#I'll have the spoons to figure it all out soon!

[a-non-event]

"The Ogallala Land Festival..."

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

IF your requests are open, could you please do Hyugo, Geo, and Crowe with a calm s/o that makes them feel safe? Like, for Hyugo, the s/o is probably the big spoon, (was thinking of slightly taller but I think slightly shorter is better..?), someone who just loves to hold him - and for that little time, Hyugo is in heaven. And so is s/o. (Just giving suggestions, you don't have to follow the script.) For Crowe, it's probably similar? But Crowe is the prince charming - meaning s/o would probably have to be hard to fluster (?). The s/o would probably kick some ass if anyone dared say anything about all those three in a ny situations - or if anyone talked shit about the s/o's close friends in general. Geo is probably a completely different story. He doesn't like to be touched - but little things, such as little gifts (or maybe flowers) and the s/o's presenece makes his feel strangely at ease.

I LOVE your work! I can't really figure out how to write my oneshots, especially hcs - but if I ever do, I'll make sure to tag you!

WITHIN YOUR ARMS

Thank you so much for the kind words! And, if you want some advice on writing oneshots or HCs, just press buttons on your keyboard that at least somewhat personify what you're trying to say; but either way make SURE you tag me, whatever it is you cook up I'll feast upon till the day I wither and die. 😔

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels <3

In Geode's case, you serve as one of the few people - that he's already well acquainted with - whom he trusts. Fully trusts. He doesn't know whether to be irked or content with this innate feeling, so he does what he typically does with feelings - repression.

He's very rarely someone who cracks, or makes it aware how weak he truly feels, the only people who have are Hyugo and maybe his parents - adoptive parents, but parents nonetheless. The point is, that odd trust makes him feel that if he were to crack and have the dams break, you'd do something different. You wouldn't try to rebuild said dam or freeze the cascading waterfalls of tears with ice...you'd simply let the waterworks run, let these feelings run wild and about, until they find their due course down wherever it is that feelings go.

Not that he will, of course. That'll never happen, especially if sober. The only way tears'll ever happen is if Geo's tipsy or high. He's never been under the influence. Doesn't want to be either.

The only reason he starts somewhat talking to you is if you're close with Crowe or Brittney. Or if either of them - or even Deryl - ask him to be more open with you.

He appreciates your nonchalant nature, you've got a moral compass and plenty of passion - but you're logical, reasonable, tolerable. He finds himself approving of you eventually.

You both get closer typically through Deryl or Crowe being with you lot, the former tends to drag Geo along regardless, while the latter wants to simply relax with his friends - and you lmao.

Anyway he'll only start cracking when you show a more serious interest in being his friend, whether that be inviting him somewhere or getting him a small gift. "Did Deryl put you up to this? What even is it."

"It's from me! We're friends - at least I want us to be - so, yeah. Heard you like these. :))"

"Oh". *long pause* "Thank...s. It's appreciated. :]"

Soon enough he decides he likes you enough to hang out with you alone, and that's when the true bonding starts. You become good friends pretty quickly - especially comparing to Geo's friendship track records and in turn it takes him significantly longer to discover he likes you. Not simply platonically.

To put this simply, Geo's a little bitch who fears rejection and humiliation and thus, you will have to be the confessor in terms of these romantic feelings.

Insert long dramatic timeskip.

When together, Geo gently, gingerly, starts being less stoic around you, he still detests being touched, but he'll allow a handhold every now and then, he enjoys knowing you're comfortable and content with him. Only allows things like hugging when severely comfortable around you, and only when you're asleep. You'll probably be watching a movie together and you 'fall asleep' (or maybe you actually do, who knows) on his shoulder, and after about 20 minutes that man is grinning to himself. Not that you'll ever know, but the satisfaction he gets is insane.

This man will also serve as the perfect #malewife. Will cook, will clean, will drive, will be a jealous little shit. There's no way he isn't. He definitely spends hours in bed contemplating what to do about these nuisances. ALSO GETS RED AND FLUSHED EASILY!!!!!!!!!! He blushes so hard his skin looks red. That's probably why he looks up at the sky when around you lets be fr.

In terms of sleeping in the same bed, it'll probably never happen. Firstly, his touch aversion; secondly it's normal for couples to sleep separately in Japanese culture anyway, so for him that was always the norm growing up. It'd take a LOT to get you both together, but let's make some magic happen and you're in a one-bed scenario (check out that one HC I did of this trope btw).

Only touching that happens will probably be hand-holding, but while that may seem small for most, for Geo that's insane. For him to initiate touch is even crazier, so if he does, you better stay with him. If something happens that makes you either scared or otherwise require comfort, he might let you hold him - him being preferably in a couple of sweaters to ignore the feelings (also I HC he's cold all the time) - BUT he's big spooning. He is not risking his hair being touched, no sir no ma'am.

"Hm. >:)" *silently smiles in the dead of night in a Japanese manner*

For Hyugo, you're one of - if not the - only thing that's remained steady in his deranged, messy life. He's surrounded by falseties, by masks, by faces of people who either hide their truth from him, or - like his brother - made it apparent how willingly they would be to leave him alone within this web he's entangled himself into, been forced to be entangled into.

He's been raised in wealth and fame, so he's learnt about reputation - and the vitality of safety - from a young age, an age that should've been saved for childlike naiveties...but not Hyugo. Since his youth he's either guarded, watched or puppeteered - if not by his family then by his reputation, and if not for reputation then the endless scandalous things he's gotten up to.

He's learnt to rely on intuition, on logic, on maintaining unpredictability that can leave most confused or deterred from pursuing any suspicious things he might've revealed sometime ages ago. He's got a good memory to, how else is he meant to memorise every alibi and lie he's ever uttered?

Either way, he never was able to simply be. To exist in himself and feel serene, at ease. Until he met you, that is; and it wasn't a short process either! This man's got intense, well-rooted trust issues. He fears attachment, but alas his heart decided that this one - this beautiful stranger - was someone...stable. Someone trustworthy, someone safe.

He's by far not a saint, he knows it, some nights it even haunts him...on rarer times he wonders if he's even got any humanity left. If he has any empathy left. Love left. The thought scares him, oddly enough. Until you come along and remind him that clearly not, because he feels something akin to devotion in terms of you, especially after a long time of knowing you.

When he does grow close to you, in a sense that blends the lines of platonic and romantic, he sees you as his aegis. His sword and shield, his camouflage and beacon. Not that he'll admit the extent of thee feelings, of course not. He's got a facade to maintain, or 100.

When you two eventually try out a relationship and find it works well, find you guys have stuck it out together for a year or so and decide to live together, he serves as a domestic cook and tutor. He'll help you as much as he can, when not MIA or finding himself occupied by important-people-duties.

In terms of sleeping in the same bed, it'll take a LONG time to get to that, but say you two are watching a movie and he ends up resting his head on your shoulder, gingerly nuzzling into your neck and then, before either of you know it, he falls asleep.

According to himself, one of the best nights of sleep he's ever gotten. And that begs the thought, was it you specifically? yes it was

He thinks about it, and overtime notices he's less anxious around you, his inner turmoil finds pause in your arms, and soon enough he's wrapped around your abdomen as many nights as he can get - and if you're willing. You've a calm presence, a soothing soul and your touch is a balm to the many wounds he's earned and suffered, both physical and mental - murder takes its toll on everyone. He'll rarely say it, but your calm is one of the things that's kept him relatively normal.

100% snuggle switch, loves being the little spoon on darker nights, where the intrusive memories and haunting thoughts return to drive him insane; loves being the big spoon when he's in a protective or possessive mood. If he's feeling affectionate he'll be your personal koala. "Haah. You're many things, Y/N, but you're not false and I pray - for both our sakes - that we'll remain together, that I can stay together with you. For you...I'm willing to try." OR... "Hello. Goodnight." *snores in Japanese*

Hyugo will sometimes decide to flirt with you. If you're calm enough to not appear fazed, he's gonna be the biggest tease possible, kissing either your neck or cheek when he's off to do whatever. Enjoys seeing your reactions to things he does, it brings him immense joy to have you feeling - and expressing - your contentment.

May or may not mutter itadakimasu before annihilating your cunt. May or may not get extremely horny at the prospect of feeling so at ease in your arms, because while being inside your arms are nice, he can think of a few places that'd also be real nice to fit in.

I'd also like to say I'm betting my amygdala on the fact that Hyugo sounds really melodious when he whines. He loves being touched, also. If he feels safe with you, you holding him or touching him makes him feel heavenly. He loves it, and he definitely grows to loving you as well.

