from competitive figure skating.” he said, his voice calm but firm. The room erupted in gasps and murmurs, but Satoru kept his gaze steady, focused on the truth he had to share. “I won’t be taking on any new commitments as a coach either, not for the time being.”

He could see the confusion, the surprise in the faces around him, but he didn’t waver. “My partner, my… my spouse,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly as he forced himself to push through, “has been diagnosed with a serious illness. My priority is to be with them, to support them through this time.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone. Satoru’s heart pounded in his chest, but he knew this was the right decision. Nothing mattered more to him than being by your side, especially now. The ice could wait. The world could wait. You needed him, and that was all that mattered.

It was hard—harder than he had imagined. The pain you were in was unbearable to watch, a constant reminder of the battle you were fighting. He hated seeing you suffer, hated the way the illness stole pieces of you day by day. You tried to stay strong, tried to keep smiling for him, but he could see the pain etched in every line of your face, hear it in the way your breath hitched when you thought he wasn’t listening.

Sometimes, when you were resting, Satoru would retreat to a quiet corner of the house, somewhere you wouldn’t find him, and he would cry. He would cry for you, for the life you were supposed to have together, for the unfairness of it all. He cried because he felt helpless, unable to take away your pain, unable to do anything but watch as the illness took its toll.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he knew you noticed. You would look at him with those eyes, filled with concern for him even as you battled your own pain. He wished you wouldn’t—wished you wouldn’t see the cracks in his armor, wouldn’t see the way this was breaking him. He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to be your rock, but the truth was, he was terrified. 

He wished you didn’t have to see his tears, didn’t have to carry the burden of his sorrow on top of everything else you were going through. But no matter how much he tried to hide it, you always noticed, and that only made him ache more. He didn’t want to add to your pain, didn’t want you to worry about him when you had so much to face already.

But through it all, Satoru stayed by your side, refusing to leave you for even a moment. He held your hand through the pain, stayed up with you through the long nights, and whispered words of comfort even when he was breaking inside. Because in the end, none of it mattered. None of the tears, none of the fear—as long as he could be with you, as long as he could love you through every moment you had left.

Despite the pain that had become a constant companion, despite the weakness that sapped your strength with each passing day, you found yourself yearning for one final chance to skate. The ice rink had always been your sanctuary, a place where you felt most alive, most connected to Satoru. And now, as the end approached, you wanted nothing more than to experience that joy one last time.

You approached Satoru with trembling resolve. He was sitting beside you, holding your hand gently, his eyes reflecting the deep sadness and concern that had become all too familiar. You took a deep breath, mustering the energy to make your request.

"Satoru, please." you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want to go to the rink. I want to skate with you… just one last time."

Satoru’s face immediately fell, a mixture of shock and concern washing over him. "No," he said firmly, his voice strained with the effort to stay calm. "You're too weak. You can't do this. It’s too dangerous."

But you shook your head, the tears welling up in your eyes. "Please, Satoru." you pleaded, your voice breaking as the emotion overwhelmed you. "I know I'm sick. I know it’s risky. But I just want to feel the ice again, to be with you on that rink one last time. It’s all I’m asking."

His resolve began to falter, his heart aching at the sight of your tears, at the desperation in your voice. "I don’t want to see you in pain, my love." he said, his own voice trembling. "What if something happens? I can't bear to see you hurt."

You couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. You clung to him, your body shaking with the force of your tears. "Please." you begged through your sobs, "Just...please just this once. I need this. I need it for me, for us."

Satoru’s tears began to fall as well, mingling with yours. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. He could feel the weight of your illness pressing down on him, the crushing reality of it all. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe, but he also saw how much this meant to you.

After a few moments of holding you, he pulled back slightly, his eyes red and wet. "Okay....I...." he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We’ll go to the rink. But promise me we’ll be careful. Promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much."

You nodded through your tears, a small, grateful smile forming on your lips despite the sadness. "I promise," you whispered, feeling a glimmer of hope.

Satoru helped you get ready, carefully supporting you as you made your way to the rink. Every step was a struggle, every movement a reminder of how much you had endured. But when you finally stepped onto the ice, with Satoru by your side, you felt a fleeting sense of peace.

As you skated together, every movement was a bittersweet reminder of the life you had shared, of the joy you had found in each other. Your Satoru held you close, guiding you gently across the ice, making sure you were safe while also trying to hold back his own tears.

It was a moment of fragile beauty, a final dance on the ice that captured the essence of your love and the depth of your connection. For a little while, the pain and the sadness seemed to fade, replaced by the pure joy of being together once more, on the ice where it all began. And in that moment, despite everything, you felt a profound sense of peace, knowing that you had shared one last perfect memory with the person you loved most.

As you skated together, the ice beneath your feet felt both comforting and foreign, a reminder of the many times you had danced together in the past. Satoru guided you gently, his grip firm but tender, as you moved across the rink.

“Just a little slower, hm?” he said softly, his voice a mix of concern and love. “I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.”

You nodded, trying to match his pace. “I’m okay. you whispered, though your breath was ragged. “I just… I needed this. I needed to feel… like we’re still us.”

Satoru glanced at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and affection. “I wish I could do more for you.” he said, his voice trembling. “I wish we had more time.”

You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face despite the smile on your lips. “We have now.” you said softly. “We have this moment. That’s all I need.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as you skated. “I love you.” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I love you so much."

“I love you too.” you replied, your voice barely audible as the tears continued to flow.

Satoru’s grip tightened around you, and he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m here, okay?” he whispered. “I’m always here, no matter what happens. I’ll never leave you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. “Thank you for doing this, for me.” you said softly. “For making this… one last memory.”

Satoru nodded, his own tears falling freely now. “I’ll always treasure this.” he said, his voice breaking. “Even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, the world outside the rink fading away as you focused on the connection you shared. Eventually, you began to slow down, feeling the weight of exhaustion and pain.

“Let’s rest for a bit.” Satoru suggested gently. “We don’t have to do everything at once. We can take it slow.”

You nodded, letting him guide you to the edge of the rink where you both sat down, still holding each other. The cold of the ice beneath you felt soothing, a contrast to the warmth of Satoru’s embrace.

“Do you remember?” you said quietly, trying to shift the focus to happier memories, “Our first time, when we skated together?”

Satoru chuckled softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “How could I forget? You were so determined, even though you could barely stay upright. I think you fell more than you skated.”

You laughed, a small, bittersweet sound. “And you kept teasing me about it, but you were always there to catch me.”

“Always,” he agreed, squeezing your hand. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll always be here to catch you.”

Satoru took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Do you remember when we first met at the rink?” he began, his voice growing softer but more steady as he spoke. “You were so nervous, and I was this cocky kid who thought he knew it all. You kept falling, but you were determined to keep going. I think that’s when I first realized how strong you were.”

You smiled faintly, imagining the scene he described. “I remember.” you whispered. “You were so annoying, but you helped me up every time I fell.”

“And you kept getting up, you would grip my hand hard too.” Satoru continued, his voice steadying as he spoke of the past. “You never gave up, no matter how many times you fell. It was inspiring. It was...It was everything."

As he spoke, your breathing became more labored, each inhale taking more effort than the last. Satoru’s voice wavered, but he continued, determined to give you this final gift of memories. You could feel it. How easily it would break into shattering tears. To see one’s heart break into a million pieces. To be the one slowly being left behind.

“I remember our first competition together, in pairs.” he said, his voice trembling with both nostalgia and emotion. “We were so nervous, but we pulled it off. I remember looking at you after our performance, seeing the pride in your eyes. That look in your eyes…. it was like the stars were before us. And it was everything to me.”

Tears streamed down your face as you listened, each word from Satoru bringing back memories of the life you had shared. “Thank you, baby.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Thank you for everything.”

Satoru kissed your forehead gently, his own tears falling freely. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” he said softly. “I always will. No matter where you go, you’ll always be with me. I’ll carry you with me, in everything I do.”

“In another life, will you choose me again?” you whimpered softly, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. He lowered his head, tears slipping down his face, and after a moment, he raised his gaze to meet yours.

“I always will,” he replied, his voice choked with emotion. He sniffed away his tears, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to anchor himself in the moment. “I’ll always choose you, no matter what. Even if you break my heart all the time, I’ll be yours.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as well, touched deeply by his words. “Then I’ll choose you too, baby. Even if I don’t remember, help me. Help me remember. So I can love you like this again.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute despite the tears streaming down his face. “I always will. I promise.”

You leaned against him, feeling a profound sense of peace despite the pain. “Thank you, Satoru. For everything. For making these last moments together so special.”

He kissed the top of your head, holding you close. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it. For giving me this final memory with you.”

And in those last precious moments, surrounded by the warmth of Satoru’s love and the memories of a life well-lived, you found a sense of tranquility. You lean your head on his shoulders, taking one deep breath and smiling.

The pain and struggle began to fade, replaced by the profound comfort of knowing that you were loved, that you had shared something beautiful, and that even in the face of the inevitable, you were not alone. The sun had begun to rise again, on your faces. And that it’s already set in stone — Gojo Satoru will find you again. He will love you again. Over and over. No matter what.

[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.3🖤

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4332

Summary: Minho and you slowly find your way back together once he's released from the hospital. Minjun's birthday party brings you both closer than ever before ...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the first part especially🤭 I'll have a very busy day tomorrow, so you'll get the next part today already instead🤭🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You immediately take up the responsibility of caring for Minjun, ensuring that Minho has no worries as he recovers. You bring Minjun to your home and transform it into a safe haven for the little boy who is confused and missing his dad.

You set up a schedule that balances fun activities and quiet time, keeping Minjun engaged and content. Mornings are spent in the garden, where you teach him how to plant seeds and water flowers, explaining the nature of growth and the care plants need to thrive—a subtle lesson you hope he translates into understanding his father’s situation.

Minjun enthusiastically takes to gardening, his curious nature soaking up every detail you offer. He frequently asks questions, his large eyes wide with wonder as he watches little bugs crawling around and you tell him more about them. “Does Daddy need water and sun to get better, too?” he asks one day, his innocence tugging at your heartstrings.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. “Something like that, buddy. Your dad needs rest and a little bit of sunshine to regain his strength.”

During these days, Minjun often speaks of his father, his young mind trying to wrap around why his dad had to stay in the hospital. You assure him that his dad is getting stronger every day, and soon, they’ll be back to playing in the park and reading bedtime stories.

In the afternoons, you work on light educational activities like drawing and reading. Minjun loves to draw; his papers are filled with pictures of his garden and the plants and lots of drawings of him and his dad together, often with a big sun shining overhead. You send these drawings to Minho, who calls every evening to say goodnight, his voice always a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.

Each call becomes a little bridge, reconnecting the threads of the small family. Minho’s voice grows stronger each day, and his words begin to carry hope instead of just fatigue. He shares updates about his recovery, about the small victories of a full night’s sleep or a walk around the hospital ward without feeling dizzy.

One evening, as you and Minjun are setting up a board game in the living room, your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, and he’s calling a bit earlier than usual.

“Y/n, hey. I… I’m coming home tomorrow,” Minho’s voice is tentative, almost shy.

“That’s great news, Minho! Minjun will be so happy,” you respond, watching Minjun’s face light up at the mention of his dad.

“Can we… can I come over when I get back? I want to see Minjun, and I… I owe you a proper thank you,” Minho adds, his tone earnest.

“That's okay,” you assure him, feeling a complex knot of emotions at his return but happy for Minjun’s sake.

The next day is bright and sunny, and Minjun is practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Daddy coming now? Or now?” he asks every few minutes, peering out the window.

“Soon, little bug. Let’s go to the garden. We can show him how much everything has grown since he’s been gone,” you suggest, leading him outside.

You're both kneeling in the garden, Minjun excitedly pointing out each new sprout and blossom, when you hear the gate click. Looking up, you see Minho, thinner and a bit pale but smiling as he watches his son.

“Daddy!” Minjun screams, sprinting towards him with a speed that surprises both of you. Minho drops to his knees just in time to catch him, embracing him tightly. His eyes close as he buries his face in Minjun’s soft curls. 

“I missed you so much, buddy,” Minho murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Missed you more,” Minjun replies, his small hands cupping his face as he kisses his nose. 

You walk over slowly, giving them a moment, before Minho looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/nnie, thank you,” he says, standing up to face you. “It means a lot.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Minho. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you reply, your voice gentle.

“No, I need to say this,” Minho insists, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I took that for granted. I hope I can make it up to both of you somehow.”

“One step after the other. For now, you should rest; we can talk properly later,” you suggest, offering a smile that Minho returns gratefully.

Minho reaches into his pocket, and you can hear him pulling out his keys. He stretches out his hand almost timidly, offering you your spare keys to his home. “You're always welcome. If not for me, then for him, please. I don't want him to suffer just because I fucked up.”

You hesitantly take them, able to tell he's trying to fix things. “I…I'll think about it. I need time, Min.”

“That's okay,” he assures you. “Your replacement is shit, by the way,” he says with a weak grin. 

You chuckle softly. “No, that's you being used to someone handling things for you more than for the others,” you remind him. You inhale deeply and awkwardly rub your neck. “I'll also think about that, okay?” 

“Okay,” he nods, unable to hide the hope in his orbs at the mere chance of you coming back. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you assure him. “Me too…Now, go rest, please. Call if you need something.”

“Bye, Y/nnie,” Minjun says, hugging you tightly as you get down on his level. “Love you.”

You swallow softly, a similar surprise lacing both Minho's and your features. “I love you too, buddy,” you answer honestly and squeeze him gently. “Now go home with your daddy, yeah?”

-

The quiet of the morning was filled only by the faint sounds of the city waking up beyond the walls of the small, cozy room where Minho found himself slowly coming to consciousness. As his senses sharpened, the first thing he became aware of was the warm, small body pressed against his side. Gently turning his head, he sees Minjun, his little baby, sleeping peacefully next to him, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight fills Minho with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Minho wraps his arms around Minjun, pulling him close. The boy, still deep in his dreams, instinctively snuggles closer into his father's embrace. Even in sleep, Minjun seems to sense his father's need for closeness and comforts him with his mere presence.

Minho’s eyes trace the soft, youthful features of his son's face, noting the faint freckles that dust his nose and the gentle curl of his lips. Memories flood through Minho’s mind—the first time he held Minjun, the first steps he took, the first words he spoke.

Recovering from his incident, Minho was forced to confront his own vulnerabilities and the stark realization of how much he relied on the presence of his son. These mornings, waking up next to Minjun, were sacred. They were not just moments of physical rest but crucial for his emotional recovery as well. 

Minjun shifts in his sleep, a small sigh escaping him. His small hand grips Minho's shirt tightly as if, even in his dreams, he is determined to hold on. Minho’s heart aches with an overwhelming mix of joy and sorrow—joy for his son's presence and health and sorrow for the times he hadn’t been there as fully as he wanted.

“Daddy loves you, Minjun,” Minho whispers into his son's dark curls, his voice barely audible. A tear escapes the corner of his eye as he tightens his embrace, grateful beyond words for his return to health and the second chance it represented.

The sun begins to cast its first rays into the room, streaks of light that paint the walls with the colors of dawn. The light seems to coax the city to life gently, and as it does, it also seems to awaken Minjun. The little boy yawns and blinks open his eyes, surprised for a moment to find himself so close to his father.

“Daddy?” Minjun’s voice is sleepy and confused but also filled with an affection that comes from deep within.

“Good morning, buddy,” Minho says, his voice still thick with emotion. “Did you sleep well?”

Minjun nods, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yes.”

Minho smiles. “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to the park later?”

“Yeah!” Minjun’s face lights up with excitement. “And I can be a hero!”

Minho laughs, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. “Of course, my little superhero. But first, how about we make some pancakes for breakfast?”

Minjun’s agreement is instantaneous and enthusiastic. As they get up and make their way to the kitchen, Minho keeps his son close, his hand resting lightly on Minjun’s shoulder. Making breakfast together was a simple activity, yet it held so much meaning for Minho, just being home again. 

As Minho watches Minjun clumsily crack eggs and stir batter, he is filled with gratitude for his young son's resilience. He had managed to stay strong and loving throughout the difficulties they had faced.

“Daddy?” Minjun looks up at him, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Minho is taken aback, realizing that his emotional reflections must have shown on his face. He kneels down, bringing himself to eye level with Minjun, and smiles.

“I’m more than okay; I’m happy,” he assures his son, his hand gently cupping the boy’s cheek. “I’m just very thankful for you, Minjun. You’re my little hero, did you know that?”

Minjun giggles, the sound like music to Minho’s ears. “I’m your hero?”

“Yes, you are,” Minho assures him, hugging him tightly. “My biggest hero.”

Minjun hugs him back, his small arms strong and sure. “It’s okay, Daddy. I take care of you.”

The words, so earnest and sincere from such a young soul, fill Minho with an even deeper appreciation for his son and his eyes with tears. He realizes that while he was often the one taking care of Minjun, his son was also taking care of him in many ways, providing love, motivation, and a reason to recover fully and well.

One week later 

For Minjun's birthday, Minho decided on a cozy movie night—a welcome change from the usual buzz of birthday parties and perfectly suited for their small circle. The boys all love a good movie night, find children's movies hilarious, and, most importantly, they all love Minjun like their own. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows, they arrive one by one.

Chan and Felix arrive last with a special surprise for the birthday boy. “Jiho, mate, we brought someone with us,” Felix leans down to him conspiratorially. 

“Who?” he asks curiously, eyes growing wide. Chan steps aside and gently pulls you out of hiding. Minjun squeaks in delight, looking up at Minho excitedly. “Daddy, it's Y/nnie!” he says, jumping in place impatiently. 

Minho giggles and gently brushes back his curls. “Well, go say hi, dumpling.”

Minjun doesn't need a second invitation to fall into your arms. “Hey, little bug,” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he beams happily before moving on to greet the next guest. “Uncle Channie, up!” he says, reaching out for him. 

Chan smirks, lifts him up and throws him into the air above his head a little, catching him safely again. Minho flinches heavily, reaching for Minjun in shock. Felix laughs at him, gently patting his back. “Channie, babe, don't give him a heart attack.” 

Chan laughs, putting a giggling Minjun back on his feet. “Sorry, Min,” he chuckles, and Minho snorts. 

“Alright, come on in, you know the way,” Minho laughs.

The living room was transformed into a fortress of comfort. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor, creating a plush sea of soft fabrics that invited everyone to kick off their shoes and sink in. The air was rich with the aroma of popcorn and sweet treats that lined the table alongside a stack of Minjun’s favorite animated movies.

Minho watches as Felix and Jeongin set up the projector, their antics punctuated by light-hearted banter that fills the room with laughter. Hyunjin and Seungmin are tasked with stringing fairy lights around the room, adding a magical ambiance that makes the space feel like a small cinema hall. Jisung and Changbin, meanwhile, busy themselves in the kitchen, popping more popcorn and arranging a variety of snacks on platters. Minho watches his family with a smile, each member contributing to the evening’s success, weaving their love for Minjun into every detail.

The movie starts, the lights dimmed to mimic a theater, and the first frames flicker across the makeshift screen. Minjun sits between Minho and you, a perfect sandwich of his favorite people, his face lit by the soft glow of the projector as he watches with wide-eyed wonder.

Throughout the evening, the adults' eyes often meet over Minjun's head, shared smiles of affection and slight amusement at his captivated reactions to the on-screen adventures. During a particularly exciting scene, Minjun would sometimes stand, pointing at the screen and explaining to you loudly the many details of the plot as he understood them.

"The hero's gonna save everyone. He's strong like daddy!" Minjun's voice is full of pride and excitement, making everyone chuckle, especially Minho, whose heart swells with love and a bit of awe at his son's interpretation.

The room is filled with the sounds of the movie, mixed with Minjun's occasional commentary and the boys' gentle laughs.

Halfway through the second movie, Minjun’s eyelids begin to droop, and he leans more heavily against you, his small hand gripping yours as he fights the pull of sleep. You look down at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, touched by the trust and affection Minjun shows you.

Minho notices this gentle exchange, and his heart is filled with gratitude for your presence in Minjun’s life, especially during the times when he couldn’t be there himself. He makes a mental note to himself to ensure you know how much your support meant to him, perhaps later when the movies are done and the excitement of the day has settled into the quiet of the night.

As the evening winds down and the credits roll on the last movie, Minho gently nudges Minjun awake to blow out the candles on his small birthday cake. With a sleepy grin, Minjun makes a wish and blows with all his might, the room erupting into applause.

"Happy birthday, Minjun!" everyone cheers, making him giggle happily and hide in Minho’s arms shyly. 

Minho soothingly kisses his hair and cuddles him close. Your heart warms seeing them, and glancing around the room, you can tell how much Minho and his little boy mean to everyone. Minho looks almost as tired as Minjun, but both are beaming with happiness. The boys fall back into their usual chatter, and you more or less subtly watch Minho next to you with Minjun still in his arms. They're having a quiet conversation, Minjun resting his head against Minho's and holding onto his hands. You feel the old, familiar warmth spreading through you as you watch them. Getting into that fight with Minho had made you feel awful. You missed your time with Minjun and you realized how used you've grown to Minho's presence in your life. 

Minho's eyes find yours, and your breath hitches at the softness of his orbs. “Minjun's asking if you could read him a bedtime story?”

“Oh, of course,” you nod. 

“The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. You can get comfortable there; he loves cuddling in bed before,” he assures you kindly and watches you leave with Minjun. 

Chan nudges him gently. “You two are alright again?”

“We're working on it,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly. 

“We should wrap it up,” Chan chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly. 

“Yongbokie and you can have the guestroom upstairs. You'd get home way too late,” he tells him. Chan and Felix live the furthest away, after all. “Jisung and Hyunjin can have the sofa,” he laughs, seeing them already deep asleep there. 

Seungmin, listening in, pouts softly. “I'm tired, I don't want to leave.”

Minho glances at him and Innie, resting their heads on Changbin’s shoulders. “I can only offer you to sleep here with all the pillows and stuff.”

“Sounds great,” Jeongin mumbles drowsily. 

“Mhm, then that's settled,” Chan chuckles, soothingly rubbing Felix's shoulder as the younger one slowly grows heavy against him. “Should we clean up tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah, I'll do it once everyone's gone,” Minho laughs. 

“Lix and I can help,” he assures him, earning a thankful smile. 

About ten minutes later, once Minho made sure everyone had what they needed he made his way to his own bedroom, Chan next to him. “I forgot Lix gets cold easily,” he chuckles and carefully pushes the door open. He stops in his tracks, seeing you comfortably sprawled out on his bed, Minjun on your chest, and a book loosely in your hand. You're both asleep, looking peaceful and content. “Shit, I forgot about Y/nnie,” he curses quietly. 

“You can't really move him anywhere else, look at Minjun,” Chan giggles. 

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” he asks quietly, grabbing a fluffy blanket for Chan and Felix. 

“There's plenty of room next to them,” he says. 

“Chan. I can't just get into bed with my assistant,” he argues. 

“Your so-called assistant is hugging your son and asleep in your bed. I think you're way past that, mate,” he laughs. “It's your bed; just keep your distance or whatever.” Minho anxiously chews on his lower lip, debating a hundred different possibilities in his head. “Or you join me and Lix?”

“No, you two touchy fuckers can have that bed for your own,” he giggles, shoving his chest. “Not interested in a threesome right now.”

“Right now?” Chan teases, and Minho playfully raises his fist at him. “What about-”

“Go sleep, you're talking nonsense,” he laughs and gently shoves him outside. “Idiot.”

Chan giggles and gently shoves him back inside. “I'll hit you if you don't sleep in your own bed tonight. You still need rest, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans. 

Minho stares down at the scene before him, the weight of Chan's words sinking in. He watches you and Minjun, both deep in the tranquil sleep of the innocent and the cared-for, their faces peaceful and free from the burdens that Minho carried on his shoulders.

Gathering all his bravery, Minho slowly approaches the bed, his movements hesitant but deliberate. As he reaches the edge, he pauses, taking a moment to truly look at you—someone who has become so much more than just an assistant. You have been his support system, his son's caregiver, and his unintentional savior in times of unspoken despair. How could he continue to maintain a mere professional boundary when everything about your relationship had transcended those limits?

Minho carefully settles on the far edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The soft sounds of Minjun's and your breathing soothe his nerves. 

The room is silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sounds of the city. Minho turns his head slightly, watching Minjun snuggle closer to you in his sleep. The sight is both beautiful and a stark reminder of the intimate moments he had missed during his recovery.

After a few moments, you shift in your sleep, perhaps sensing the added presence or the slight dip in the mattress as Minho lay down. Your eyes flutter open, and in the dim light, your gaze meets Minho’s. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. “I can leave.”

“Don't,” Minho says quickly and swallows hard. “He's comfortable here with you; there's no need to leave.”

“You're sure?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Well, you should get comfortable as well. There's no need to hover over the edge of the bed.”

Those words, softly spoken, are like a key turning in a lock for Minho. They break through his last hesitations, sweeping away the remnants of his doubts. He shifts closer, reducing the distance between him and you, and allows himself to relax fully. You turn on your side to face him, your eyes locking with his in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, the words thick with emotions. “For everything.”

Your hand finds his under the blankets, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re past apologies, Minho. I fucked up because I took him without telling you. I didn't think and expected you to trust me; that wasn't fair. You overreacted…which is kind of understandable. I'm sorry for my part in this, and you're sorry for yours. We're okay.”

Minho feels a warmth spread through his chest. He nods, accepting your forgiveness, and turns his attention to Minjun, who murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and snuggles closer to both of you.

-

The early morning rays begin to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your eyes slowly flutter open as they meet your face. Stretching your tired body, you slowly realize that Minjun is gone already…and that Minho has gotten a lot closer overnight. You glance down and see his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to himself. His head is buried in your neck; you can feel his breath dancing across your skin. His hair feels soft against your skin and you wonder how it'd feel if you sank your hand into it. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do next. The warmth of his breath against your skin sends a mix of comfort and alarm coursing through you. This is Minho, you remind yourself, technically, he's still my boss. Yet, the intimacy of this accidental cuddling was something entirely new, a boundary neither of you had crossed before.

Minho stirs, his movements slow and sluggish as he approaches the edge of consciousness. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction when he realizes the closeness you both shared through the night. His eyes open gently, adjusting to the soft morning light, and then widen slightly as he takes in the position you both are in.

There's a moment of silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the unintentional closeness. Minho’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and something softer, a vulnerability you've seen only in fleeting moments. He pulls back slightly, his hand retreating from where it had found a place around your waist.

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho mutters, his voice a low rasp tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay,” you interject quickly, your voice soft, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “We were both asleep. Things happen.”

Minho nods, his cheeks tinged with a blush that he can't hide. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck—anxious gestures that you’ve come to recognize as his way of coping with discomfort. 

Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats. Both of you glance away, then back at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory in your relationship. Finally, Minho clears his throat, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he says, his voice steady but soft. “But I can’t say I regret waking up next to someone who means so much to Minjun… and to me.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. “Minho, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho interrupts gently. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For being here, for taking care of Minjun when I couldn’t, for being more than just an assistant, more than just a friend.”

The weight of his gratitude sits between you, heavy and warm. You nod, unsure of how to articulate the jumble of feelings his proximity and his words have stirred in you. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Minho,” you manage to say. 

Minho smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, easing some of the tension. He glances at the clock, then back at you. “I guess we should get up. I promised Minjun pancakes, and I suspect he’ll be storming in soon if we don’t start cooking.”

You laugh, the sound light and freeing, breaking the last remnants of awkwardness. “Pancakes it is,” you agree, getting out of bed. You adjust your clothes, still feeling the warmth of where Minho’s arm was wrapped around you.

As you both head to the kitchen, the normalcy of the routine helps mend the morning’s awkward start. Minjun greets you both with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension from earlier, comfortably on Changbin’s lap. “Uncle Changnin is fun,” he announces, making everyone giggle at his slight mispronunciation. 

“Mhm, of course, I am,” Changbin smirks, shooting the others a glare. “Uncle Changnin is fun..unlike some others here.”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “Who wants breakfast?”

Throughout the morning, there are shared glances and shy smiles between you and Minho, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that had deepened in the most unexpected way. As you watch Minho flip pancakes, his laughter mingling with Minjun’s excited chatter, you feel a contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is more than just a job; more than just a responsibility-it’s a part of your life that you cherish deeply.

Later, as you sit together eating the slightly deformed pancakes that Minjun insists are perfect, you catch Minho’s eye, and he gives you a small, grateful smile. You'd be okay. 

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @lost-in-avoidance @moonchild9350 @spicxbnny @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1

[lainalit]

A Father's Promise

I made a post yesterday about a Darkbringer being denied to purchase sweets and toys in Velaris for his daughter. I couldn't let the Idea go so I wrote a little scene where the father comes home to his family with empty hands.

Disclaimer: English is not my native language so I apologise for any errors upfront

Edit: Story is now available on ao3 and any future chapters will be on there

______________________________________________

The thick air of the Hewn City clung to Cadell as he walked slowly through its shadowed streets, the jagged stone walls pressing in on him from all sides. The flickering faelights cast their cold, eerie glow, as the weight of the day bore down on his shoulders.

In his hand, he clutched the empty bag that should have been filled with caramel bonbons and the pink teddy bear he had promised his daughter. But it was empty—just like his heart feels now.