In Crowe's case, you've already been friends ages, but even from the second his gaze landed on you he knew he was gone. Despite your camaraderie starting during the pinnacle of a fight he'd thrown himself into to aid you, feeding his newly innate desire - need - to protect you...he knew he was gone.

He probably hadn't realized the extent of it, but even after that fight ended and especially when you finally accepted his hand in friendship, seeing that stoic and distrustful glare turn into a gaze of a simmering warmth, a soothing calm and acceptance. In short, he found you ethereal.

And it was over the course of this friendship that he recognised how truly trustworthy and reliable you are. You're non-judgmental, you voice your concerns, you remain a force of stability amongst the dramas and chaos that is university. You provide a calm to his boisterous and troubled life. You're got an authenticity about you, another trait that Crowe adores you for.

He's got baggage, he knows it, yet with you he feels unburdened. Free from all the shit that's piling up behind the scenes, the rumours and the scandals and the insanity. You offer him a respite from that. An escape, one he ironically enough wants to be trapped in forever, as long as you allow it.

Crowe enjoys making playful remarks, flirtatious compliments; especially when he's jealous or feeling particularly bold. Typically you either bite and flirt back, or coolly brush it off, giving a snarky "I know." or "I'm honoured you think of me so highly."

Anyway Crowe catches on to his own feelings rather quickly, and is the most logical about acting on them. He aids you with homework, studies alongside you, spends as much time with you as possible. But as the years of uni go by, you both grow more distant due to busy schedules and a general social growth and/or decline on your part.

Crowe became a council member, the class president, gaining leadership roles and popularity as time went on, but at the end of the day; nobody - not even his current friendgroup, as awesome as they are - can compare to how safe and genuinely at peace he was with you. By your side.

Now let me say, for the sake of the argument and these HCs, that one day you both lovedrunkenly confess under the stars and have primal carnal sex and in general are so intuned with one-another spiritually physically emotionally that you guys end up together, like how you were always destined to be.

In terms of dating, Crowe will amp up his flirting, especially if you react to it subtly, or indicate you like it. He respects your boundaries of course, that'll never change. He also gets the #malewife title btw.

When you both end up sleeping in the same bed, it doesn't take too long for that to happen, considering how long you've known each other, and while yes sometimes you two go at it and have more carnal loving heated passionate *coughs*...ah, sorry. Anyway! Despite how invested you both are in each other, on nights where it's quiet, where you're listening to each other's heartbeats and breaths (a DJ can make a backing track just from that tbh), Crowe holds you in his arms and resists the urge to weep. Because he has you, in his arms, in his bed, in his heart and soul; and you have him in your heart, your mind, sometimes even between your thighs.

He's so in love with you it's beyond words, touches or gifts. He feels so safe and loved with you, knowing you'll support and defend him as passionately as he does you...and his heart swells.

Will typically serve as the big spoon, loves holding you in his arms, pressing you to his chest and feeling you softly breathe on his skin. Can be a little spoon sometimes, and whenever you wrap yourself around him, he sleeps a tad more soundly than he would normally with you.

"I love you...God I love you so much it hurts..."

OR

"Darling, you're everything to me...and you always were and will be. Eternally."

[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?�� you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[selineram3421]

This has been in my drafts for a while.

The Slip Up

Alastor & Child Reader

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ food mention, cussing, terrible cooking decisions, moving dolls, sharing childhood trauma, mentions of murder ⚠

You were sitting on the kitchen counter, watching Angel try to make something called zuppa.

But it was turning out like a pile of brown goop.

"Fucking damn it!", the spider demon cussed as he tried to get the wooden spoon out of the food. "What the hell!? I followed the damn recipe!"

Taking a peek at the cook book, you saw what the food was supposed to look like and the instructions of how to make it. So far, Angel did everything, but in the wrong order.

"I think you jumped a few times..", you mumbled.

"Huh?", the fluffy demon responded but did not look back at the book.

"Do we have tomatoes?", you wondered out loud.

Then you see Alastor step out of the shadows and he makes his way over to look at the cook book.

"Creamy Tomato soup?", he reads.

"Oh, I couldn't find the tomatoes so I used ketchup."

You heard the static grow louder from the deer demon.

While the Radio Demon approaches the spider, he grabs slices of bread and finds brown slop instead of soup.

"Angel..", his smile is strained. "What is this?"

"Zuppa!"

With a quick maneuver, the demon in red gets the cook book and shows the fluffy white demon the image of what the soup should look like.

"Why is it brown? It should be orange.", then he points at the ingredients. "We have all of these ingredients! Why are you using ketchup!?"

"Like I told the little one, couldn't find them.", the spider says and tries to stir the spoon in the pot but it's still stuck.

Having enough, the Radio Demon tells the film star to eat the "soup."

Angel, not understanding what was wrong, eats the goop and then starts to cough.

"Oh shit!", he coughed again. "Ketchup was not the answer."

With a slap of bread on each side of the spider's face, Alastor asks a question. "What are you?", with a smile unnaturally wide due to annoyance.

"I'm -"

"You're an idiot sandwich.", he said.

You saw his antlers grow really big before it went back to normal.

"Now, tell me what you are?"

"An idiot sandwich.." Angel mumbles sadly, not even looking up to meet the Radio Demon's gaze.

"Haha! Papa called you an idiot!", you laughed but stopped after realizing just what you had said.

....

The two tall demons were quiet as they stared at you surprised.

Slowly, you got down from the counter, not breaking eye contact as you did so and then once your feet touched the floor, you quickly ran out of the kitchen.

.

Alastor was shocked.

Did they just call me Papa?

"Al?"

He's never heard that before.

Do they really see me in such a light?

"Hello?"

I did pick them up and cared for them.

"Oy."

Gave them food, shelter, and toys.. They gave me that card on Father's Day. I suppose I am like a father figure.

"Smiles!"

Snapping out of thought, the deer demon released the spider and tossed the bread before making his way to the door.

"Ah, yes.", he said and looked back at the film star. "Follow the recipe by the book or I'll do worse than that silly humiliation."

Alastor left before the arachnid could reply. He had something else to do and that was to check on his little terror.

Entering his hotel room, he looks around the space and tries to see if he can spot them.

"Little one?", he called out.

As he was searching for the little demon, he wondered why they ran away.

Perhaps they were scared? I don't understand though, I would never lay a hand on them... Maybe their actual father didn't like them and forbade them from calling him as such.

"My little nightmare, I'm not angry. Please come out and talk to me?"

But everything was still and silent.

Turning to the sliding door, he knocked before opening it, finding the stuffed animals that were on the bed. Staring at him.

Ah, yes. Their impenetrable army of stuffed animals.

"I'll-". he began but as soon as he took another step, the stuffed animals heads snapped up to meet his eyes. "...stay at the door."

"To be honest, it took me by surprise when you called me..Papa. And I can understand your fear of my reaction.", he sighed. "I was barely able to call my father, the loathsome scum, such a title."

"He'd yell at me sometimes..", they spoke up from somewhere in the room. "But that was when he had his smelly juice and when he was really mad."

Looking around the room, the radio demon noticed that the rug was kicked up a bit near the bed and knelt down. Taking a look under the bed, he found their hiding place.

"Why was he always mad?", they whispered to themselves.

"A question I've always asked as well.", Alastor said as he extended a hand out to the little demon.

They reached out slowly and took his hand.

"There we go.", he gently got them out from under the bed and held them as he stood up. "You can keep calling me Papa, I don't mind it."

"Really?", they asked with a hopeful look in their eyes.

"Yes, I'm more than alright with it.", he said and gave them a reassuring pat on the head.

They smiled and wrapped their arms around his neck, giving him a hug.

.

You were waiting for Alastor to pick you up from school. Standing by the gate with Ms. Mayberry, who surprisingly stopped smoking whenever you were around.

Somewhat bored, you looked around the school yard and saw some of the other kids waiting, having fun bullying each other. You grinned when they avoided eye contact with you. Mostly because you killed more annoying kids on the bus.

"Mon petite!"

Looking up, there stood your adoptive parent.

"Papa!", you cheered, running over to the tall red dressed demon.

He took your hand and both of you headed back to the hotel.

"Tell me, how was your day?"

"I decapitated someone on the bus today!"

I couldn't get the image of Alastor calling Angel an idiot sandwich out of my head. I'm not sorry.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches (More in the comments.)

ML II Alastor🎙️

[softspiderling]

rafe cutting up fruit in the kitchen from the valentine's day i love you prompts??

prompt: shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl from the valentines "i love you" prompts

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

The other side of the bed was cold when you woke up, which was odd. Usually, you had to be the one dragging Rafe out of the bed, when he didn't have any plans in the morning, always lamenting that he "needed his beauty rest". You checked your phone to see if he left you any messages that he had to run out, but nothing.

"Huh," you muttered to yourself, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and getting out of bed. You considered trying to call him as you made your way downstairs, pausing when you heard cluttering from the kitchen.

"... Rafe?"

The cluttering stopped and you heard Rafe curse under his breath, your lips curling up in a grin as you stood frozen on the stairs.

"You think you can give me like, five more minutes, baby?"

"Trying to hide your side piece?"

You could basically see Rafe rolling his eyes at you, and you bit back a laugh.

"Feeling like a real comedian today, huh?"

"I'm hilarious, actually," you deadpanned, padding towards the kitchen, only stopping when Rafe called out your name, almost pleading.

"Five minutes. "

Sighing softly, you tipped your head back in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Just- Go back to bed. I'll be right up. Five minutes, I swear."

"Fine," you sighed, turning back around. "Not a second longer, Cameron, you hear me?"

You headed back upstairs, stopping by the bathroom to brush your teeth and tame your hair, before you crawled back into bed, checking the time. Even though you had just threatened to return back downstairs as soon as the five minutes were up, you decided to be less of a menace for once, scrolling on the phone until you heard Rafe coming back upstairs. You were all ready to tease him as soon as he stepped into the bedroom, but your words died in your throat when he came in, back first, turning to face you with a breakfast tray in his hands.

"Rafe..." you said softly, eyes wide as he slowly placed the tray on the bed. Pancakes, fruit salad, coffee, bacon, even orange juice were spread out in front of you.

"Morning baby."

He kissed you on the cheek before sitting back, grinning brightly at you.

"You hungry?"

You only nodded dumbly, opening your mouth when he lifted a spoon full of fruit salad and you almost moaned when the tiny pieces of fruit hit your tongue.

"Oh my god, this is amazing."

"Touch of lemon juice and honey does wonders," Rafe said, eating a spoon himself, but you only narrowed your eyes at him.

"Did you do this yourself?"

Rafe gave you a look and you gave him one back, lifting the bowl of fruit salad, as if to make your point.

"You cannot seriously tell me that you cut all this fruit up yourself. And made pancakes."

"You sound surprised."

You snorted, putting the bowl back down. "Didn't you guys have a cook and everything in the prime time? Sue me for thinking you're helpless in the kitchen."

"Well, joke's on you for underestimating a Kook," he teased, handing you a coffee mug, which you sipped you accepted, holding it carefully. "I uh.... Used to make breakfast for my dad. Me and Sarah. He always thanked Sarah like she did it all on her own and never said a word to me, so after a while I just... Stopped. But I figured you'd be a little more grateful than him."

Holding your mug, you stared at Rafe, your heart almost breaking for the poor boy in front of you.

"Rafe..."

He looked up and huffed, shaking his head. "Stop looking at me like that. 's fine, I got you now, right?"

"Of course," you said with a big smile, picking up a strip of bacon with your hand, to which Rafe only pulled a face.

"God, you can never take the Pogue out of a girl, can you?"

⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠂⠄☆

a/n: it was so easy to go down the route of rafe not knowing how to do anything in the kitchen except destroy it but i took a diff approach heheheh thanks anon for the request i hoped you liked it!! inbox is open my friends!! also tagging @sunderlust bc i can

[genshinluvr]

Pictures of a Shining Star

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Nanook's sudden disappearance has left you feeling sad. To cheer you up, and without your knowledge, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, Caelus, March, and Himeko decided to get you a phone! March appoints herself as your unofficial official photographer and decides to take pictures of the littlest things for you and sends them your (and the men's) way.

Note: This took me a while to post because I was distracted by HSR. I made a new HSR account and was finishing up the quest in Belobog. So, yeah, that's why it took me a while to continue, finish, and post this fic 💀 This fic is longer than the first two fics I posted in the HSR series, so I hope you all enjoy this fic 🥹 After posting this fic on Tumblr and AO3, I'm heading to bed. I'll make and post the mini-fic for the Isekai Genshin series when I wake up because I've been lacking sleep. I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Kind of starts off depressing in the beginning

Word Count: 9.7k

You expect to see Nanook when you wake up in the abyss, but unfortunately, you do not see the tall figure that once towered over you when you woke up in the void. The same tall figure you first met in the state of unconsciousness when you first arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu not long ago. This was the fifth time you didn’t see Nanook in your dreams, and the last time you talked to Nanook felt like ages ago.

Now, here you are, sitting at the table in the Astral Express, shoving a spoon full of cereal into your mouth before munching it glumly. From a distance, March, Himeko, Dan Heng, Mr. Yang, and Caelus look at you worriedly. If the others had to be honest, you look like shit. You have bags under your eyes, your hair is unkempt— you did wake up from your sleep not long ago and didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas or brush your hair before leaving your room— and you look very upset.

Himeko clears her throat. “Does anyone want to speak to [Y/N]? They look upset. Did something happen?” asks Himeko, looking at the four people beside her.

March sighs, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ever since [Y/N] regained their memories, they’ve been a little bit off. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of communication with the Aeon or if it was because they’re not in their universe,” March replies before letting out another sad sigh.

Dan Heng opens his mouth to comment, but a porcelain bowl scraping and squeaking across the table cuts him off. You push the bowl to the side, laying your head on the table and closing your eyes. You weren’t sure why the lack of Nanook was hurting you. Perhaps it’s because Nanook was the first…. Person (being?)…. You met in this universe. 

That, and because Nanook told you that the both of you will meet face-to-face soon, only to disappear without a trace. Gosh, you want to be mad at Nanook, but you can’t get yourself to be upset. Plus, you have another can of worms to deal with, and that is learning how to survive in another universe without accidentally getting yourself killed. 

Footsteps approach your table, and the chair in front of you slides out from underneath the table. You open your eyes and turn to see Mr. Yang sitting across from you. You blink at the older man before sitting up, running your fingers through your unkempt hair. Mr. Yang leans in his seat and clears his throat, sliding the chair closer to the table.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asks Mr. Yang, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.

You shake your head, resting your chin on the table. “Not really. I’m afraid that if I talk about it, I’ll start crying,” you mumble, letting yourself stare off into space. 

You and Mr. Yang sat in silence. Dan Heng, March, and Caelus slowly make their way toward the table where you and Mr. Yang are sitting. March sits beside you, while Dan Heng and Caelus sit beside Mr. Yang. 

March rests her chin on the table before pressing her cheek on the cool tabletop. “How are you feeling, [Y/N]? You woke up late today,” says March, poking your cheek lightly with her manicured nails. 

You hum, closing your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Too many things were occupying my mind, and it kept me up most of the night,” you reply.

March gives you a sympathetic smile. “Oh, cheer up, [Y/N]! We got something that’ll cheer you up!” says March, looking at the three men sitting before you and her. The three men stare at March blankly, making the girl laugh nervously. “I saaaaid, ‘We got something that’ll cheer you up!’” 

Again, the three men continue to give March a blank stare. You look between March and the three men sitting before you, confused about what’s supposed to happen. March lets out an exasperated groan, throwing her head back out of frustration. In the distance, Himeko is giggling in the corner with Pom-Pom beside her, shaking his head with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Were we supposed to do something?” Dan Heng asks, raising an eyebrow at March.

March nods rapidly. “Yes! When I said that we have something that’ll cheer [Y/N] up, that was supposed to be your cue!” March exclaims, throwing her hands in the air before rubbing her throbbing temples with a frustrated sigh. 

Caelus laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, we weren’t informed of this so-called cue of yours,” Caelus interjects, puckering his lips while staring at the fuming pink-haired girl in front of him.

You reach for your bowl of cereal to slurp the milk, but March unintentionally smacks it out of your hand, sending the bowl in the air before it shatters into a huge mess. You, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, March, and Caelus stare at the mess on the glossy tile floor. Pom-Pom waddles to your table, glaring at the pink-haired girl.

“You made a mess!” exclaims Pom-Pom, crossing his arms over his chest with a small growl. “Do you know I work tirelessly to make sure the Astral Express is in tip-top shape!?” 

March laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, Pom-Pom! I-I didn’t mean to smack the bowl from [Y/N]’s hands!” March apologizes. 