He had traveled to Velaris, the secret city, which not long ago only a few in the night court knew about. The city itself radiating with vivid colors, creating a striking contrast to the darkness and gloom of his home city.

Keir’s agreement with the High Lord, in which nobles and Darkbringers where allowed into the blessed city, had granted him this rare opportunity to leave the oppressive confines of this mountain, and he had hoped to bring back something special for his daughter Trina—a taste of freedom, sweetness, and warmth that felt increasingly elusive with each day they spent beneath this mountain.

As he approached the small alcove he called home, which is tucked away in a quieter, less-trodden part of the city, he hesitated.

The familiar scent of his wife’s cooking filled the air, usually a comforting reminder of home, but today it felt almost stifling. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The modest space was dimly lit by the soft glow of faelights. Enid was at the hearth, stirring a pot of stew over a small, magical flame. Her chestnut hair was tied with the silver hairpin he gifted her on their wedding day, which reflects the warm light, a stark contrast to the cold, hard stone around her.

Trina, his six-year-old, was playing nearby, her black hair that she inherited from him in pigtails as her small hands carefully arranged her few toys: a second-hand doll named Lucy with one eye missing, a stack of building blocks, and Mr. Starfall, a star-shaped plushie made from the scraps of their blue-white dotted tablecloth and named after her favorite day of the year.

“Daddy!” Trina’s voice broke through his thoughts, her eyes lighting up as she ran to him. Nearly knocking him over before he could kneel and pull her into a tight embrace.

She looked up at him with excitement, her face bright with anticipation. “Did you get the bonbons and the new friend for Lucy and Mr. Starfall?”

Cadell’s heart clenched at her words. He had promised her those things—something special and new just for her, not borrowed or second-hand. But now he had nothing.

He felt the weight of the day pressing down on him, every step back from the shops and the words spoken to him replaying in his mind as he answered his daughter, “I… I’m sorry, princess. I couldn’t get them today.”

Trina’s face fell, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looked at his hands, where he clutched the empty bag. Her voice was small, laced with confusion and hurt.

“But…you promised.”

Enid, who had been watching the exchange, set down the spoon she was using and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern.

She knew her husband well enough to see the strain in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged under a weight that he couldn’t shake. “Trina,” she called gently, her voice calm but firm, “why don’t you go pack your schoolbag for tomorrow in your room? Dinner will be ready in a minute.”

Trina hesitated, her gaze flicking between her parents. She sensed that something was wrong, though she didn’t understand what. With a reluctant nod, she turned and walked towards one of the small adjoining chambers, casting one last look over her shoulder before disappearing into the other room.

As soon as Trina was out of sight, Enid turned to her husband, her concern deepening. She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against his arm. “Cadell, what happened?”

Cadell let out a heavy sigh, standing up and running a hand through his hair, the tension in his body palpable. He felt the sting of humiliation and anger, emotions that he rarely allowed himself to dwell on but that now threatened to consume him.

“I went to five different shops, Enid. five. The first four wouldn’t even look at me. I waited and tried to get their attention, but they just ignored me like I wasn’t even there. And the last one…” He clenched his fists, his voice trembling with frustration and hurt.

“The last one, the owner saw me, made eye contact, looked at me as I was dirt under his shoe, and they…they said they don’t sell to fae of ‘our kind’.”

Enid’s heart ached at his words. She had always known their status as residents of the Hewn City made life difficult, but hearing the hurt in his voice brought the harsh reality into sharp focus. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “Honey, I’m so sorry…”

He shook his head, his jaw tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I just wanted to bring her something nice, something that would make her smile. But they wouldn’t even give me the chance. I hate that I failed her…again. Because of who I am.”

Enid tightened her hold on him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sorrow and anger. She knew all too well the cruelty of this city they call home, and it pained her to see him suffer because of it.

She had chosen Cadell precisely because he was different, because he was kind in a place where kindness was rare. And because he was not like the others—not like the male she had once been betrothed to.

Enid’s betrothal had been a match for power and influence, a union that should have secured her and her family a life of privilege in the Hewn City.

But her betrothed, a lord of considerable rank, was notorious for his torture methods, especially towards females. The stories of his cruelty had reached her ears long before their engagement was made public, the whispers of the unheard brutality had chilled her to the bone even in a place like this where the darkness inside these mountain walls was never-ending.

But then she had met Cadell, at the time a quiet novice Darkbringer with a gentle heart who conceals it behind a facade of seriousness in front of the other males.

But in the privacy within their walls, he treats her, and later, when Trina came along only with tender hands, something she had never known was possible.

She had fallen in love with him, drawn to the very qualities that lay beneath his made-up appearance. And with that realization, she could not bear the thought of marrying her betrothed; she had made a desperate decision.

She had convinced Cadell to take her virtue, knowing full well what it would mean. It was the only way to escape the fate that awaited her otherwise—a marriage to a monster who would have destroyed her.

Cadell, too, had his own scars, though his were not just emotional. He had fought in the war with Hybern, called to battle alongside the rest of the Night Court’s forces.

He had seen the horrors of war, felt the bite of steel and the crush of magic against his body. His broadsword that he wielded had saved him more than once, but it had not protected him from the memories—the screams of dying comrades, the blood-soaked fields, the weight of loss that clung to him like a second skin.

He had returned to the Hewn City a changed man, quieter, more reserved. The war had left him with a deep sense of weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of rest could erase.

And though he rarely spoke of it, Enid knew that the memories of the battlefield still haunted him with the way he rises at night to visit Trina’s room, watching over his daughter like a fallen angel poised to confront death itself if it dares to breathe in her direction.

“Honey,” Enid whispered, her voice fierce with emotion, “you are worth so much more than they will ever understand. You are a good father, a good male. We’ll explain it to Trina, in a way she can understand."

she looked at him with a small smile when she spoke, "And tomorrow… tomorrow, we’ll find another way. I’ll ask Nemain to see if she still has the soft fabric, so I can sew the teddy myself and try of dyeing it pink. For the caramel bonbons, my cousin has a butterscotch candy recipe that I can use. I simply shaped the candy into rounds instead of rectangles, so Trina wouldn’t notice the differencee."

Cadell smiled back a little while he nodded slowly, her words seeping into the cracks that the day had left in his resolve.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded in the quiet darkness of their home.

“Thank you, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Enid held him close, her head resting against his chest. For a moment, they simply stood there, drawing comfort from each other’s presence.

She knew the weight he carried, the burdens of being a lowborn Darkbringer in a world that valued power above all else. And she knew the guilt he felt, knowing that she had chosen him over the luxurious life she could have had.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, her eyes filled with the same fierce love that had driven her to choose him all those years ago.

“We’re in this together, Cadell,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

They stood in silence, holding each other closely, before parting ways as Enid headed to their daughter’s room to announce that dinner was ready, while Cadell looked to the small family portrait that stands on their living room drawer.

The Hewn City might be cold and unforgiving, but within the walls of their home, they had each other—and that was enough to keep the darkness at bay, if only for a little while longer.

[guilty-pleasures21]

The roommate

Surprise! Happy Halloween/Diwali/Dia de los muertos everyone!

Credits to @tojishugetiddies for giving me a base idea. Thanks, sweetie ☺️! 

This is just a two-parter, so I’m releasing part 1 today and then part 2 tomorrow on Halloween itself. 

Also, side note: I came up with the Optimus Prime idea before I went to watch the Transformers One movie, but I can’t recommend it enough!!! It’s SO GOOD 😭😭😭😭😭!!!

Original story

BONUS Halloween story!

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: none.

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Roommate!Miguel who walks down the stairs in his costume. 

Your neighbourhood was notorious for doing a big blowout celebration for Halloween and just like you always had, you loved dressing up for it. Your kids were old enough this year to go trick-or-treating with their friends, but you didn’t mind staying at home to hand out candy with Miguel- it gave you a chance to admire the other kids’ outfits and also left you with some alone time to get up to a little ‘trick-or-treating’ of your own with your big, strong husband … 🤭 

You rip open a packet of sweets and pour the contents into one of the large bowls in front of you and your son takes advantage of the opportunity to snatch a sweet as he walks past. You tsk at him in irritation, but Rio just shrugs and pulls out his phone as he takes a seat at the dining table. 

Roommate!Miguel who wraps his arms around your waist as he comes up behind you. 

“Need any help, querida?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting. You twist your head around to give him a smile, then snicker softly at the fake moustache you’d drawn onto his upper lip. 

You’d called him into your bathroom after finishing your own makeup, then sat him down on the chair in front of your dresser. He’d slid his hands up your thighs as you’d climbed onto his lap, his fingers squeezing and stroking you while you’d sketched the fine hairs onto his face. 

‘Miguel,’ you’d chastised him as his lips had stretched into a smile, ‘try not to smile so much.’

He’d grinned at your soft laughter and moved his hands up to your waist. 

‘I can’t help it, querida,’ he’d told you apologetically. ‘Why didn’t you just let me grow my own moustache?'

‘Because,’ you’d argued, getting back to work, ‘you’d look like a creep. And it would be annoying to kiss you.’

He’d snuck his fingers beneath your shirt and began running them across your skin as you’d continued and soon, your costume prep time had turned into a full-on makeout session with your sweet and sexy husband. 

Roommate!Miguel who steals a sweet out of the bowl as well. 

Your jaw drops in surprise and you glare at him as he walks around the kitchen island to take a seat in front of you. 

“Like father, like son,” you grumble, shaking your head in disapproval as you tear open another bag of sweets. “If I ask the two of you for help, you’ll probably finish all the sweets on your own.” 

Miguel glances over at his son in question, but Rio just shoots him the same confused look he was sure was on his own face. “!Papà!” 

Miguel looks up as your youngest son barrels down the stairs, a look of alarm on his little face. 

“¡Ten cuidado, pollito! (Be careful!)” Miguel warns him, holding his hands out as Rafael races towards him. His son slows down a little, but his body still buzzes with panic.

“!Papà! The lights aren’t working! Fix it!” 

Roommate!Miguel whose lips twitch with amusement at his son’s demand. 

He’d helped him attach the optical-fibre cables running through his Optimus Prime costume a few days ago, but something seemed to have gone wrong in the meantime. Miguel turns Rafael around and examines the cables, finding the problem easily. He reattaches the loose wire and turns the switch on, causing the costume to light up as they had intended. 

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, bouncing with excitement. “¡Gracías, Papà!” 

He gives his dad a quick hug, then dashes back up to his room without another word. 

“Rio?” you call. “What time are your friends getting here?”

Rio checks his phone again for any new messages. “They said they should be here in about ten minutes. They’re picking up Danny first.”

“Who’s he dressed as?” Miguel asks, trying to find a way to steal another sweet from one of the bowls. Rio grins and sets his phone aside. 

“Daphne,” he reveals delightedly. “He got his mum to help him alter his skirt and everything! I think he’s going to steal his sister’s heels, but Shawn said he’s going to bring a spare pair of sneakers in case his feet start to hurt.”

His friends had decided to dress up at the Scooby Doo gang and though your son looked the polar opposite of the pale-skinned, blond-haired all-American golden boy, they’d still chosen him to play Fred thanks to the good looks he’d inherited from you and Miguel.

Roommate!Miguel who turns to the door when one of your neighbours pops her head in and calls out to you. 

“Hi everyone!” Sana begins, trying to keep the group of eleven-year-olds behind her at bay. “Is Rafael ready?” 

The woman had moved to your neighbourhood last year with her husband and two sons - the oldest of whom had quickly become good friends with your youngest. She was tall and thin with dark hair that always looked like she’d just come from the salon. Miguel stands and calls up the stairs for Rafa to come down and you don’t miss the way Sana’s eyes travel down your husband’s broad back. 

“Rafa! Rashid is here!” Miguel turns to shoot her an amused look as Rafa scurries back down the stairs and Sana returns it with a practised smile of her own. You lower your head to hide the way your eyes roll, then bend over to give your son a hug. 

“Bye, mami, love you!” Rafa recites before running around the island to tell the same to his dad. 

“Bye, bebito! ¡Te amo, mi solito!” you call after him as he disappears out the door with his friends. Miguel yells the same, then sits back down again.

Roommate!Miguel who jumps up again when he sees his daughter coming down the stairs. 

“Gabriella?!” he exclaims, unsure whether to be angry or terrified. “¡¿Qué diablos estás llevas?! (What the hell are you wearing?!)” 

Gabi stops and stares back at her father with his same deep-set, upturned eyes. 

“It’s my costume,” she replies, folding her arms across the tight shirt she’d put on over a pair of rolled-up shorts and a set of outrageously inappropriate fishnet stockings.

“What are you supposed to be?” Rio asks, narrowing his eyes in thought as he puzzles over his sister’s ‘costume’. You move to stand beside your husband and your features melt into a frown when you see what your daughter intends to leave the house in. 

“A witch?” Gabriella replies, gesturing to her pointed hat as if it should have been obvious. You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow at her. 

“I thought witches were supposed to look scary?” you muse out loud. “Not like a teenage boy's wet dream.”

“¡Mamà!” Gabi screeches in horror at the same time that Rio groans, “¡Ay, mami! ¡Por amor de Dios! (For the love of God!)”

You shrug, unbothered by your children’s complaints. “If you're embarrassed to hear me say it, you should be embarrassed to let me see it. Who's the boy?”

Gabi furrows her brow in confusion. “What boy?”

“The boy you’re trying to impress with this outfit?” you reply. “Which you should never be doing, by the way: that’s a red flag. The guy should always be trying to impress you.”

Roommate!Miguel whose eyebrows shoot up at your words. 

He thinks back to the time before you’d started dating, trying to recall if he’d worked to impress you any more than you had. Maybe you were right: he could remember doing a few extra reps every time you’d joined him in the gym and he had shown off a little whenever you guys had studied together in the library or your shared living room. And there was that time he’d learned how to make your favourite dish so he could see the adorable smile that would light up your features when you came home to it after class. Ay, mierda. Maybe he really had always been trying to impress you. 

“There’s no guy, mami,” Gabi sighs, rolling her eyes at your implication. You fix your daughter with a challenging look and she finally starts feeling self-conscious. 

“There isn’t!” she insists, shifting awkwardly in position. “It’s just … Everyone else my age dresses up like this now!”

You turn to Rio in question. “Rio? Does everyone in Gabi’s year dress up like this?” 

“We wear school uniforms, mamà,” Rio replies exasperatedly, not wanting to be dragged into the conversation. 

“Outside of school?” you question, mimicking his sarcastic tone. Rio shrugs and glances at his phone again. 

“I dunno,” he replies, coolly “I don't go around looking at fourteen-year-olds outside of school.”

“Right answer …” Miguel supposes, confused by his son’s response. “Wrong situation.” 

You let your hands fall back to your sides, then you start walking up the stairs towards Gabriella. 

“Wait.” You stop suddenly and quickly return to the kitchen to grab the bowl of candy. Gabi furrows her brows at you, but holds a hand out to help you. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, helping you carry the bowls up to her room.