You get up from your seat, grab a napkin from the table and begin cleaning up the mess. Pom-Pom grumbles under his breath before waddling off. While you’re cleaning up the mess, March is giving the three men an earful while making sure you didn’t hear the conversation. While you’re wiping up the mess, someone walks up to you, stopping in front of the shattered bowl. You look up to see Caelus, who kneels in front of you and holds a box out to you. You stare at the box before grabbing it from Caelus’ hand. 

“What’s this? You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” you murmur, unwrapping the box while Caelus watches you with eagle eyes. 

Caelus clears his throat. “We got it for you because it’s the best way to communicate with each other while we’re far away. In case you’re on the Astral Express and we’re at Belobog or the Xianzhou Luofu, you can reach out to any of us,” replies Caelus.

Your heart sinks into your chest. “Oh, no. You guys got me a phone?” You ask, looking at Caelus and the other three with disbelief. 

It’s not like you were opposed to getting a phone, but you didn’t think they would buy you a phone themselves. Especially since they bought it without your knowledge. You hand the box back to Caelus before picking up the broken pieces of the bowl, placing them on the napkin, and tossing them away into the trash. You grab a broom and begin sweeping the tiny pieces into the dustpan.

Dan Heng looks at you quizzically. “Did you not want us to get you a phone? If we didn’t get you one, how would we be able to contact you while we’re far away or end up getting separated?” Dan Heng asks.

“Plus, when we go Trailblazing together, you can make new memories with us! I volunteer to be your photographer!” March says proudly, raising her hands in the air with a big smile. 

You stroke your chin, staring at the ground. “New memories, huh?” You murmur. “I’m not opposed to making new memories with you guys.”

March perks up and cheers loudly before bouncing over to you and throwing her arms around your shoulders with glee. You snort and wrap your arm around her, making sure not to drop the broom on the ground. After cleaning the mess on the floor, March dragged you to the nearest chair and had you set your phone up while Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang hung around in case you needed any assistance with setting up your phone.

“Oooh! You know what we should do after [Y/N] officially sets their phone up?” March asks, clapping her hands with excitement.

Mr. Yang stares at March, raising his eyebrows at the pink-haired girl. “And what is that?” asks Mr. Yang.

“We should take pictures! Lots and lots of ‘em!” exclaims March. “And as [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, I will be the one to take all of the pictures!” 

Once your phone is officially set up, March begins passing your phone around so other people can start saving their phone numbers into your phone before adding your number to their phone. Once your phone returns to you, you put your phone in your pocket, but March stops you.

She holds her hand out in front of you. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t put your phone away just yet, [Y/N]! We still need to take pictures! I am not letting you walk around without a background for your home and lock screen!” says March, propping her other hand on her hips.

You stare at the girl in front of you. “We can do that after I’m done getting ready? I don’t want to look like a mess in the pictures,” you say.

“Pfft! It’s okay! It’s not like the photos are leaving your phone anyway!” March says.

You shake your head. “Still, I want to look decent,” you mumble.

Realization hits March a few seconds later, and her eyes light up. A smile stretches across her face, giving you a knowing look. You stare at March, heat rushing to your cheeks. You’re hoping no one aside from March notices your change of demeanor. Plus, if March is going to be your unofficial official photographer, you might as well try to look your best in the photos, right? Especially when other people will end up in the pictures soon.

March pretends to let out an exasperated sigh, slumping forward. “Alright, alright! As a professional and your unofficial official photographer, I cannot have you look terrible in your pictures. You may go get ready and freshen up for the pictures…. As long as you give me your phone before getting ready!” says March, holding her hand out.

You shrug your shoulders and hand your phone over to March without questioning her. You walk to your room to get ready for the day after multiple delays before breakfast. After getting ready for the day, you return to where the others are waiting for you, only to see March take a selfie with Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and Himeko. March looks up from your phone, and she beams at you with excitement.

“You’re back! And don’t you look cute! Trying to impress a certain someone?” March teases, poking you when you stand beside her.

You huff and look away from March, snatching your phone from her hands. “How many pictures did you take on my phone while I was away?” You ask, scrolling through your gallery.

March giggles, swaying to the side while watching you search for your gallery. The way you’re scrolling through your phone and searching for the gallery reminds her of Mr. Yang. She wonders if you know how to change profile pictures, unlike Mr. Yang. Poor guy couldn't figure it out and tried to message Caelus about it, only for Caelus to be no help at all. After two minutes of searching for the gallery, you finally found it. Once you clicked the gallery app, your eyes nearly popped out of your head.

“Two hundred?! How are there almost two hundred pictures in the gallery already, March?!” You screeched, turning to look at March incredulously. 

March holds her hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, hey! Taking pictures wasn’t the only thing I did, alright? I also added you to our group chat!” March says, clicking through your phone and showing you the group chat she added you to.

The Astral Express Family. That’s cute. 

March claps her hands. “Okay! Now that [Y/N] is finished with cutesy-ing up for a special someone, let's take pictures now!” March announces.

“Oh? Who’re you ‘cutesy-ing’ up for, [Y/N]?” asks Mr. Yang, approaching you with Dan Heng and Caelus at his side.

Your eyes widen, and you squeak, “Uh! Me? Cutesy-ing up for someone? I’m not cutesy-ing up for anyone, Mr. Yang! I just want to look decent in the pictures in case someone,” you look at March with a glare, “sends the pictures around!” 

Mr. Yang raises his eyebrows at your response, a faint smirk appearing on his face as he gazes at you with amusement. You feel your face heat up as you press your lips into a thin line before nudging March’s side. March snickers and guides you to the front of the three men before standing beside you. Himeko stands beside March, and the six of you take a group selfie. The following picture was of you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus. Then the next was of you, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang.

This went on for a while, and the next thing you know, as you had expected, March has you send the pictures to the Astral Express Family group chat for everyone to save on their phones. You didn’t think March was going to have you send the images to the group chat, but boy, you’re glad you decided to, and you quote from March, cutesy up for the photos. You sure as hell did not want any of them to have an awful picture of you on their phones. You’re okay with sending the photos to each person individually if they wish to have the images. Still, March suggested sending it through the group chat to save some time. 

While in the midst of sending the last ten photos to the group chat, March skips up to you and loops her arms around yours, diverting your attention from your phone. 

“So! Are you ready to go to Belobog? Gepard and Sampo kept pestering Caelus about wanting to see you,” says March, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a teasing smile. “Right, Caelus?” March asks, leaning to the side to look at the silver-haired male.

Caelus approaches you and March with Mr. Yang and Dan Heng at his side. “I wouldn’t say that. Both Gepard and Sampo talked about wanting to hang out with us again before we go to the Xianzhou Luofu. I think it’d be nice to hang out with the two of them before we visit the Xianzhou Luofu,” says Caelus. 

You blink at Caelus, March, Mr. Yang, and Dan Heng. “Wait, we’re stopping by the Xianzhou Luofu today after we stop by Belobog?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. 

Mr. Yang looks at the time before sighing. “That is if we have time. Who knows how long we will be at Belobog,” replies Mr. Yang.

Everyone walks to the Parlor Car and begins taking their seats after Pom-Pom announces the Astral Express is taking off soon. You sit on the couch beside March and close your eyes, resting your head on the back cushions, bracing yourself for take off. You still weren’t used to the feeling of the Astral Express traversing through space, and it sometimes made you feel nauseous and dizzy. 

You poke March’s arm to grab her attention. March looks up from her phone and scoots close when you gesture for her to come closer. “I’m going to take a nap. Can you wake me up when we arrive at Jarilo-VI or Belobog?”

March nods before looking back at her phone. You close your eyes and relax against the cushions. Your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly drift to sleep. When you open your eyes, you’re back in the abyss. The stars glimmer around you, and the void is silent. It’s so quiet that if you were to listen closely, you would’ve been able to hear your heart beating against your chest.

“You’re here,” says a familiar voice.

You turn your head and see Nanook towering over you. Nanook gazes at you with glowing gold eyes as you take a step closer. You weren’t sure if Nanook was okay with you getting any closer, but since you didn’t see any negative reaction, you stopped in front of Nanook’s towering form.

You give Nanook a smile. “I should be the one to say that. After all, you’re the one that completely disappeared after that incident,” you say, sitting on the ground. “Where did you go? Were you upset with me by any chance?” You ask, hugging your knees to your chest. 

Nanook hums, refusing to look away from you. “That, I cannot answer. But what I can tell you is that we will be face-to-face in person very soon. I apologize if I made you worried. That was never my intention,” says Nanook, smiling at you.