“I am making sure your brother stays healthy and your father stays hot,” you reply, prompting a wince out of your daughter. 

“Why do I keep asking you questions I know I don't want to hear the answers to?”

“Because you're your father's daughter.” 

Roommate!Miguel whose entire body warms at your words. 

How could you still call him ‘hot’, even after all this time? After seventeen years of marriage and three kids? Rio jumps up as the sound of his friends’ voices float through the doorway. 

“Bye, mami! Bye, Gabi!” he calls up the stairs, prompting you to rush out of his sister’s room and back down the stairs. 

“Wait! Let me see your costumes!” you screech excitedly, gesturing for Miguel to get your phone. He grabs it from the kitchen island and turns on the camera as he joins you. “Oh my god! You boys look so good!” 

You lean over to look at the photos he’s taken and Miguel wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Thanks, Mrs O’Hara,” Nick replies, flicking his shaggy wig out of his eyes. He takes in your costume: a long-sleeved black dress that exposes your collarbone and clings to your figure. “You look good too! The Addams family?” 

He shoots you a cheeky wink and Miguel pulls you a little closer into his side. 

“This is why I don’t invite you guys over anymore,” Rio says, smacking his friend on the back of the head. 

“Oh my god!” Gabi squeals, joining the two of you on the porch. “You guys look amazing!” 

“You look,” Shawn begins excitedly, his features lighting up when he sees Gabi. He pauses quickly, calming himself down so he doesn’t come across as too eager, then he finishes coolly, “nice too.” 

Gabriella smiles, oblivious to Shawn’s sudden shyness in her presence. “Thanks! My mum helped me!” 

Roommate!Miguel who breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his daughter’s new outfit. 

You’d made her roll her shorts back down to her mid-thighs and gotten rid of the fishnet stockings beneath. Then you’d switched her two-sizes-too-small shirt to an oversized black band tee you’d tucked into her shorts and rolled up the sleeves of. Finally, you’d clipped a section of her hair back, revealing her kohl-lined eyes, cherry red lips and two small fangs that peeked out from between her lips whenever she smiled. 

“Whoa, are you … shining, honeybee?” Danny asks, squinting to check that he was seeing right. Gabi frowns at the nickname, but holds her arms out for everyone to see. 

“Yup!” she confirms delightedly. “But it’s a secret.” 

“Hey, bee!” Mayday calls, walking through their gate in almost the exact same outfit Gabriella had had on earlier. “Are you- Oh! Hi, Rio …”

Rio grimaces as she lowers her head, letting her curly hair fall over her shy smile. You press your lips together as Miguel digs his fingers into your side and reach up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. It was pretty obvious that his best friend’s daughter had a crush on your oldest son, but your husband had insisted time and time again that though he loved Peter, he did not want to become his brother-in-law. 

‘I don’t think that’s how it works, cariño,’ you’d supposed, amused by your husband’s horror at the very prospect. 

‘Good,’ Miguel had responded firmly. ‘I don’t want it to work.’

“Bye, guys!” Rio exclaims, pushing his friends out the gate before Mayday could say anything more.

“Bye, papito! ¡Te amo!” you call after him quickly. Mayday waves at the group as they rush past, then she jogs over to her best friend. 

“Wow! Nice dress, Aunty X! And you look really good in that suit, Uncle Miguel! Oh my god!” She stops suddenly when she notices Gabriella’s outfit. “You look so good, Gabi! How did you …?” 

“My mum helped,” she explains, pulling her friend in the house behind her. “Come on! I’ll help you get changed, then we can still match!”

Continue

Tags: @sukunash0e @safixiovi @amberbalcom14 @shack-wheel-oneal

[daengtokki]

⋆꙳Under the Tree

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: ~2.5k

rating: mature, explicit (oral sex), fluff ಇ

comments: more holiday activities as requested by @goblinracha a few weeks ago! This time it’s a oneshot within the Blind Date universe (@myseungsungheart !). It started out as simple romantic fluff, but slowly transformed into what I felt like doing to Seungmin today ¯\_( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ )_/ uuhh I didn’t proofread very well

⋆꙳•❅*ִ

You watch as Seungmin’s face is lit up—first in a warm white glow, then in red and green and blue. Then back again to warm white.

“Choose one for tonight,” you pick up one of the ornaments from his box and search for a good spot on the tree, “we can change it next time.”

“I don’t know which one I like more.” He switches it back to the multi-colored lights and takes a few steps back. Then he walks back and pulls the curtain open. “The colors are more fun…buuut…which do you prefer?”

“I like the colored lights.”

“Okay, we will keep the colors on tonight.”

Seungmin digs around in the box and pulls out two star shaped ornaments. He finds a branch for his, hands you the other, and watches you closely as you search for a spot.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He smiles and tilts his head to one side.

“Like I’m gonna put it in the wrong spot…”

“Wherever you put it is perfect.”

You keep your eyes on him as he stares at the tree, then at the gifts already placed under it. There aren’t many, and what is there is small—but it’s what the two of you have gotten for each other. And you’ll have to open them soon…early.

Then he looks at you.

“I should be the one looking like a sad puppy,” you grab his arm and pull him toward you, “what’s wrong, Minnie?”

Seungmin smiles at that, but you can tell it’s forced. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes you tight, “I’m not ready to leave tomorrow.”

“I know. It doesn’t get easier.”

It’s been over a year of this; the reality of being his biggest secret, of nobody knowing you exist (a few people know, so you’re not a complete secret anymore), Seungmin coming and going—mostly going. It’s just the way things are. It’s your normal.

He sighs, “it’s gotten harder.”

Your hold on his waist tightens, and your heart jumps to your throat. Whether or not this would even work was something only time would reveal, but everything has been good. You didn’t expect everything to always be good, because things are never that easy, but the two of you have never argued over anything. There is never tension when you’re together.

Being apart so much and so often means that the relationship always feels brand new. Seeing him is excitement and relief all mixed together—it feels like a piece of you that’s been missing has clicked back into place for a while.

But you don’t always know what’s going through Seungmin’s head, either. He talks, and he tells you things, but he’s still quiet sometimes—and exhausted when he’s here with you.

You pull back and look up at him, “harder?”

Seungmin nods, but his head tilts again when you keep looking at him with his puppy eyes.

“Like, you don’t think you can keep doing it…harder?”

His eyes widen, but he takes a second to think and put your words together, “oh, no…no I don’t mean it like that.”

He places a kiss on your forehead. You let out the breath you were holding and shove your face into his chest.

“Harder to leave you when I’m here, that’s what I meant...”

“You’ll keep doing it?”

“I never thought about stopping.” Seungmin lets go of you, reluctantly, and lowers himself next to the gifts. It’s still too early to open them, but he’s shuffling a few of the small ones around.

“I’ll get a big bow to put on you, and I won’t need anything else.”

He looks up at you, eyes big, bottom lip stuck out in a pout. It turns into a smile, and he reaches a hand up to you.

You take it and let him pull you down next to him. “It’s too early for gifts…and I’m not done yet.”

“Just one…we can save the rest,” he picks one up and hands it to you. It’s wrapped in pink striped paper, and you can tell he did this one himself. The tag says your name, written out in Hangul, with a very carefully drawn puppy face beneath it.

Before opening it, you pull the tag off. It’s too cute to throw away. Seungmin laughs and moves a little closer. Underneath the paper is a white box—you assume a jewelry box. And when you open it and peek in (he tries to peek with you, even though he knows what’s in there), the light from the tree bounces off the gold.

“It’s okay if you don’t—“ You give him a look before he finishes. He closes his mouth and smiles, then finishes anyway, “…like it.”

A gold chain lays over your hand, just as thin and delicate as the bracelet you gave him last year. Hanging on the end is a dainty charm, small enough that you have to hold it a little closer to get a good look at it.

“Oh, it’s a little lock!” You hold it up so it swings back and forth between the two of you. “It’s so tiny and sweet.”

He grabs it, unclasps it, and leans forward to put it around your neck. “I can get you a longer chain if you’d like.”

“No, this is perfect…everyone can see it here.” You run your hand across your throat and hold the little charm. “Thank you.”

Seungmin is still hovering over you, his eyes moving from the necklace…up your neck, to your face. They jump between your eyes and lips as he closes in and finds a spot to start kissing. He holds himself back, though, only leaving a few along your cheek and lips. “So you like it?”

“I love it, Minnie. And you.” His hand grabs for yours, so you bring it to your lips and kiss along his fingers. “It’s my turn.”

He watches eagerly as you look at each of the small gifts you’ve already wrapped for him. You can hear him talking excitedly under his breath, which one, which one? while he swings your arm back and forth.

“It’s not easy finding you a gift,” you say and reach for one of the larger boxes.

“Why is that?”

“You have so much stuff, and you can get anything you want. I thought about getting us baseball tickets, but we can’t go together.”

The bow slides off next to him, “I prefer watching here with you anyway,” he pops the lid off, “oh!” Seungmin pulls it out a little and looks at it, then a little more. His eyes are big and round as he takes it out and holds it up in front of him. “Did you make this?”

It’s been a while since you’ve seen his smile so big. The joy coming from him is palpable and you can feel your face warm up and probably turn pink. You weren’t sure how he’d receive this, or any of his gifts. Birthdays are easy, but this is your first real Christmas together. “I did. Hopefully it’s not too big, or too small.”

“You made this whole thing?” He’s still staring at it, piece by piece—looking at each button, pulling the sleeves out and looking at the subtly colored stripes running down them. He flips up the hood and grabs the two ears on top and laughs, “even the little ears?”

When he looks at you again, you nod. He undoes a button and pulls it over his head, “it’s perfect,” he pulls up the hood and grabs the ears again. “I can take you everywhere with me now, when I wear it.”

“Aww Minnie, shut up…that’s cute.”

He pulls you onto his lap and kisses across your shoulder, squeezes you tight. “It’s true. You made all the little stitches, you worked so hard,” His hand slides under your sweatshirt—lips, still smiling, drag across your ear, “you worked so hard to keep me warm.”

“You’re worth all of my time, pup.”

“That’s so—“

“Yeah, corny, I know.”

Now he has both of his hands on your bare skin, moving in circles, and giving you goosebumps. “I was going to say romantic.” He finds a spot near your shoulder and kneads into the muscle. The pressure makes you moan, and it makes Seungmin perk up.

Your hand reaches under his layers of clothes and searches for skin. His stomach is tight and warm against your fingertips, and he breathes out a little laugh as he closes in on your lips.

It’s only been a few hours since he got home, and aside from hugging him tightly as he came through the door and kissing everywhere on his face, this is the first you’ve really touched each other. Every night together ends up like this, though, because when he’s here, you can never have him close enough. And Seungmin, who you know loves you, can’t always get the words out right. He shows his affection in many different ways, and when you’re together like this, he shows it well.

So it’s just a matter of when and where and who will initiate. Tonight it’s both of you—but mostly you, because your hand moves down from his stomach and disappears beneath his sweatpants.

Seungmin leans back and rests on one hand so he can watch your hand move under the fabric. You kiss at his smile until he opens up and lets you in.

“Right here under the tree?” Seungmin laughs and goes right back to kissing. His legs open and he gets you in between them.

The two of you have had sex on almost every surface in the apartment, but never on the floor, and you don’t really want to start now.

Seungmin feels your head shake back and forth and sits himself up. He doesn’t stop your hand, though. And you don’t stop either. He pulls at his sweatpants until he can see the steady up and down of your hand. He’s already painfully hard, and he wants to come.

He pulls his sweater over his head and sets it back neatly in its box.

You smile at him before bending and slowly running your tongue over his head, and his moan is soft and sweet. One arm comes forward and his hand caresses your cheek, then your ear, until he can wrap his hand around the back of your neck.

His fingers knead into you, gently, and with no intention of forcing you down. Seungmin never forces himself in, unless he’s on top and you want him to.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod and grab a thigh, and when you’re ready, you take him in your mouth as far as you can manage.

His moan makes your skin prickle, and a shiver runs down your body. You can feel heat collecting in your stomach, swirling, dropping down into your thighs and making your legs shake. You grip his thigh harder, digging your fingers in. He doesn’t flinch. Your mouth grips him tight as you pull back out, run your tongue around his head, and suck him right back in.

When you find your rhythm and get comfortable, you work on him even faster. He’s speaking softly between moans, rubbing your neck as you take him in and out, over and over, stopping only to take a breath and stroke him.

You look at him when your hands take over. He’s trying hard to maintain the eye contact, but both hands working him makes it nearly impossible. His eyes squeeze shut, then open again. He whimpers, his hips twitch. He starts to buck up into your hands, wanting to take some control back and reach his climax, but you don’t want him to finish yet.

Your grip softens and your hands slow down.

“No no…” he pulls you closer, squeezes your neck harder. “Don’t stop babe.”

You run your lips over him, leave kisses, lick.

Seungmin whimpers and when you look at him again, his face is desperate. He’s pouting and panting, moving his hips, hoping you’ll take mercy on him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” your hand strokes him again, softer than before, but enough to make his hips jerk with pleasure. “I want you to enjoy it.”

“I am,” his lips twitch, and a smile slowly forms.

“…for as long as possible.”

Seungmin licks his lips and nods. “I don’t think I’ll last long.” His nod turns into a head shake and his laugh is a little pained. He wants to come.

You continue your slow, hard strokes. One hand on his cock, the other pushing gently on his hip to keep him still.

His breathing is heavy and ragged; the sweet, soft noises become deep and uninhibited.

You speed up—his moaning is making it hard for you to stay in control. But you want to hear him, and you want him to lose himself in it a little more.

When he tries to speak again, it’s no more than a whisper. You look at him and lean forward, then give him a questioning look. On his second try you catch the word mouth, and you fill in the rest.

“You want my mouth?” You tease him, leaning forward a bit to lick, but your hand continues doing the work. “And my tongue?”

Seungmin nods slowly, mouth back in a pout. He keeps his eyes fixed on you; they’re wide open and taking in as much as they can in the dim light of the tree. He’s furrowing his brow with every stroke, trying desperately to hold on a little longer.

“You want to come in my mouth?”

“Yes please,” he answers without a thought, and his hips lift despite your hand still holding him down. “Swallow it all for me.”

“Okay okay…you win.”

He sighs and relaxes.

Your mouth closes around him, sucking gently at first, circling him with your tongue and finding his most sensitive spots. He pushes his hips toward you, but he’s careful not to force more of himself in. His hand is on you again; on your back, across your neck, your shoulder.

He’s touching and grabbing, hoping to ground himself for the inevitable.

Once your hand begins to stroke him again, his breathing becomes uneven. A sound gets caught in his throat. You take as much of him as you can and when you moan and hum, it sets him off. His hips lift again and his fingers grip you hard.