You pucker your lips before turning around, having your back face Nanook’s direction. Nanook blinks at you quizzically, staring at your back while you stare into the void. Nanook’s lips twitch, trying to fight back a smile that’s forming. Even though Nanook has known you for a short amount of time, Nanook can tell that you’re sulking. 

Nanook pokes you. “Are you upset with me? You’re not upset with me, are you?” asks Nanook, poking your back for the second time.

You huff in response, letting yourself fall over on your side, still hugging your knees to your chest. Nanook lets out an amused laugh before gently sliding his hands underneath your body and lifting you. Nanook stares at you while you continue to have your back facing his direction. Nanook sighs and caresses your hair while you continue to sulk in silence.

Nanook looks down at you, his face a few feet from your body. “If I made you upset and worried, I apologize. Will you forgive me?” Nanook murmurs.

Nanook hears a faint sigh coming from you. You roll over to face the towering silver-white-haired figure before you, staring at him while lying in the palm of his hands. You and Nanook stare at each other without saying a word. You weren’t mad at Nanook. 

But you were worried to the point where you’d try to take as many naps as you could just so you could see the Aeon, making sure you could still communicate with each other. Each time you don’t see Nanook, you can’t help but feel discouraged. And since there wasn’t a way for you to communicate with Nanook outside of your dreams, and Nanook is the one that can make it happen, you feel helpless. 

After all, Nanook is the first being you talked to, and Nanook did bring you into this universe. You and many people around you have no idea how the Aeon was able to take you away from your world and plop you into their universe without warning. You grab Nanook’s finger and hug them to your chest.

“I’m not mad at you. You did, however, make me worry about you. I thought I did something to upset you, causing you to ignore me for weeks!” You say, frowning at the Aeon before you.

Nanook blinks at you. “Little one, I wasn’t ignoring you for weeks,” replies Nanook, a smile gracing those gorgeous features. 

“Well, to me, it felt like weeks! I….” you trailed off with a sharp intake of breath. “I was hoping to see you after you disappeared all of a sudden, but I couldn’t reach out to you. There wasn’t another way for me to talk to you.”

Nanook strokes your cheek, frowning. “I really do apologize for disappearing out of the blue. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel this way. Can you forgive me, little one?” asks Nanook, brushing your hair from your face. 

You wanted to play hard to get, but you can’t. Not when Nanook is giving you what looks like puppy dog eyes. You sit up and nod slowly. A wide smile appears on Nanook’s face. You press your lips into a thin line when you see Nanook’s smile. Nanook puts you on the ground suddenly, disappearing before your sight.

You blink, getting up from the ground, and begin searching around the void for the Aeon. Oh gosh, why did Nanook disappear out of nowhere like last time? Last time Nanook looked upset, but before Nanook put you on the ground, he was smiling. While you are occupied with searching for Nanook, you feel a tap on your shoulders. You turn to see Nanook standing behind you, no longer the once towering figure above you.

Before you can scold him for disappearing so suddenly, Nanook grabs you by your wrist, pulls you to his chest, and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. You close your eyes and relax in Nanook’s arms, wrapping your arms around his waist. Despite the open wounds on Nanook’s body and gold blood flowing from the wounds like water, you let Nanook hug you tightly against his chest.

“It feels nice to have you in my arms,” you hear Nanook whisper, feeling Nanook press a kiss on your forehead.

You close your eyes, relaxing in Nanook’s arms. It really does feel nice to be in Nanook’s arms. Being in Nanook’s arms is so comfortable compared to sleeping on your bed. The world around you slowly becomes dark, and before you know it, you wake up to someone shaking you awake. You groan and try to swat the hand away, hoping it’ll make the person stop shaking you. 

You hear an obnoxious laugh. “Oh, wow, Gumdrop! You really are a heavy sleeper like what March said,” the person laughs.

Sampo. 

“Come on, Gumdrop! I know you can hear me! If you had those foxian ears, it would’ve been twitching right now because you love the sound of my voice, don’tcha, Gumdrop?” Sampo asks teasingly.

You feel, you presume, Sampo brushes your hair away from your face before caressing your face with his large hands. You hear someone let out an annoyed sigh. You weren’t sure who it was exactly, but it was either Dan Heng, Gepard, or Mr. Yang. 

“Your failed flirting tactic isn’t going to wake [Y/N] up from their slumber,” Dan Heng mutters.

You can hear the irritation in his voice as Sampo continues to caress your face and stroke your cheek with his thumb. You want to continue to sleep. You’re so tired, and your limbs feel like lead. You hear a faint click. 

“Why are you taking a picture of them sleeping in your arms, Sampo? It’s a little creepy for you to do that,” Gepard mutters.

You hear Sampo let out a scandalous gasp. “What? It’s not creepy! [Y/N] looks so cute when they’re sleeping! How can you not want to take a picture of their cute face when they’re sleeping?” Sampo asks.

March makes a ‘meh’ sound before drawing out a sigh. “Gepard’s right on this one, Sampo. As [Y/N]’s unofficial official photographer, even I wouldn’t do something like this,” says March.

You grumble in response and slowly open your eyes. As your eyes gradually adjust to the light around you, you see Sampo grinning down at you through your blurry vision. You bring your hand up to your eyes, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You look around to see people circling around you, watching you regain consciousness. 

Gepard gives you a tiny smile. “You’re awake. You were sleeping for a while,” comments Gepard, sweeping your hair away from your face when the wind blows it onto your face.

You adjust yourself to sit up in Sampo’s arms, stretching your arms while Sampo wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling up against you. While you’re trying to force yourself to be awake, the others around you are glaring daggers at Sampo. Mr. Yang subtly smacks Sampo’s arms from your waist while glaring at the merchant. 

Gepard holds his hands out for you to take. You smile at Gepard and grab ahold of his hand before standing up. Sampo pouts and crosses his arms over his chest when you get off of his lap. Still feeling exhausted and disoriented from your nap, you rub your eyes with your knuckles really hard.

Gepard grabs your hand to stop you from rubbing your eyes any longer. You stare at Gepard sleepily before looking around. You’re in Belobog now, and somehow you didn’t wake up to the sound of bustling crowds or to the feeling of someone picking you up and carrying you out of the Astral Express. You turn to look at March, Dan Heng, Caelus, and Mr. Yang. 

“How did I end up here? I thought you guys were going to wake me up before we got off the Astral Express,” you say, running your hands through your hair.

The crisp air of Belobog sends chills down your spine, making you visibly shiver while rubbing your arms. The brisk air nipping at your skin, causing goosebumps to prick on your arms. Noticing your slight discomfort with the temperature of Belobog, Mr. Yang takes his coat off before draping it over your shoulders. You’re immediately engulfed in warmth, making you sigh with contentment.

You smiled at the brown-haired man and mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the stoic man. Mr. Yang nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. At that moment, you hear a faint click of a camera but ignore it. You feel the cold nip at your nose and cheeks, making you press your cold hand against your face. Everyone around you seems unbothered by the chilly air of Belobog while you are shivering in your shoes and Mr. Yang’s coat.

Gepard crosses his arms over his chest and gestures to Sampo. “When the Astral Express landed on Belobog, Sampo entered the Express to greet all of you. You were sleeping on the couch in the Astral Express, and March 7th was trying to wake you up. Of course, you didn’t wake up, and Sampo volunteered to carry you,” replies Gepard. 

You turn to look at March, who waddles up to you before linking her arms around yours. You yawn and nod, not questioning why they didn’t leave you on the Astral Express if you weren’t waking up. March nudges you lightly to get your attention. You look at March, blinking at the pink-haired girl owlishly.

March leans to whisper into your ears. “While you were asleep, I put Sampo and Gepard’s number into your phone while they added you to their contacts list. Was that okay?” asks March.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine with me! As long as you didn’t take any unflattering pictures of me while I was napping,” you reply.

March stares at you with wide eyes before looking away sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck with a nervous laugh. You narrow your eyes at March’s strange behavior. You unloop your arms from March’s arm, crossing your arms over your chest while staring her down. 

March puffs her cheeks and points at the others around you two. “I’m not the only one that took unflattering pictures of you, you know! They did it too! In fact, Sampo was the first person to do it!” March exclaims, sticking her nose in the air with a loud huff.

You sigh and run your hands through your hair. There are too many people to scold, and you’re too hungry to scold anyone individually. Your phone chimes, and you look at your phone to see a new text message from Sampo. It was a picture of you knocked out in his arms while he was smiling widely at the camera. You groan internally, covering your face with your hand. You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and you can’t tell if it is from the cold or if it’s from embarrassment.