The sound he makes rings in your ears, his body tenses up, and he fills your mouth. You were ready for it, but some still escapes. It catches on your hand as you slowly, gently stroke upward, swallow, and lick what remains on your fingers. You take him in your mouth once more to clean him off.

Seungmin is spent, mouth open, chest heaving. He looks like he wants to fall backward on the floor, but he holds himself there until you finish. He lets out a laugh, lazy and full of relief, and pushes his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m expecting more later.” You lean forward and kiss him there.

He laughs again—his eyes and face soften as he watches you adjust and smooth out your sweatshirt. “You look so pretty in the lights,” he sits up and pulls you back for another kiss.

[sweetcheeksschemmenti]

Red Rover, Red Rover Pt. 2

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem Reader

Summary: You convince your wife, Melissa, to take in a stray dog until you can find its owner. She reluctantly agrees, reminding you that the pup will end up in the pound if no one comes forward. Spoiler: The dog doesn’t go to the pound.

No warnings apply!

You pretended not to notice your wife become gradually attached to her dog twin over the course of the week. The pup followed Melissa around like a shadow and the two of them quickly became inseparable. On your evening walks, she would insist on stopping at the park so ‘pipsqueak’ could sniff around and meet other neighborhood dogs. And every time your cell phone rang, she held her breath hoping it wasn’t about the dog.

During lunch, Jacob received a phone call from an unknown number and he answered it without hesitation.

“Jacob speaking, how can I help you?”

You watched his face fall a little and you reached for your wife’s hand. That was it, your time with the pup was coming to an end. “Oh, um yeah. We can definitely do that, would tomorrow work?” He looked to the two of you with the question and you nodded. Melissa squeezed your hand and gave you a sad smile. “Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow morning then. Thank you, bye.” He slid his phone into his pocket and sighed.

“She’s going home tomorrow isn’t she,” Melissa asked quietly.

“Sounds like it. I’m sorry, baby,” you rubbed her hand with your own.

“Don’t know why you’re sorry, told ya we weren’t keeping her anyway.” She snapped, standing as and gathered her things before heading to her classroom to sulk in private. You went to follow her but Barbara stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, shaking her head. You knew Melissa needed time to herself to be sad, but it was hard to give her that when all you wanted to do was hold her and take away that hurt. She always took pride in putting up a tough front so your heart broke any time that front fell.

You spent the rest of your lunch break poking at your food, thinking of ways to convince the pup’s family to give your wife visitation rights. Melissa kept to herself until the car ride home later that afternoon when she apologized for how she spoke to you. You were quick to forgive her, knowing how out of character it was for her to be even the slightest bit mean to you.

When you arrived at home, Little Red greeted the two of you at the door with excited kisses and a tail wagging so fast she could have taken flight. Melissa sat on the floor to enjoy what little time she had left with the pipsqueak while you went upstairs to change before starting dinner. The pair left for their evening walk as you placed the casserole in the oven.

About an hour later, they returned and joined you in the kitchen. You fed the pup her dinner and grabbed two plates from the cabinet to dish out your own. “How was your walk, baby,” you asked as she snaked her arms around your waist and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Bittersweet. I’m gonna miss her,” she admitted as she reached for the glasses of water on the counter. “You and your damned puppy dog eyes, shoulda never agreed to take her in,” she teased.

You followed her into the dining room and placed her plate in front of her. You both sat down and began to dig into the meal. A few moments of silence later, you mentioned the idea of going to the shelter to pick out another dog to love once Little Red went home. She thought about it but shook her head, “Nah, there’s just something about this one. It’s like she chose us or somethin’. Don’t worry about it, hon. I’ll be okay. You’re all I need.” She blew you a kiss from across the table before sneaking a green bean under the table for her friend.

Once the plates were cleared and cleaned, Melissa and her shadow followed you to the couch. The rest of the evening was quiet as you enjoyed a series of rom-coms with your wife’s head in your lap and the pup tucked safely in the crook of her knees. Eventually, Melissa’s soft snores synced with the dog’s and you knew it was time to retire to bed. Gently, you prodded her up and turned off the television. You shared a yawn before reaching for her to hold your hand as you made your way up to your room, pipsqueak hot on your heels. Before either of you were able to turn down the covers, Little Red jumped up and laid at the foot of the bed, her spot, and looked between you two expectantly for her good night kisses. You both let out a sad sigh, she was already used to your routine, it would be so hard to let her go. With smooches given, the two of you climbed into bed. You snuggled into your own spot, head on Melissa’s chest and whispered, “I’m gonna miss her too.”

Melissa let you sleep in the next morning while she took the dog out for one last walk. When they returned, she let Little Red jump onto the bed to wake you up. You blinked your eyes open and giggled at the excitement she had in seeing you. Moments later, your wife sat by your side and brushed your hair from your face as she pulled the pup off of you.

“They’ll be here soon, hon, maybe twenty minutes. Made you a breakfast sandwich, it’s on the dresser. We’ll be in the backyard playing if you wanna join us when you’re done.” You nodded and thanked her as she left to let you get ready for the day. You ate your sandwich fairly quickly and rinsed off in the shower. You knew there’d be tears, so you opted for minimal makeup and made it to the backyard with minutes to spare before the dog’s family arrived.

You got the call that they’d arrived and you greeted them at the door before leading them to the backyard. They introduced themselves as Ginny and Tom, they were an older couple who didn’t seem to be overly emotional about being reunited with their dog.

“Here she is, we’ve taken the best care of her for ya,” you told the couple as you opened the screen door for them.

“Looks like it, she’s never looked so happy,” Ginny commented and she watched the pup play with your wife. She watched for a while as they played fetch before her husband called for the dog.

“Coco! Come here, Coco!” He clapped his hands and the dog looked up at the couple. She wagged her tail at them and dropped her ball at Melissa’s feet, waiting for her to throw it again.

The gentleman frowned a little and looked at his wife. She shouted, “Coco! Coco! You want a cookie?” The pup cocked her head at the word ‘cookie’ but didn’t budge. Melissa picked her up and walked over to the couple. Coco didn’t seem too impressed with them and tried with all her might to get down when Melissa handed her over.

“You sure she’s your dog,” Melissa joked and the pup hid behind her.

Ginny wiped a single tear from her cheek. “She was my mother’s. Mom passed away almost two weeks ago now. We brought her home with us, but she escaped the second day. Coco has never really been fond of us, but we promised we’d give her a good home.” Tom rubbed her back and pulled her to the side to take a moment to collect herself as she started to cry.

You and Melissa gave them some privacy while you continued to love on the dog and chase each other around the tree playing peek-a-boo. The older couple watched from the patio and whispered back and forth to each other for a while before waving you over. Your wife joined you, arm wrapped around your waist.

Ginny nodded at Tom before he spoke. “How would you two feel about keeping her? The three of you seem so happy together, and we’d be keeping our promise to Ginny’s mom. I just don’t think Coco would be content living wit-“

“Yes,” you both responded simultaneously, squeezing each other slightly. “We love her so much already. We would be delighted!”

The couple smiled wide and chuckled at the enthusiasm. “She’s all yours. You have our number, just keep us updated on her if you don’t mind. Maybe send a few pictures from time to time? My mother would want me to keep tabs on her little one, she loved her just as much as Coco loves you.” Ginny knelt down to say her goodbyes to the pup and was met with a sloppy kiss, like Coco was saying thank you.

Melissa thanked the couple profusely as she walked them to the door and promised to send updates and pictures periodically. Once the door closed, you pulled your wife into a tight embrace and let out a sigh of relief. Neither of you could believe the outcome. You were officially dog parents!

Your wife picked Coco up and brought her over for a group hug, the pup licked both of your faces. You plopped yourself down on the couch and Coco jumped up onto your lap, she knew she was home. Melissa sat next to you, beaming ear to ear.

“Well, now we gotta give her a name, we can’t just keep calling her ‘the dog’, ‘little red’ and ‘pipsqueak’. She deserves a proper name. I was thinking maybe Harper, or Georgia? Coco just does not fit her.”

Melissa was quiet for a moment before leaning her head on your shoulder. “What about Penny? Like, a Penny lost is a Penny found? Or Pennies from Heaven… Penny for your thoughts?”

Your jaw dropped in false surprise, “You’ve really put some thought into this haven’t you?”

“I may or may not have secretly been calling her Penny since we brought her home,” she said as she bit her lip. You tilted your head back in laughter. Of course Melissa already had a name for her. It made perfect sense.

“Damn! She stole your heart faster than I did. She’s your baby, so Penny it is!” Penny responded to her name with a head tilt and tail wag, she knew it already.

Melissa nuzzled her head into your neck. “/You’re/ my baby. Penny is /our/ baby. You’ll always be number one in my heart, hon.”

You rested your head on top of hers. “I’m not jealous of a dog, Mel,” you teased.

“No, I know. I just wanted to remind you.”

With butterflies in your stomach, you ran your fingers through her hair. After all these years she still had that affect on you. “Thank you, darling. You’ll always be number one in mine, too.” A few beats later you added, “unless Penny magically decides I’m her favorite. Then you’ll be booted to two,” you joked, earning you a playful smack on the arm from your wife.

“Yeah, right!”

The little red rover found her forever family.

[beautification-tales]

The Sisters pt. 1

A late Bloomer tale

The sisterhood were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Stacey in her usual white crop top and tight jeans. She had a scowl on her face as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Becky and Ruby were holding hands and giggling. Becky’s black yoga pants and top exposed her impressive abs that Ruby’s red fingernail free hand was caressing. Stacey rolled her eyes at the display. Becky caressed Ruby’s hosiery covered thigh as they were so close to making out. “Ugh get a room you two!” Stacey exclaimed, causing Ruby to break out into a fit of giggles.

“I know that I’m Bi now but women really do it for me now.” Becky confessed, looking down at Ruby’s body. Ruby leaned in, a hungry look on her face. "Maybe because they always did it for you?” she asked with a sly grin. Stacey rolled her eyes and snorted. "Ugh can we hold off on humping anyone until our fearless leader shows up?” she asked, gesturing to the door.

As if on cue Marsha walked in. The bright orange hair and lips caught the eye of everyone as she walked to her usual spot. She wore the least revealing clothes of the group as she actually dressed casually. Stacy leaned forward as Marsha sat down. “Well? What news from on high?” she asked sarcastically. Marsha looked at the three girls then smiled. “We all meet her tomorrow for the next phase of her plan.” she replied, her voice hushed.

Ruby and Becky squealed with excitement. “Ooh I can’t wait!” Ruby exclaimed. Becky nodded in agreement. Stacey rolled her eyes. She was still annoyed at the restrictions that were placed on her since the incident at Peter’s. “Tonight! Tonight we feast. She said she wanted us at full energy for our meeting.” Marsha announced. Ruby clapped her hands together. "Oh! There is cute Professor that I’ve been meaning to seduce. He should be delicious!” Becky stopped touching Ruby. “Aww so what am I supposed to do?” Becky whined. Stacey snorted. "Well you can always go after one of the TA's. They're always easy meat." she joked.

Marsha

“Or you could get your real revenge… on Traci.” Stacey suggested. Becky’s eyes glowed as she licked her lips and inhaled. “That’s a great idea… thanks Stace.” Stacey stared right at Marsha “Anything for a sister.” There was a moment of silence as Marsha and Stacey glared at each other. “I guess… I’ll just consume a frat… how boring.” Stacey sighed. Ruby giggled.

“No, I talked with our maker and we agreed. We want you at your best Stacey. Peter’s all yours.” Marsha said with a knowing smirk. Stacey gasped as she felt her breasts fill with milk. Stacey’s eyes glowed as she felt her panties soak at the thought of having Peter again. “Oh thank you! Thank you!” Stacey got up and hugged Marsha tight. “Anything for a sister.” They both giggled.

Becky’s Story-

Becky watched as Stacey and Marsha hugged as the tension between them evaporated. Becky didn’t know the full story but apparently Stacey was obsessed with her former bully and Marsha didn’t approve. The girls all said goodbye to each other as Becky walked to her former best friend’s dorm room.

Stacey

Becky felt the butterflies in her stomach as she never confronted or really talked to Traci since she caught her with Bill. They grew up together and shared everything except for boys. The code was clear between them and Traci had broken it.

Becky transformed into her normal body and knocked on Traci’s door. “Go away!” Traci yelled through the door. “It’s me Becky, Trace.” Becky said in her most innocent voice. There was a long pause, then Traci unlocked the door. When she opened it, she was wearing a big sweatshirt and still had tears in her eyes. “I’m sure you came to gloat didn’t you?” Becky was surprised when Traci hugged her and brought her in. “I fucking missed you Becks. I.. I fucked up. I ruined our friendship over a guy and and… he cheated on me. I’m so sorry…. Please I need you. Please forgive me…. You’re all I have now.”

Becky gritted her teeth. She wanted to unleash the rage she had from the betrayal. Traci’s genuine tears touched Becky’s heart. “I don’t know Traci. You were my best friend! I loved you and what you did still hurts. The worst part … is if you just told me. If you said you wanted Bill. I would have broken up with him for us.” Traci’s tears kept flowing as she looked at her best friend. “It wasn’t fair though. All the boys wanted me over you. I wanted you to know how it felt to be wanted.” Traci grabbed Becky’s hand. “I wanted you so see how beautiful you really are. I should have just told you that.”

Ruby

Becky wiped the tears from her own eyes. “Yeah you should have. I met some new friends and the helped me see that.” Becky looked at Traci and laughed. “I actually did come here to gloat and rip you a new one.” Traci wiped her tears and smiled. “I fucking deserve it. Weird thing is the woman that Bill was fucking said ‘Karma’s a bitch’”. Becky gulped remembering she did say that. “She did?” Traci nodded. Becky sighed. She didn't want to see Traci hurt anymore. She wanted her best friend back. But she couldn’t let her know the truth at least not yet.

“Yeah, I took Bill from you and that Amazon bitch took Bill from me.” Traci looked up at Becky. Becky’s lip quivered as she asked for clarification. “Amazon?” Traci nodded. Becky sat down on the bed right next to Traci. “Yeah, I never saw a woman as hot as her. If she wasn’t the bitch that stole my man…. I would totally follow her IG and see how she slayed in a bikini. You … ok Becky?” Traci asked her friend.

Becky’s eyes fluttered as she felt herself get really warm. Traci’s compliments of her succubus form was arousing her. Becky could feel the sexual energy growing inside. It was if her succubus was wanting to transform. “Uhm I’m ok Traci… keep telling your story.” Becky eyes her friend with a hunger she never displayed before.

“Well yeah imagine Meg the Stallion times ten. I know Bill was loving it as he was throbbing. I know this is TMI but even though I was horrified. I felt myself getting wet… because of her.” Becky’s nipples hardened hearing her friend describe her. “She was fucking irresistible wasn’t she?” Becky gasped as she felt her breasts get heavier in her chest.