Sampo struts over to you and throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side. “I think you look adorable when you’re asleep, Gumdrop! I hope you don’t mind that I made it my home screen background,” says Sampo, patting your head. 

Well, at least in this world, you’re someone’s phone background. You smile at Sampo and shake your head. “I don’t mind it as long as it’s not an embarrassing picture of me,” you reply.

“Are we going to do something, or are we going to stand around all day and do nothing in Belobog?” asks Dan Heng, raising his eyebrows at Sampo and Gepard.

Gepard clears his throat, nodding. “Ah, yes, right. Please, follow me as I show you around the Administrative District,” says Gepard, gesturing to you all to follow him while casting a glance in your and Sampo’s direction.

The tour around the Administrative District would have been even better if it wasn’t for the cold. While there are heaters around the area, it’s not enough for you to warm up, and not even Mr. Yang’s coat can keep you warm from the bitter cold. It could be worse. At least it’s not in some mountain surrounded by five feet of snow.

The flower shop, from a distance, grabs your attention. It looks inviting and very warm. Oh, you bet the flower shop is nice and warm on the inside compared to the outside. Without looking away from the flower shop, you grab the nearest person’s arm and tug on their shirt sleeve, pointing at the flower shop. 

“Can we go into the flower shop?” You ask, continuing to tug on the sleeves.

The person hums. “Do you want to look at the flowers?” asks Caelus, gazing down at you and then at the flower shop.

You blink at Caelus and slowly nod. “Yeah! I also want to go in there because it’s really cold, and my hands are freezing,” you reply, pressing your cold hands against Caelus’ warm cheeks.

Caelus flinches and grabs your hands while you’re trying to get warm by pressing yourself against his side. Caelus chuckles and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your hands with his to create heat for your freezing hands. You shiver, pouting while sniffling dramatically. Caelus stifles his laugh, shaking his head. 

While you were pouting and huddling close to Caelus, letting him rub your hands together to create heat, March pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the two of you. Caelus walks over to the men with you waddling beside him, your hands remaining in his grasp.

“Hey, so [Y/N] wants to go into the flower shop to warm up. Is that okay?” asks Caelus, continuing to rub his hands with yours.

Mr. Yang nods. “That’s fine with us. Is my coat not keeping them warm enough?” asks Mr. Yang as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You stare at Mr. Yang with your mouth agape. The man isn’t wearing the coat he gave you, and yet he’s not freezing or shivering like you. Heck, you don’t even see a single goosebump on this man’s arm! Then again, he’s wearing a long sleeve shirt, so you technically can’t tell if he’s cold or not. 

You press yourself against Caelus’ side. “Are you not cold, Mr. Yang?” You ask.

Mr. Yang shakes his head. “No, I’m not cold. Maybe you’re not used to the weather here,” Mr. Yang answers. 

After getting confirmation that you can go into the flower shop, you pull your hands out from Caelus’ grasp before jogging to the flower shop without hesitation. Caelus sighs, tucking his hands in his pockets before following after you. March skips up to Caelus happily, showing him her phone. Caelus pauses in his steps and presses his lips into a thin line.

“Can you send that to me?” Caelus asks shyly.

March grins at Caelus, wiggling her eyebrows at the silver-haired man before nodding. “Sure! Would you like for me to send it in the group chat or just to you?” 

Before Caelus can reply, Sampo, Mr. Yang, Dan Heng, and Gepard walk up to them. Caelus clears his throat, signaling to March that they’ll continue the conversation another time. March sighs and rolls her eyes, walking up the steps of the small flower shop. When everyone walks into the Eversummer Florist, the first thing they see is you taking pictures of the flowers while Vaska is explaining to you what each flower symbolizes. 

“So! Has anyone ever bought you flowers, dear customer?” asks Vaska, gazing at you curiously. 

You blush and tuck your hair behind your ear. How do you explain to Vaska that no one has ever bought you flowers, whether as a gift or in general? The sound of the bell chiming alerts you and Vaska of new customers, only for you to realize it’s your friends and not random customers. 

You clear your throat. “Oh, uh, no! No one has ever bought me flowers before, Vaska. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to look around!” You say.

Vaska smiles and nods, walking away to other customers that call her over for assistance. You sigh in relief and take Mr. Yang’s coat off, handing it to the brown-haired man while looking around the flower shop. 

Sampo grabs your hand and presses a kiss on your knuckles. “May I be the first person to buy you flowers? A person as beautiful as you deserves to be spoiled with the prettiest and most vibrant flowers to exist in Belobog,” says Sampo, winking at you.

Dan Heng raises his eyebrows at Sampo. “Are you sure you’ll be able to buy every flower in the flower shop for [Y/N]?”

Gepard hums, crossing his arms over his chest while looking around the flower shop. “Flowers can be expensive depending on what type of flower you want and how you want them to be arranged,” Gepard interjects.

March raises her eyebrows at the Captain of the Silvermane Guards, propping her hands on her hips while leaning on one leg. “And how do you know that, Gepard?” March questions, tapping her foot on the ground while waiting for the blond man to reply. 

Gepard goes quiet and looks at March sheepishly. If you were to look closely, you could see a faint blush on Gepard’s cheek. Gepard clears his throat, looking away from the pink-haired girl before continuing to admire the flowers in the flower shop. You chuckle and nudge March while she gives you a devious smile, wiggling her eyebrows at you teasingly. You roll your eyes and walk to the other side of the flower shop, admiring the beautiful flowers while taking occasional pictures of them.

A specific flower captures your attention. You let out an audible gasp in awe, admiring the beautiful flower. You’re contemplating buying yourself a flower to put in your room back on the Astral Express. You look at the Ball Peonies in front of you, admiring their beauty and color. Gosh, it’s so pretty! How can you not buy one for yourself? You lean down, searching for the price of the flower. 

After what felt like ten minutes, you finally found the price tag. You reach for the label, flip it over and let out a choked gasp, dropping the price tag and letting it dangle. You know that flowers can get expensive, but not that expensive! Noticing your shock from afar, Vaska walks up to you and gazes at the Ball Peonies.

Vaska giggles and adjusts the flower. “The Ball Peonies are very expensive, but not as expensive as the Marquis! The Marquis is our most expensive flower,” says Vaska.

You give Vaska a fake smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “The Ball Peonies are beautiful! Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to buy these. Maybe in another lifetime,” you joke.

Vaska chuckles and walks away, shaking her head. You sigh for the umpteenth time and walk to another flower before pulling your phone out to scroll through your gallery. You begin sorting your pictures, putting them in different files. While you’re occupied with putting the group pictures in appropriate files, your phone chimes.

‘3 Attachments from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

You click on the notifications, waiting for the messages to load. Someone taps on your shoulders. You turn your phone off and turn around, only to see Gepard standing before you with Ball Peony in his hands, his cheeks and the tip of his ears crimson red. Your eyes widen, gazing at the blond man speechlessly.

Gepard clears his throat and looks away from you before holding the Ball Peony out toward you. “I saw you looking at the Ball Peony. I also saw how shocked and disappointed you were when you saw the price of it, and I didn’t want you to be disappointed,” says Gepard. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, making your face feel warm. “Gepard, you didn’t have to get me the Ball Peony. They’re expensive,” you whisper, gazing at the ground.

Gepard looks at you. You didn’t see the soft look Gepard had on his face while smiling at you shyly. Gepard clears his throat. “It doesn’t matter to me that they’re expensive. I wanted to see you happy, and…” Gepard trails off, “I wanted to be the first one to buy you flowers.” 

Your face is aflame as you grab the flowers from Gepard’s hands, admiring the Ball Peony. You look up at Gepard, smiling widely before throwing your arms around Gepard’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Caught off guard by your actions, Gepard stumbles back slightly while wrapping his arms around your waist with wide eyes. If Gepard’s face isn't red already, it’s probably almost as red as Himeko’s hair. March squeals softly, pulling her phone out while snapping multiple pictures of you and Gepard hugging from different angles.

Sampo huffs and looks away, flicking his bangs from his eyes. “I wanted to be the first one to buy [Y/N] flowers, but Mister Captain of the Silvermane Guards had to be the first one to do it!” Sampo grouses, his face pinching up with annoyance. 

You pull away from the hug and thank Gepard shyly. Gepard smiles and brushes the stray hair away from your face. Your phone begins chiming over and over, ruining the sweet moment between you and Gepard. You give Gepard an apologetic smile before pulling your phone out from your pockets to see a ton of attachments from March. 

You raise your eyebrows and look in March’s direction. March looks at you with a wide smile while holding her phone behind her back, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet while feigning innocence. 

Dan Heng clears his throat. “So, now that you’re warmed up. Do you want to continue the tour around the Administrative District, or do you want to return to the Astral Express?” asks Dan Heng, approaching you and Gepard.

You hum, tapping on your chin with one hand. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle the cold. People here are used to the weather, but I’m not. I would like to return to the Astral Express, but I feel bad for wanting to leave so soon,” you say, looking over at Gepard and Sampo.

Sampo smiles at you and props his hands on Gepard’s shoulders. Gepard’s smile falters for a split second before giving Sampo a fake smile, brushing the merchant’s arm off his shoulders. Sampo clears his throat and adjusts himself. 

Sampo ruffles your hair with a big smile. “Oh, come on! Don’t be sad now, Gumdrop! I know you’re going to miss the amazing Sampo Koski, but no need to worry! I, and maybe the Captain of the Silvermane Guard, will be accompanying you on the Astral Express heading to, uh, what’s that ship called again?” Sampo looks at Dan Heng, Caelus, Mr. Yang, and March with a questioning look. 

Mr. Yang sighs, closing his eyes. “We’re heading to the Xianzhou Luofu next. General Jing Yuan wanted us to stop by and visit,” Mr. Yang answers, pushing his glasses up his nose bridge.

You nod, holding the Ball Peony close to your chest. The trip from Jarilo-V to the Xianzhou Luofu is going to take a while, and that means you can take a nap! But knowing March, she will try to find a way for you not to take a nap. According to her, you take too many naps. You dread leaving the flower shop because you’re going to get cold again, and you refuse to borrow anyone’s jacket because you feel bad if they let you borrow their jacket.

After what felt like ages, you all arrive at the Astral Express. Instead of borrowing someone’s jacket like last time, Dan Heng lets you share jackets with him. Of course, March took a picture of that and sent it to you and Dan Heng separately instead of sending the photo through the group chat.

You sigh in relief, stretching your arms in the air. The first thing you’re going to do is get a vase for the Ball Peony. After that, you go to your room and take a nap. Well, sneak off to take a nap because March is going to find a way to stop you from napping.

You scurry to find a vase for your Ball Peony, leaving the others in the Parlor Car. You end up finding the prettiest iridescent vase for the Ball Peony. You fill the vase with water and stick the Ball Peony into the vase, wondering if the Ball Peony is going to survive in a train that’s traversing through space. 

You walk to the Passenger Cabin, holding the vase carefully, making sure not to spill any water. You weren’t sure where you were going to put the flowers, but you were debating on putting them close to the window or on your nightstand beside your bed. You opted for the nightstand and set it down in the center before plopping down on your bed and pulling your phone out to look at the messages March sent to you throughout the day in Belobog. 

You save all of the pictures to your phone, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly succumb to sleep. Your phone falls from your hands and lies beside you as you drift to sleep. You weren’t sure how long you fell asleep, but you’re rudely awoken by the sound of your phone buzzing uncontrollably and your bedroom door slamming open.

“Why did you burst into [Y/N]’s room like that? You know they were sleeping,” you hear Dan Heng scold someone.

You rub your eyes, tempted to go back to sleep.

March huffs loudly. “Oh, no, you don’t! Get up! We arrived at the Xianzhou Luofu! General Jing Yuan and the others are waiting for us at the entrance!” says March.

March walks up to your bed and yanks your blanket off your body. You groan, stretching in your bed while reaching around for your phone. You look at your phone to see three messages from three unknown numbers.

The first message reads, “Hello, [Y/N]. This is Jing Yuan! In case you’re wondering how I got your number, March informed me, Luocha, and Blade that you have a new phone. She gave us your number. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon!”

The second message is from, you’re assuming, Luocha. “Hello, [Y/N]! I hope you’ve been doing well since the last time we saw each other. March informed me that you got a phone, and Caelus sent me your phone number! If you ever need anything, please let me know, and I’ll try my best to help you. Also, this is Luocha.” 

And finally, the last text you received on your phone is from Blade. “This is Blade. Are you still talking to the Aeon?” That was the only message Blade sent to you.

You blink at the message on your phone before unlocking it. You quickly type out a reply to all three men before getting off your bed, running your hands through your hair. You shove your phone into your pocket before following March and Dan Heng out of your bedroom. 

You step out of the Astral Express, yawning for the umpteenth time within the span of five minutes. March nudges you, giving you a worried look. You shake your head as if telling her not to worry about it. After all, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary for you to feel tired. You did arrive in their universe from another world. You’re still adjusting to everything. Plus, it’s not like there’s a timezone since you’re constantly going to different planets and fleets. 

“And there they are,” Mr. Yang says, smiling at you, March, and Dan Heng. 

Caelus snickers and looks at Dan Heng and March with an eyebrow raised. “Was it really that hard to wake [Y/N] up from their sleep?” asks Caelus, propping his hands on his waist.

March and Dan Heng glare at Caelus while you walk to the nearest bench on the Xianzhou Luofu and plop on it. Luocha sits beside you. You lay your head on Luocha’s shoulders, closing your eyes. 

Luocha smiles and caresses your hair. “Did you not sleep well while on your way to the Xianzhou Luofu?” asks Luocha.

You shake your head. “I haven’t been sleeping well recently. I’m not sure if it’s because my body is trying to adjust to the constant change of environment or if it’s because….”  you trailed off, opening your eyes.

Luocha peeks down at you, looking at you worriedly. “Because what?” Luocha murmurs.

You sit up and pull your phone out, mindlessly rubbing your thumb against the smooth screen. “I don’t know if I want to say it. I’m hoping it’s not true, but who knows,” you shrug your shoulders.

You have a theory that your lack of sleep could come from your and Nanook’s ways of communication. Nanook speaks to you in your dreams, and you’re very well aware that you’re dreaming. But are you really asleep when Nanook communicates with you through your dreams? Or is your physical body unconscious, but the mind isn’t? 

Luocha leans back and gazes at you with his gorgeous green eyes. To Luocha, you do look visibly exhausted. If he were to look closely, you have bags under your eyes, and the little sparkle in your eyes is dim, almost nonexistent. 

“It’s because of that Aeon, isn’t it?” asks Blade as he approaches you with Jing Yuan beside him.

You blink at Blade owlishly. It’s possible that it’s because of your communication with Nanook, but you didn’t want to make assumptions. Plus, prior to March and Dan Heng waking you up from your slumber, you didn’t see Nanook. In fact, you didn’t have a dream, nor were you in the very same void whenever you and Nanook communicated. 

Blade chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer my question. I have a feeling that your loss of sleep is due to your interaction with Nanook,” says Blade. 

As much as you want to agree with Blade, you feel guilty for placing the blame for your lack of sleep on Nanook. All Nanook wanted to do was to see you and speak to you through your dreams because there was no way for Nanook to be there with you physically. Yet. Is it even possible for Nanook to be there with you physically outside of your dreams? Nanook is massive and covers the sun and sky.

You let out a long yawn and cover your mouth.

Someone chuckles. “Aw, it seems like the little one is tired. Aren’t you adorable?” the voice coos into your ears.

You stop mid-yawn and look around, searching for the source of the voice. Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan look at you worriedly as you whip your head around to look for the voice of the person.

“[Y/N]? Are you alright?” asks Jing Yuan, kneeling before you. “You look startled.”

You stop looking around. You clear your throat, nodding before resting your head on Luocha’s shoulders, sighing. You realize the voice is coming from inside of your head and that it’s most likely Nanook. If the voice inside your head is Nanook, you’re going to be speaking to the Aeon about it when you’re asleep. Nanook can’t pop in and out of your mind so suddenly without scaring you like that.

“So, March has given you guys my number. She didn’t inform me about it, but I did wake up to a series of text messages other than March slamming my bedroom door open,” you chuckle.

Luocha stands up from the bench and squats in front of you, gesturing for you to get on his back. You blink at the blond man before getting on his back, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Luocha stands straight and adjusts you on his back before walking over to where the others are standing, with Blade and Jing Yuan walking beside him. You tighten your grip around Luocha’s neck and rest your head on his shoulders, closing your eyes. 

“I was going to say that I was hoping our texting you didn’t disturb your slumber, but you already told us that you woke up to your phone chiming,” Luocha sighs, tightening his grip on your thighs.