“Well.. yeah she actually…said something like that. “ Traci pushed away from her friend. “Do… do you know her Becky?” Traci looked at her friend as her eyes had rolled back. Becky inhaled hard trying to control the pleasure and sexual energy tidal wave that was washing over her. “You could say something like that ahhhh!” The dam broke as all of Becky’s succubus energy overwhelmed her as purple flame surrounded her body. Becky’s breasts increased in size as her muffin top evaporated. The unflattering sweats vanished as Becky was now in her true succubus form. Becky caressed her amazing curves as she moaned gleefully as if freed from a prison. Becky opened her eyes and looked at her tight bikini that left little to the imagination.

Becky

Traci stood up in shock. “It was you?!” she asked in disbelief. Becky smiled, her perfect white teeth behind the juicy thick lips. “You really have a way with words Trace. It really brings out the best in a girl… no?” Becky arched her back taking a sexual pose as she played with her long black hair.

Traci’s heart was pounding in her chest. The mixed emotions of fear, surprise and arousal were all present within her. “You fucked Bill? What…what are you?” Traci backed away from Becky as she continued to take poses on the bed.

“Mmmm I’m a succubus baby. I wanted revenge for you both hurting me. So I took it.”

“What do you want now?” Traci asked, her voice quivering with fear and a hint of arousal. Becky stopped posing and began walking to Traci. “You said you wanted me to know how it felt to be beautiful and wanted. Traci… it feels fucking fantastic.” Becky was right in front of Traci, her taller form a head higher now making Traci look up. “You’re here for more revenge aren’t you?” Traci gulped.

“Mmmhmm you see… I’m too fucking sexy to resist.” Becky said as she pulled Traci in for a kiss. Her succubus powers overwhelmed Traci as she found herself melting into the kiss. Her body felt like it was on fire as she pressed herself against Becky. The two women kissed deeply, their tongues dancing together.

As they broke apart, Becky whispered in Traci's ear, "You're gonna love this." She grabbed at Traci’s waist and quickly pulled her sweatshirt off, letting her perfect breasts free. "Oh my god Traci, you're so beautiful." Becky cupped her hands around her friend's breasts, squeezing them gently before taking one nipple into her mouth and sucking on it hungrily. Traci moaned loudly, arching her back as she felt an unfamiliar pleasure course through her veins.

“Oh my God! Becky! Mmm” Traci moaned as she wrapped her hands around her friend's head, feeling the incredible sensations building in her chest. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into Becky's mouth, wanting more of the delicious pleasure.

Becky released her nipple with a pop and moved to Traci's other breast, taking the waiting nipple into her mouth. Traci gasped as she felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, making her limbs weak. She reached down, gripping the hem of her sweatpants, desperate to feel more. She couldn’t understand why this felt so right.

"Oh fuck yeah Traci," Becky moaned, her words vibrating against her skin. "You taste so good." Traci arched her back even further, pressing her chest into Becky's face. Her hips began to move involuntarily, grinding against her friend's thigh. The sensations were overwhelming, both familiar and foreign at the same time.

Becky released her nipples with a pop and moved up to nip at Traci's neck. "You feel so good, Traci. I could do this all night." Traci shuddered, her legs turning to jelly. She reached down, grasping at Becky's hips as she felt her wetness grow between her legs. "Please, Becky. I need..." she trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"You need me?" Becky asked, her voice low and husky. "You need my cock inside you?" She moved back, her gaze trailing down to Traci's crotch. “Wait.. what cock?” Traci asked confused. Becky grabbed Traci’s back and grinded her hips into Traci’s. Traci gasped as she felt a stiff member against her pelvis. “Succubus powers baby” Becky grinned.

Becky pulled Traci’s bottoms off. Traci felt a rush of cold air against her, and then the warmth of Becky's body as her friend straddled her. She gripped the head of her cock, positioning it at Traci's entrance. Traci felt a sting of pain as Becky pressed inside her, but it was quickly replaced by an intense, burning pleasure. She cried out, her body arching up into the sensation.

Elated to share this moment with her.

She arched her back, her fingernails digging into Becky's shoulders as she felt her own orgasm building, a wave of heat and pleasure starting deep in her core and spreading outward. "Oh god, Becky," she gasped, her hips meeting Becky's with frenzied urgency. "I'm going to..."

Becky's thrusts became faster, harder, as if she was trying to push Traci over the edge. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body shuddering with the effort. "Come for me, baby," she growled, her voice rough and demanding.

Traci felt her orgasm build, tearing through her body like a tidal wave. "Yes!" she cried out, arching her back as her hips bucked wildly against Becky. Her vision blurred, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her.

Becky felt Traci's inner walls grip her cock, squeezing it with unrelenting force. She threw her head back, her body tensing as she felt the familiar tightness building inside her. "Oh fuck," she moaned, her voice ragged and desperate. "I'm coming."

With a final thrust, Becky buried her cock to the hilt inside Traci, their bodies pressed together, their sweat mixing on their skin. She let out a long, shuddering groan as her orgasm overtook her, her hips snapping wildly against Traci's in a frenzy of pleasure. Her vision blurred, her thoughts spinning out of control as the wave of ecstasy crashed over her.

Traci panting laid her chest on Becky’s. “Was that really revenge for you?”

Becky looked down at Traci “No, more like what I always wanted.”

[shewhowas39]

Title: "Hard to Concentrate" Rating: Explicit Pairing: Spawn Astarion x female Durge/OC (my girl June) Words: 4.3k Summary: Astarion is bored and ants attention. June is trying to concentrate on a spell. Whatever is a man to do? (this is pure smut, a little fluffy, not even a hint of angst, late act 3)

A/N: this is set in the same universe as my longfic, Juniper & Starlight. it's going to be ages before that fic hits act 3, but that doesn't mean we can't have some fun. you don't need to read J&S to follow along with this. but if you do read J&S, this may contain some spoilery previews of things to come.

***

PREVIEW

“Remind me again what you’re doing,” he says, picking at his fingernails. 

June flexes her fingers and the Steel Watcher turns one direction and then the other.  “Gale showed me some illusion spells. If we’re going into the Foundry tomorrow, I figure it’d be real useful to be able to create believable distractions. Just trying to get this perfect.”

“Right.” He watches for another moment before walking up to stand behind her chair. “June?”

"Yeah?”

“I’m bored.”

She huffs out a little laugh.  “You don’t gotta stay here with me, you know. You’re free to go out and have some fun if you want.”

“But I want to have fun with you.”

“I’d like that, too, but getting an illusion just right takes time. Especially when it ain’t my strong suit. I don’t want us getting caught because my Steel Watcher looks off.”

“It looks good! Perfect! I’d never know it wasn’t the real thing! You’re a master illusionist, my love. Gale wishes he could do illusions as well as you.”

“You’re just saying that because you want attention.”

“Yes.”

June laughs, but then she writes something down in her spellbook and goes back to manipulating the illusion, adjusting the placement of a few of the construct’s bolts. 

Astarion’s hands begin to play with her dark blond curls, carefully moving his fingers through them, pausing to massage her scalp in a way that makes her sigh with pleasure. Slowly, he slides his hands down her neck. He kneads at her shoulders, working at the stress-induced knots he can always find there. He can feel June relaxing beneath his touch. Then his hands slip lower, down her chest and into the cups of her bodice.

The press of his fingers on her nipples causes June to jump and her illusion to flicker briefly.

“Astarion!” she protests with a giggle.

“Hm?” He tries to sound innocent even as he lowers his mouth to suck on the pointed tip of her ear. 

“Oh…” The Steel Watcher flickers again as June’s pale cheeks turn a very fetching shade of pink. She swallows, then gently tilts away, swatting at him and his wandering hands. “You’re insatiable lately.”

She’s not wrong. Since defeating Cazador and reigniting the physical part of their relationship, Astarion is hardly able to keep his hands off of June. For the first time in two hundred years, he is able to enjoy sex without the heavy feelings of shame that once accompanied it, with a partner who takes his wants and desires and boundaries seriously. It isn’t as if his complicated relationship with physical intimacy has been magically repaired, but each day with her brings a little bit of progress. 

And, by the gods, it feels so good to be able to make love to her and then smile and laugh and bask in the afterglow. It’s what he wanted for so long, and now that he has it, he cannot get enough.

It doesn’t help that he finds June so bloody sexy. He always has, but lately, it seems like anything and everything about her can set him off: those big, blue eyes blinking at him, the way she gets so excited to talk about historical events anyone else would find dull, the ink stains on her hands after she has transcribed a new spell…

Hells, two days ago he found his trousers growing tight because of the way she yawned. It’s ridiculous and intoxicating, this constant desire for her. 

Which is why it is especially cruel that she is here, being so obscenely delectable, and not paying attention to him. He needs to change that. Immediately

[fallingwaynes]

i spent the last day complaining that i’m sick and now i’m going to complain some more because i’m too sick to update chapter two of “nothing promised, no regrets” [wailing in the distance]

but i have written the entirety of that chapter, and i will post a little snippet of it and hopefully i will recover by tomorrow or friday to post it. so here you go, here’s the snippet:

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” Jason muttered, before holding up the granola bar for Talon to see. Talon’s head perked up, but his eyes didn’t show any signs of excitement. “I figured you might like these granola bars, so I got you another one.” he could see that the teenager was attentive, and all his attention was on the food in Jason’s hand. Jason chucked it over to Talon, but in hindsight, he should have known that he wouldn’t have caught it. Talon watched it as it hit the ground, then stared up at Jason.

“You were supposed to catch it.” Jason muttered with an amused shake of his head, as he bent down to pick up the granola bar. He held it out for Talon, who stared at Jason before taking it in his hands. More gently this time, Jason noted so at least he didn’t have to worry about the boy wanting to kill him.

“Open.” Talon attempted to rip open the package, before pressing it back into Jason’s hands. Jason, for one, thought this was progress especially since the teenager knew that Jason was here to help. He ripped open the wrapper, and gave the granola bar back to Talon who turned with it in his hand. The boy walked over to the couch, and perched upon it as he munched on his food. Some things stayed the same, Jason guessed as he turned to the kitchen to make his own breakfast.

(and if you have no idea what fic i am talking about, it’s an alternate universe fic involving jason, dick [who is a talon], tim and bruce)

— https://archiveofourown.org/works/54789568

[erebusbabylon]

Threads of Fate Chapters 15 and 16

Find chapters 13 and 14 HERE

CHAPTERS FIFTEEN AND SIXTEEN

Chapter Fifteen: A Forgotten Response

Two weeks had passed since your conversation with Miroden, and winter had firmly settled over Eregion. The landscape was transformed into a serene wonderland, blanketed in soft snow that glistened like diamonds under the pale winter sun. 

Miroden had decided to take some time off to visit a distant friend, leaving you to tend to the healing needs of Eregion alone. It felt strange without his steady presence, but you welcomed the solitude. It gave you space to reflect on your thoughts and feelings, particularly regarding Celebrimbor and the growing connection you felt toward him.

On one particularly frosty morning, as you arranged glass jars of herbs in the small greenhouse, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Turning, you found Celebrimbor standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the pale light.

“Good morning,” he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” you replied, your heart quickening at the sight of him. “I was just finishing up.”

He stepped inside, shaking off the cold from his cloak. “I wanted to see if you would join me at the forge tomorrow. There’s much to show you, and I believe you’ll find it fascinating.”

A thrill ran through you at the invitation. “I would love that,” you said, trying to remain composed. The thought of being in the forge, watching him work, sent a rush of warmth through the winter chill.

“Wonderful,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ll prepare something special for you to see.”

As he spoke, you felt an undeniable pull toward him, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Miroden meant about embracing your fate.

After your conversation, you spent the rest of the day in a pleasant haze, thoughts of the forge and Celebrimbor swirling in your mind.

As dusk approached, you heard a soft knock on your chamber doors.

As you opened the door, you were greeted by a herald holding a letter, his posture formal and respectful. Your eyes fell upon Gil-galad's familiar seal, and a jolt of realization struck you like lightning—you had never responded to his last correspondence.

“For you, my lady,” the herald said, bowing slightly as he presented the letter.

You accepted it from him, feeling the weight of your oversight, and thanked him sincerely.

After closing the door, you took a moment to gather yourself, the letter heavy in your hands. You moved to a nearby table, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the intricate seal. Slowly, you broke the wax and unfolded the parchment, your heart racing with anticipation.

Gil-galad's elegant script flowed across the page, each word imbued with warmth and familiarity:

My Dearest, I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. I never heard back from you after your initial letter, and I find myself longing for news of your days in Eregion. I trust that the beauty of the land has captivated you, as it often does for those who visit. I wish to know how you are faring, and I am eager to hear of your studies. I trust you have been exceedingly busy, and thus unable to write.  Eregion is known for its artisans, and I hope you are finding inspiration in the work of Celebrimbor and his smiths. I hope Lord Celebrimbor has been a gracious host.  Please write back at your earliest convenience. I miss you. With all my love, Gil-galad

You set the letter down, a sudden wave of guilt and shame washing over you. How could you have forgotten to respond to his last letter? It had been nearly a month since you received it.

While it was true that your studies had consumed much of your attention, if you were completely honest with yourself, it was Celebrimbor who had occupied your thoughts, drawing your mind away from Lindon and your beloved Gil-galad.

You grabbed fresh parchment and ink, setting to work on your letter. The words flowed easily at first, but as you continued, you found it increasingly difficult to express your true feelings about Eregion. Should you lie? Should you confess to Gil-galad that you were caught in a tempest of confusion? Or would it be better not to mention Celebrimbor at all?

Your mind raced with questions and doubts, each thought pulling you in a different direction.

Finally, after much inner turmoil you managed to finish your response.

My beloved, I hope this letter finds you well. It feels like an eternity since I last wrote to you, and I must beg your forgiveness for my silence. The days here in Eregion have been filled with a whirlwind of activity, and I find myself lost in my studies, often forgetting to pause and reflect on the world beyond. Eregion is a land of beauty and wonder, its landscapes a tapestry of shimmering light and vibrant colors. The gardens are alive with winter blooms, even as the snow begins to blanket the ground. Each day, I learn something new, whether it be about the rich history of this place or the intricate arts of crafting and forging. Master Miroden is wise and patient, guiding me through the complexities of the knowledge I seek. Lord Celebrimbor has been an exceptionally gracious host. A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of dining with him and several of his advisors. It was a delightful evening, rich with conversation, and I gained valuable insights into the politics of this realm. The experience served as excellent preparation for my forthcoming role as High Queen. I miss you an immeasurable amount. Yours forever

You gazed down at your words, a shadow of guilt looming over you. As you carefully folded your response, you reminded yourself that you had done nothing wrong and, therefore, had no reason to feel guilty.

Chapter Sixteen: The Land of Holly

The following morning, you got up before the sun to ready yourself for the day ahead. At dawn's break you found yourself stepping into the forge, a place alive with the sounds of clanging metal and the warmth of glowing embers. Celebrimbor welcomed you with a smile, his presence radiating both confidence and passion.

“I’m glad you could join me today,” he said, motioning for you to follow him. “Let me introduce you to the other smiths.”

As you walked through the bustling workshop, you met several skilled craftsmen, each engrossed in their work. They greeted you warmly, their camaraderie evident in their laughter and banter. You felt a sense of belonging in this vibrant atmosphere, where creativity and tradition blended seamlessly.

Celebrimbor guided you to his own workspace, a  semi-private section of the forge that seemed to shimmer with possibility. He gestured toward a delicate silver and emerald bracelet he was crafting. “This is what I’m working on today,” he said, pride evident in his voice. "A silver bracelet."

You watched, captivated, as he skillfully shaped the metal. The intricate design featured holly leaves, their curves and edges reflecting the light in a way that made the piece seem almost alive. There was something undeniably alluring about watching him work, the way his hands moved with precision and grace, each strike of the hammer echoing with purpose. A warmth spread through you, and your face became flushed with desire. 

Hours slipped by as you observed, lost in the artistry of the forge. Celebrimbor seemed to become part of the very elements around him—metal, fire, and earth—his focus unwavering.

Finally, he turned to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You nodded, eager to break the spell of silence that had enveloped the forge. He led you to his upstairs study, a cozy room filled with books and artifacts, where the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air.

As you dined together, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the air. You felt a sense of ease in his company. It was a moment of respite, a chance to connect beyond the confines of duty and expectation.

After you finished eating, Celebrimbor stood and walked to his workbench, retrieving the bracelet he had been crafting earlier. He returned with it in hand, a look of earnestness on his face. “This is for you,” he said softly. “I want you to have it as a reminder of your time in Eregion.”

You took the bracelet, the silver cool against your fingers, and your breath caught in your throat. The holly leaves intricately carved into the design spoke of the land itself—Eregion, the land of holly. Tears welled in your eyes, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his gift.

“It’s beautiful,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Without thinking, you jumped up and hugged him tightly, wanting to convey the depth of your gratitude. As you pressed against him, a sharp pulling sensation pierced through your chest, causing you to gasp.

Celebrimbor stiffened, confusion flickering across his features. “What was that?” he asked, concern etching his brow. "Did you feel that?"

You pulled away, breathless, your heart racing. “I… I don’t know,” you replied, bewildered, rubbing the spot on your chest where the pain had been.

Celebrimbor stepped closer, and you instinctively took a step back. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “This is all just too much.”

His eyes softened with understanding. “We can’t keep pretending that nothing is happening between us,” he said gently. “It will only drive us both mad.”

"Stop!" You shook your head, panic rising within you. “No, my future is already written,” you said firmly. “I will become Gil-galad’s bride and the High Queen of the Noldor.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions threatening to spill over. “Thank you for the bracelet, and thank you for your hospitality” you added, your voice steady but strained.

With that, you turned away, leaving the warmth of the forge and the lingering connection behind. Each step felt heavier as you walked away, the weight of your choices pressing down on you, the bracelet clutched tightly in your hand as you stepped back into the winter chill.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 8: Not mine

After a couple of hours of talking, and mostly listening, to Rhoda and Chapman about dragon habits and needs, I promise to help look for a better place for me to live. Though my hope is that there aren’t any.

Dammit, even after my transformation I’m still fawning.

I think I need to talk to my counselor about having human grade C-PTSD as a dragon. I don’t think she’s qualified to assess that, but she can at least listen. Especially if I get another tablet, which, by the way, Kimberly says she might have for me.

She won’t be able to bring it to me until later tonight, or tomorrow morning, but that’s fine.

It’s her old one, though, and it has a shitty battery, which we’ll need to replace to make it actually useful for me. But Rhoda is the kind of person who knows who to go to for that, apparently.

It seems that Rhoda’s favorite thing to do is networking, and she networks with everyone.

It turns out that Chapman took the day off just to get that color booklet to me as soon as possible, and was able to because work was fortuitously so slow today. Hir boss almost suggested it before sie walked up and asked.

And now that we’ve had our meeting early, sie’s eager to go with Rhoda to the library. Any opportunity to research dragons further clearly excites the shit out of hir.

The two of them make quite the pair. Tall Rhoda with her purples and maroons, with long sleeves and stockings even in the summer heat, and a cane that’s basically too thick dowels nailed together with a miter joint, and short round Chapman’s ingenious mishmash of neon queer greaser roller derby 90’s ska punk perfection, walking side by side down the street. I feel like there’s some kind of power there. And if they were baubles, instead of people, they’d be the perfect start to a good hoard.

Watching them head toward the bus depot, I realize that what I’m about to do is very risky, all for the sake of something I don’t believe in.

I’d better do it right.

It’s about half past noon now, and the traffic has gotten heavier as people are on their lunch breaks. Which means I can’t really use any of the roads as a runway.

I step out from under the awning and look up at my building.

Time to climb it.

Oh, the police are going to love this if they see me doing it.

Whatever.

Using a stroke of my wings for assistance, I leap up to grab the edge of the awning, and then flapping them rapidly I work to pull myself up onto it. And I do much better than Whitman did in a similar situation. They must have been really stunned and scared.

There’s a fire escape around the corner of the building, and I could have just gone to that in the first place, actually. I do that now, to save myself a lot of effort. No need to scale a brick face where there are stairs. And those go up to the top floor!

At the top of those, I do a repeat of my hop and scrabble to get onto the roof.

It’s not the tallest building downtown, but it’s one of the few.

I’m going to head south, so jumping from the roof down over the street I usually use as a runway makes the most sense. But I’ve got something else I have to do first.

Determined to make it known that this place is mine, I pace around the full edge of the building, repeatedly making my signature challenge call.

Let it be known that if you can hear my voice, you are in my air! And you’d better turn away and find somewhere else to be.

After about halfway around the circumference of the building, I start hearing other cries echoing back, each one very different from the others. And I can actually visualize where I think they’re coming from.

I get sort of a map in my head of where some of the other dragons are in the city. I don’t think I could draw it, but I can see the only hole I can fly through without offending anyone. Jesus, we’re densely packed. And it’s not even all fifty that are supposed to be here. Maybe twelve others have answered.

This isn’t going to be good if we can’t make peace with each other somehow.

Even though I know it’s unreasonable, my feeling is that if they all recognize my superiority, we’ll be fine.

With this thought firmly in mind, just for the determination of it, I complete my circuit, and then position myself for take-off.

I’ve gotta give one more revving Harley squawk and air-ratchet chatter before I take off, so I do. And then I fall, spread my wings, and pull up to shoot out down the street just above tree level. Then, flapping laconically and heading for the strongest of the thermals in my path, I rebuild my altitude before heading out over the bay.

And the more distance I put between myself and my lair, the more I feel like I’m personally at risk and in danger. If someone takes my home, they take my hoard, such as it is, and they take my people. And I really can’t have that. I’d have to start all over again, of course. But also, it’d be like if someone kidnapped my parents and burned down their house, but worse.

I tell myself that my declaration has given me at least a couple hours of reprieve from challengers. Everyone has to know I’m in a mood, and maybe word of what I did to Whitman has started to get around. Though, Whitman’s yawp was not among the responses. I wonder where they live, or where they went after our fight.

They had headed south, on foot.

Hmm.

—

The cave I’m looking for is at the northern end of a trail that follows along the ridge of the foothill closest to the bay, south of the city. It’s technically inside city limits, but there’s no real development there. It’s officially a park on the east side of the ridge, with a smattering of housing developments on the west, facing the water and the sunsets. I’ve delivered pizza to a few of those houses before, during the three months I worked for a pizza place.

I didn’t hear any dragons here, which is either amazing or they just didn’t give a shit. Maybe my voice didn’t make it this far.

I go as far south as I dare and look for the parking lot at the trailhead there, and then follow the trail up and along the ridge. It’s not always visible from the air, but I know where it goes. I hiked it with my parents a couple times before my chronic fatigue set in.

The rocky outcrop that’s used as a viewpoint by hikers is easy to see, and I know it’s right near the end of the trail, so I land on that.

I take a moment to stand there and look out over the southern neighborhoods of the city, toward the arboretum where I humiliated Whitman.

I suspect I’m already in another dragon’s territory, so I’m quiet and alert.

I don’t even huff, though I want to.

Then I start following the trail toward the old mine, the one I’ve been thinking about for the past day. As quietly as I can move. Which is really amazingly quiet. I think. I’m not sure my ears work as well as they used to. They’re kind of hidden behind my head armor.

Whitman had parabolic bat-like ears. If this is Whitman’s territory, I’m going to have to assume they know I’m coming.

This is so stupid.

It’s also more of a hike down than I remember. Almost halfway back down the side of the mountain. And it is just tall enough to be registered as a mountain. Though, I think part of the onerous nature of my skulking exploration is that I’m walking on all fours and being as cautious as possible every inch of the way. 

And with each step, I’m afraid I’m going to be ambushed with napalm. Or teeth the size of my own horns and jaws designed to crush small boulders. Well, maybe two watermelons at the same time.

The thing is, though, I do think that this isn’t really Whitman’s kind of terrain. I’m probably more at home here than they are. If I see them coming, I should be able to dodge around trees so much more easily than they can follow.

But that doesn’t assuage my fear at all. Because if I don’t see them coming, I’m probably dead.

But, eventually I see the big mound of dirt jutting out from the side of the mountain that marks the opening of the mine.

I stop and listen. Then I taste the air.

I taste it repeatedly and a lot, moving my head back and forth.

I could actually sort of do this before my transformation. My tongue was always way more sensitive than my nose, and plugging my nose never made it so I couldn’t taste anything. But it’s nicer and more effective to have a longer tongue that’s split and more flexible, with a sort of hole in the center of my lips for it to slip out. And it is way more sensitive than it was before.

I don’t taste anything that I’d identify as another dragon.

And, also, the mouth of that man made cave isn’t any warmer than its surroundings.

I think that means that if there’s a dragon there it’s not Whitman. But I can’t bring myself to be sure that it’s vacant.

Maybe I should make a strategic noise. A call of challenge for this one only. Quiet, but not too quiet.

I’d rather call them out, bristling and ready to fight, than to stick my head into a gout of napalm.

Or maybe I should just leave, because this was a bad idea.

Experimentally, I rumble. And I stand there and rumble for quite a while, and nothing happens.

Realizing that it’s not working, I then make a squawk about the volume I’d use to call to someone across a crowded pub.

It sounds a lot louder than I’m comfortable with.

But there’s no response.

I stay still a while longer, still tasting the air and using my ears. My hearing might not be as good as it was, but I’m not not using it! I’m also keeping an eye out for any movement.

When I’m certain that there’s no dragon here that’s going to make themself known, I approach the cave.

But at the mouth of it, I taste the air again. Or, rather, I don’t stop tasting it the whole way, but I pause there to wave my head back and forth some more.

If anything, the air tastes like forest duff and vaguely of human urine.

Gross.

There is no heat in the cave. Even an endothermic dragon would likely be warmer than their surroundings. I think that once they got as cold as their surroundings, they’d need to warm them up somehow to not go into torpor, with how cool it is in there.

I’m just guessing. But it’s what I’m telling myself to get myself to go deeper in.

I move so slowly, one footstep at a time. Nothing.

Nobody.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can tell clearly that the cave is completely empty. It doesn’t even go that far back. Maybe thirty feet, just as I remember.

I also remember my parents telling me not to go all the way back, because in an abandoned mine that’s maybe a hundred years old, that’s really dangerous. Even though the walls and ceiling are solid rock. And, of course, it’s a square shaft.

Still, now I’m curious if I could even make it a comfortable home. It’s pretty small, with no room for even what I call a hoard. But I could put something in here and if I can turn around alright, maybe it’ll do while I work to assert my dominance over a larger region.

I want to know how it feels, and I just… I just…

It might be nice to sleep in here. Like, right now.

A Tumblr post I reblogged just last week comes to mind, and I’m sufficiently alarmed. No, no, no. I’ve got to get out of here quickly.

I’ll die.

I start backing up, scrunching up as I go, getting my head out of the back of this mine as fast as I can, when I hear, or rather feel, a powerful thump behind me.

In a horrific panic, without even really thinking, I scramble up the wall and across the ceiling like I’m trying to leave the bathroom in my apartment after using the toilet. And, wings held tightly against my ribs, tail scraping along the lower corner of the wall until it whips out behind me, I land facing the entrance without having advanced any further that way.

A quick breath gives me more oxygen than before, which is good.

Because there, right in front of me, are all the teeth of Whitman, coming right at me.

Two steps back, and another quick intake of air, this time not into my lungs, and I just barely avoid having my head snapped off.

We’re nose to nose, and I don’t even know if they can see me around their snout.

Their mouth opens quickly again to make another attack.

And I exhale.

The result is not good for either of us.

There is fire everywhere.

And even though my nictitating membranes have successfully protected my eyes from burning and from being hurt by the glare of heat, and my scaly hide seems to shrug off my own napalm just fine, the fire is eating up the oxygen in the mine extremely fast.

I have to get out as fast as I can. But to do that I have to go through an enormous flaming Whitman.

And they’re thrashing about in terror and pain, slamming their head against the sides, ceiling, and floor of the mine shaft, and I know better than to get any closer to that.

I can’t stop myself from taking another step back, despite that way being certain death. But I also can’t stop myself from making a noise.

At first it’s my ultra bass rumble, low enough that pebbles on the floor of the mine dance. Whitman’s got to feel it.

But they’re too distracted by napalm in their gullet to care.

I can’t even really see what’s going on. My eyes are cloudy with natural protection, and fire and chaotic movement is creating an unintelligibly blur of light and shadow. And I think I’m asphyxiating.

Needing as much oxygen and breath as I can get, I take a big breath of dangerous air, which might be a huge mistake, and start making the most humiliating sound I can think of. Humiliating for Whitman.

I fill the cave with a fire engine’s siren. No honks, no braps, just a constant, long warbling wail. And I start advancing, to make it get louder.

I want those ears to bleed.

Visually, I can’t tell if it’s working. My own snout is probably still aflame. But I do hear thumbs, scrapes, and yawps as Whitman continues to struggle and thrash.

They didn’t come very far into the cave, because I wasn’t all that far in there. They should be running out of walls to hit if they’re backing up. But I keep going, because I have no other choice. And I’ll know if I’ve misjudged when I get hit in the face with a hippo-dragon snout.

I lower my head, present my horns, and brace my neck to make a plunge, and then, convinced I’m committing suicide, I charge.

There’s a thump, a “Grawp”, and a big sliding sound as I move, but I don’t make impact.

Instead I come flying out of the mine through smoke and flames, and scrabble right over Whitman as they’re sliding down the far slope of the mine’s discarded rubble.

And I keep running. I’m not going to face that monster any longer than I have to.

I’m not on my own territory.

At some point I find a good place to take to the air, and I start heading home, out of breath and wobbling in the sky.

I notice when the fire on my snout goes out from the wind and exhaustion of fuel, because I can see again.

And I need to rest somewhere soon, but I’m headed straight for home over the territories of other dragons, and there’s nowhere safe between here and there.

—

The next morning falls with dew upon my head, and grows with a ravenous hunger in my belly. And I can hear seagulls crying out, begging me to eat them.

I’m on the roof of my building, where I collapsed after my flight home. And it seems I’ve slept unchallenged there for fifteen hours or so, if I’m reckoning time right.

Tentatively and gingerly licking my snout with my tongue, I find that I have not been burned by my own flame, but I can taste the traces of chaired fluids on my scales. My nictitating membranes flick into place as I lick my eyes, successfully cleaning them. And then I raise my head and look around.

I didn’t do any damage landing on the roof, so it seems I had a reasonable amount of control even then. Though I don’t fully remember that part.

I remember the flight as being longer than heading out to the cave, and filled with challenges from below. And I remember being quiet, because I needed my breath.

I remember gliding as much as I could to conserve energy and let oxygen build up in my blood.

And I remember deciding, no longer in lucid thought, that my building is my domain and determining to keep it, regardless of what any human says. It’s so fragile, and another dragon could knock it down or set it aflame. But it’s mine, and I’ve just got to do whatever I can to keep it safe.

And now I think about Whitman.

They’re in such a bad spot, with no shelter but a forest that doesn’t suit them, and hardly any people to call their own, unless they do have claim to the west side of the ridge.

I know it’s a bad spot, because they fell back to it after making the effort to drive into the heart of the city and try to take mine.

They must have been watching and tracking me, too. And used their infravision to pick out my apartment. Which speaks to a calculated scheme.

Do I, by chance, have a coveted spot? Or was I just the most vulnerable looking candidate in the downtown area. I am nearly in the center of it, and the nearest other dragons are in other neighborhoods. Which seems unlikely, by population densities. Statistically there should be another dragon or two nearer than that. I think.

Maybe Whitman was another downtown dragon, and that’s why they attacked so viciously and desperately.

I get up and stretch and raise my head to the sky.

After a long and loud challenging cry, I hear reports from my neighbors.

I almost feel reassured by them.

I do it again, and they repeat themselves.

Another.

It feels like they all enjoy this.

I wait.

Someone else calls out, and everyone else replies, including me.

I wonder what the rest of the city is thinking as we do this, joining the birds in the morning song.

And then when we’re done, I start looking out over my domain, looking for likely breakfasts.

I suspect that eating a seagull or two is going to be a confusing experience for me, but it’s going to happen.

[kamryn1963]

Chapter 2

Notes: I decided to add to this. Not sure yet if there will be any more chapters for this fic, but I'll see.

@angstober Prompt 14: Only Around You

It had been a few months since that day. Hank and Trudy had done their own research with some help from one of their instructors, and found some ways to help Al with what was clearly an eating disorder. 

It had been slow, especially as Al refused therapy or any treatment, but Hank and Trudy were doing whatever they could to help. 

One thing that seemed to help Al the most was dinner at Hank’s. They’d cook, sometimes just Hank and Trudy and sometimes Al would help. They’d watch a movie or just talk and Hank and Trudy had noticed Al starting to eat during those nights. 

They did that as much as they could, with Camille joining more and more especially since her and Hank tied the knot. 

It seemed to be helping. Al cooking with them and them all eating together without Al feeling too much pressure to eat. Trudy and Hank still kept an eye on him but made sure not to be constantly watching him. 

And Al still had bad days, more often than not, but it was getting better and Hank and Trudy could only hope it would stay that way. 

They had graduated the academy by this point, and that day after a long shift they were all in the locker room changing to head home. 

“We're meeting at yours tonight right, Hank? I was researching this new recipe we could try out”. Al said as he pulled his shirt over his head. 

Trudy nodded, smiling at the fact Al was seeking out recipes to make. But Hank frowned, internally cursing for forgetting to mention his plans for that night. 

“Me and Camille have plans with her parents. Tomorrow though?” Hank offered and he saw the look in Al’s eyes when he said it, the way any excitement faded from Al’s eyes and he visibility began to shut down. 

“I’m sorry, Al”. Hank added feeling bad. He had a horrible feeling Al was going to skip dinner that night and he hated it. 

“It’s okay. Have fun tonight’. Al muttered, ignoring whatever Hank said in response as he left heading out to his car. 

Al hit himself for acting so immature but he couldn’t help it. Of course Hank, and Trudy for that matter, were allowed to have a life outside him. But Al had been excited to eat that night, for the first time in a long time, and he only felt that way with Hank and Trudy. 

Alone the voices were too loud. The ones telling him he didn’t deserve to eat. 

And Al knew he couldn’t rely on Hank and Trudy forever, but right now he hadn’t figured out how to cope on his own. How to eat in a quiet apartment when his brain just wouldn’t shut up. 

Al resigned himself to another night of standing in front of the mirror, pointing out everything that was wrong about himself. Another night that brought Al closer and closer to the edge.

[tomorrowxtogether]

TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s HUENINGKAI on Defining the Next Generation of K-Pop

HUENINGKAI of TOMORROW X TOGETHER graces the cover of an exclusive edition of the Men’s Folio December/January 2023 issue.

“I’m very flexible. I’m willing to try new things and challenge myself,“ HUENINGKAI says with an expressive gesture, “I believe that I can truly learn to grow as a person once I accept the changes instead of running away.”

He is the youngest member of BIGHIT MUSIC’s fourth-generation boy group entry TOMORROW X TOGETHER, which makes music that sits comfortably between the fluorescent idealisation of teenage melodrama and the anthemic bliss of pop songs — a distinctive blend for which their debut single “Crown”, serves as its anthem. In 2019, their debut mini-album, The Dream Chapter: STAR entered the Billboard 200 chart at No. 140, making it the highest charting debut album by any male K-pop group in history and cementing the group as one to watch. Straying from the conventional, the five-member starlets are known for their distinct individualism, where their unique point of view and adolescent experiences formulate songs of effortful chemistry geared towards a sense of honesty and relatability for audiences.

HUENINGKAI is wearing the Tissot PRX Automatic Chronograph in stainless steel with matching integrated bracelet; Bottega Veneta Wool-blend jacket, wool-blend pants on the cover.

Speaking with HUENINGKAI, it becomes clear that being an artist is much more than just a presentation of perfection. The shapeshifting singer/songwriter, rapper and dancer is best known for being expressive — in “Lonely Boy” and “Good Boy Gone Bad,” his voice raptures with heartbreak and angst, gripping at every inch with anger and regret that mirrors storm clouds ebbing to the sun. It becomes a recurring feature in TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s songs and its vulnerability is indeed a rare trait amongst new groups emerging into the scene.

“Like how earlier generations of K-pop artists have shaped the industry today, I believe that the challenges the current generation of artists — including TOMORROW X TOGETHER — are tackling now could enrich the future K-pop industry,” says the young artist who is making aware of how the group and him have been finding their own conviction and ultimately, their own voice.

Hello HUENINGKAI! We are delighted to have you as our January 2023 cover star. The release of TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s next comeback — The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION — has been highly anticipated, could you tease what fans can expect from it? We always like to keep our new releases as a surprise to our fans. But one thing I can share at the moment is that it will be epic! The songs and the choreography greatly represent TOMORROW X TOGETHER as the artists we strive to be. I’m so excited to try out a brand new chapter with our fans, MOA.

What was the preparation for The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION like? It was a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Preparing for a new album always give me butterflies, especially because we don’t know how it will turn out until we take the stage. But I was extremely thrilled to try out the new style of music that manifests the message we want to deliver to the audience.

How does the concept of the new mini album differ from previous releases? This album’s concept focuses on how the guys from our last album — minisode 2: Thursday’s Child — transformed and embraced a new phase of their youth. Check out how “Good Boy Gone Bad” will explore the new stage of life in our new album! The sound and choreography — they are very trendy and stylish — but they still mirror who we are as artists.

It’s been almost half a year since we had new music from TOMORROW X TOGETHER, are you excited about this new chapter? Definitely! All of the members have waited to come back with a new album and meet our fans on stage. We put in a lot of efforts to create satisfying music. I can’t wait to see our fans’ reactions.

It has been four years since your debut — do you still remember the day you first performed live? What was that experience like? I remember it felt surreal. We were a new group just starting but our audiences cheered so loudly and passionately for us. We were so thrilled. It’s an experience none of us can forget.

Speaking of performances, what is one dream venue you would like TOMORROW X TOGETHER to perform at one day? It’s really hard to pick one because every stage, wherever it takes place, means so much to me. I would love to perform wherever our fans, MOA are there. I can’t wait to be back on stage with our fifth EP!

Do you have a pre-performance routine or ritual before going on stage? I always remind myself and the team of putting out the best we can for our fans. I like to motivate myself to become a better performer every time.

The fans in South East Asia are wondering if the rest of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and you will ever perform here, is that something we can expect someday? Nothing is set in stone, but we are all thrilled to visit our fans in cities where we’ve never been. I just want to thank all our fans around the world for all their wholehearted support and love. Hopefully, one day, we will get to meet you there!

That brings us to the next question: is there anyone in the music industry who inspires you to grow into the artist that you are? TOMORROW X TOGETHER, of course! We try our best to tell “our” story through our songs and performances. There are so many talented artists in the music industry, but I feel like our group shines most when we sing about our own experiences and the meanings of growing up in today’s world. We want people to hear our music and relate to them. It’s what we stand for.

You were very young when you first wanted to do something with music, what charmed you about music back then? I was first attracted to singing and dancing because music is so boundless. It’s so dynamic and challenging, and I feel like it helps me grow and learn so much as an individual as well.

How are you keeping up with what inspires you these days? I have so many interests. I listen to music like everyone else, and watch a lot of TV shows! Aside from all the aspects of my lifestyle, our fans MOA really inspire and motivate me. I love interacting with them not only on stage but also on a more personal level like Weverse live.

How about inspirations in terms of fashion? Has anyone been a style inspiration or muse to you? Everyone is so fashionable nowadays. You would walk down the street and be amazed by how stylish people are. But, not to pick favourites, our member YEONJUN is such a nice dresser — his outfits are always on point.

Speaking of fashion muses, the rest of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and you are put together stylishly all the time. How does it feel knowing others might regard you as their fashion muse? I would be flattered if anyone thinks of me as their fashion muse. I do have a few favourites though, like hoodies! All our fans know I own a lot of them. So, if anyone is interested in how I try to be fashionable, my words of advice would be to find what’s most interesting to you, because everyone is unique and beautiful in their own way!

How did you develop your sense of style into what it is today? I’m very focused on what I like. If I like something, I adore it. I guess you could say it speaks about me. I generally prefer comfortable clothes, and comfy attire is what I’m usually found in. It might not be fancy, but I still think it expresses who I am.

Speaking of trying on different styles, how has fashion been transformative in your experience? I think fashion has been most transformative for me on stage when we perform. We’ve tried so many different sounds and genres over the years, and fashion has really helped us to amplify the vibe and mood of the song. Fashion helps complete the visual components of our shows as well as the listening experience of our albums. It helps us enter another zone and put on the best show we possibly can.

Everyone has their unique personas when it comes to personal style — how would you define yours? It’s a tough question. I would like to describe my style as friendly, approachable and very comfortable because I love to get to know people in various settings.

What do you think are your best characteristics? I’m very flexible. I’m willing to try new things and challenge myself. I believe that I can truly learn to grow as a person once I accept the changes instead of running away. It’s so intriguing that the only “constant” in life is paradoxically “change.”

What has changed the most about you while being a part of TOMORROW X TOGETHER? This is a good question, I actually want to ask this question to the other members. I learned so much, yet out of all, I learned to become a team player. There’s nothing more rewarding than accomplishing things “together.”

When the group was teased before you were revealed, the phrase “You and I, different but together. We explore one dream” was shared on the introductory website, what might that dream be? There can be many different interpretations, but I think the biggest and the most meaningful dream “we” can share is finding ourselves through a beautiful journey called growing up. We are all in this together, experiencing the highs and lows life has to offer.

More importantly, TOMORROW X TOGETHER often revolves around building a possible, hopeful future. As the youngest member, what does “TOMORROW” mean to you? For me, the meaning of “tomorrow” varies from time to time. I always hope for a better tomorrow, a better future and a better me. As the youngest member of the group, I think tomorrow means growth that I get to share with amazing team members and our fans MOA.

Do you hope others will feel the same about what “TOMORROW” means? Of course! I hope others have a positive view of what tomorrow means to them. It could mean a challenge or uncharted territory, but that itself is an opportunity, right?

K-pop has helped bring Korean culture to the world; I’m also aware that you speak Mandarin and Portuguese, besides Korean and English, how does it feel to be a bridge between multiple cultures? Language is just a component that shapes an intricate web of culture. There are so many things to consider before you say you “know” a certain culture. Through K-pop, the world is more aware of Korean music and started to get interested in other aspects of Korean culture, like food and the dramas! I’m really humbled and grateful to be part of something that brings people together.

What do you think this generation of K-pop can bring to the future of the K-pop industry? Like how earlier generations of K-pop artists have shaped the industry today, I believe that the challenges the current generation of artists — including TOMORROW X TOGETHER — are tackling now could enrich the future K-pop industry.

Do you have anything you have learned to let go or overcome after debuting? Every song, every dance and every tour is a challenge I successfully overcome. Yes, they are difficult and sometimes even scary. So, I’ve learned not to be afraid of anything without trying, I would say.

Lastly, do you have any messages for your fans in South East Asia? Words cannot express how much I love you MOA! Thank you for always being with us. We hope to see you soon.

[phoenixisobsessed]

I have notifications on for you and also this one YouTuber so when I scroll through my notifs without really looking I get excited like "OMG did Phoenixisobsessed post!?" And then I'll read it and it's a YouTube notification and I'll get all sad like "oh... no it's just a Phoenix SC Minecraft video.."

I too have notifications on for Phoenix SC. LMFOKSS this is so funny though thanks chat. I’m happy to know that even the idea of me posting brings joy.

I’ll be 100% honest, I was gonna draw today (even though yes I’ve posted daily art but, yk. Just to add to the queue) but I haven’t done anything. I mean I did a little thing but it wasn’t even an ask but I guess it’ll be out tomorrow!? I’ve just had a cleaning day and then my friend wanted to watch Arcane and then we watched Transformers: One and now I’m realising “oh right I have an assignment that has to be like 7200-9600 characters long to work on” so…HAUEHHS oh well. I’m excited to do pretty much every asks right now though. So the grind is BACK ON tomorrow.