You hum, snuggling against Luocha’s back. “It’s fine, really. I would rather wake up to text messages from you guys than March storming into my bedroom to wake me up. She said I take way too many naps,” you chuckle.

“I can hold your phone for you if you’d like. I worry you might drop your phone while holding onto Luocha,” Jing Yuan comments, reaching for your phone. “We wouldn’t want you to break your new phone, now, would we?” Jing Yuan asks, raising his eyebrows at you while poking your cheek. 

You hand Jing Yuan your phone, continuing to hold onto the blond man. Blade peeks at your phone and takes it from Jing Yuan’s hands, tapping on the screen to see a group picture of you and the Astral Express crew smiling at the camera. It’s a cute picture. But when Blade unlocked your phone (your password was predictable), a picture of you with Sampo and Gepard was the background for your home screen. 

“Who took these pictures?” asks Blade, holding your phone up to your face.

You squint and look at the home screen background. “March took the pictures! She’s my unofficial official photographer.”

Blade hums and begins scrolling through your gallery, narrowing his eyes at each photo that wasn’t a group picture. Most pictures look candid, while others look like it was taken without your knowledge. Especially the images of you sleeping in the indigo-haired man’s arms. Your phone buzzes, and a notification appears at the top of the screen.

‘1 Attachment from March (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ’

Blade clicks on the notification without thinking, and it takes him to the messages between you and March. The attachment was a picture of you getting a piggyback ride from Luocha. The photo was taken a few seconds ago. Blade looks up from your phone and makes eye contact with the pink-haired girl. March’s eyes widen, and she gives Blade a sheepish smile, hiding her phone behind her back while trying to act casual. Blade hands the phone back to Jing Yuan.

Jing Yuan huffs with amusement. “If you don’t mind, would you perhaps take pictures with us as well? I see you’ve been taking pictures with your traveling companions and friends from places you stop by,” says Jing Yuan.

You nod. “Of course we can! We can find a good place to take a picture. We need to let the others know about it first. After all, March is my unofficial official photographer!” you reply. 

When you, Luocha, Blade, and Jing Yuan approach the group, the others give you a questioning look while March has her hands crossed over her chest while staring at you. You give March a sheepish look and wave at her from behind Luocha. Mr. Yang walks up to you and hands you an Immortal’s Delight, causing you to perk up and grab the drink from his hands after saying ‘thank you.’

Luocha squats down, and you get off his back, sipping on the sugary drink. You’re really hoping the drink will keep you up for a little bit before returning to the Astral Express and calling it a day. You tapped March’s shoulders and informed her about wanting to take pictures with Jing Yuan, Blade, and Luocha. You and March were trying to think of places to take photos with the help of Dan Heng and Caelus giving suggestions. Sampo and Gepard walk up to Blade, Luocha, and Jing Yuan, eyeing the three men from head to toe. Blade raises his eyebrows, sizing the two men up. 

Blade points at Sampo. “What’s your association with [Y/N]?” Blade asks. “You seem quite close with [Y/N]. Do they mean anything to you by any chance?” 

Jing Yuan laughs and pats Blade’s shoulders before giving Sampo and Gepard an apologetic smile. “I apologize for Blade suddenly interrogating you about your association with [Y/N]. While we have met a few times, we’re curious about your relationship with [Y/N],” says Jing Yuan. “Well, Blade is more direct about it. As you can see.”

Gepard and Sampo look at one another, staring at the three men in silence. Were they supposed to tell the three strange men their association with you? If those three men (specifically Blade) are curious about it, they will talk to you about it. 

Luocha interjects, getting between the four tense men. “Gentlemen! Let’s save this conversation for later, shall we? I believe [Y/N] has picked out a place for the pictures,” says Luocha, laughing nervously while gesturing over in your direction. Luocha turns to look at Gepard and Sampo, bowing to the two men. “I apologize if they’re causing any hostile environment. I hope we can all get along.”

Jing Yuan blinks at Luocha, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not the one that’s creating a hostile environment. I believe it’s this one over here,” Jing Yuan says, gesturing toward Blade.

You and your traveling companions walk to where the five men are standing. In your hands, you’re holding two more Immortal’s Delight. The men raise their eyebrows at you while Sampo points at the sugary drinks in your hands. 

“Picture time! We have decided to take a picture in this one area of Central Starskiff Haven! Close to where they sell Immortals Delight!” You say, waving the drinks around before taking a sip from one of the cups.

Blade stares at you and then at the cup in your hands. “You’re not going to buy any more of those drinks, are you?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you. 

You pursed your lips and slowly walked away. “I can’t promise you anything! If you want to start blaming someone, blame someone that introduced me to Immortals Delight,” you said. 

Upon arriving at the Central Starskriff Haven, you, Blade, Jing Yuan, and Luocha stand beside each other in front of the railing. Well, Luocha, Jing Yuan, and Blade are standing beside each other while you stand in front of the three men. March begins taking many pictures of you and the three men on your phone.

In the middle of the photo shoot (is it even a photoshoot?), Blade takes your Immortal’s Delight and begins drinking it. You turn to look at Blade with your mouth agape. The dark-haired man looks away from you and continues slurping the sugary drink without care. Your face pinches up with irritation before chasing Blade around Luocha and Jing Yuan. Jing Yuan and Luocha chuckle and try to get the two of you to stop before causing any more issues. 

“This is perfect! It captures their dynamic perfectly!” March says, continuing to snap many pictures of what’s happening.

Jing Yuan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Blade, give [Y/N] back their drink. It’s rude to drink something that doesn’t belong to you,” Jing Yuan chides.

“Yeah, Blade! Don’t be a jerk and give me back my drink!” You say, glaring at the dark-haired man and stopping in your tracks, placing your hands on your knees and panting. “If you make me chase for that drink, I will make you pay for it.”

“Oh? And how are you going to make me pay for it exactly?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You hold your hand out in front of you. Blade stares at you before holding your hand. You stare at your hands in Blade’s grasp. You drop his hands and huff. Luocha chuckles, giving Blade a teasing smile.

“It seems like you don’t understand what [Y/N] is implying. They want you to give them credit for the Immortal’s Delight, not you holding their hand,” Luocha interjects. “One drink costs about 3600 credits per drink. It is a bit pricey for one drink.”

Blade stares at Luocha with disbelief before handing you back your Immortal’s Delight. Your eyes light up, and you stick your tongue out at Blade before turning to look at your traveling companions standing across from you. You nearly drop your drink when you realize how many people had their phones out.

“Don’t mind us! We’re making sure we get good angles!” says March, holding both your and her phone up while continuing to take pictures of you and the three men.

Unbeknownst to you, the men before you took many pictures of you chasing the Stellaron Hunter. They made sure not to include the three men in the pictures because they were focused on capturing the moments when your eyes light up when Blade returns your drink. Who knew that the brightest star in the universe has tiny specks of stars in their eyes when they’re happy. 

Note: This fic is almost 10k words, and I'm surprised because I didn't think I could type this much with little to no sleep 💀 Since my finals are in three days, I will be posting mini-fics for the Genshin series and for the HSR series! I also realized that I had forgotten about Luka. Hopefully, I can post him in the next upcoming fic. Since I don't know much about him, I'll have to wing it. Also, if there are any errors, that is because I did type the fic half-asleep and while sleep-deprived 🥲 Taglist should be coming soon after finals week! Also, please look at an important note regarding posting works that are "inspired" by the fics I have posted [Important Notice]! To my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is happy serving up good food and feeding people comfort food from his truck -- he's not looking to be famous; Dream is a Michelin star judge who stumbles upon his truck and loves his food.

Dream is used to liking small portion tasting menus with ingredients sourced from yurts or dug up during an irregular moon cycle. Comfort food that "sticks to your bones" is not what Dream eats, even when he needs comfort!

Dream stumbles on this food truck when he gets lost looking for his car after having a forgettable meal at the hot new speakeasy concept that recently opened.

Eating/tasting is a job and Dream is so tired of his function. So when he hears music and people having fun, Dream figures he can at least ask someone where he is and/or get his bearings. What he see when he rounds the corner are people queued up at a funky painted food truck -- laughing, joking?! with someone who is making his food safety hair net look good, and happily eating. The smell hits Dream in the face -- it's so good.

When Dream makes it to the counter, he forgets that he needs directions, hot chef hairnet, is so pretty - engaging smile, the stereotypical tattoos on his forearms, soft doe eyes -- Dream is momentarily speechless. When the chef ask him what he wants, Dream says surprise me (the same Dream who always has a plan when he's eating for his job); he gets a roguish smile and a wink,,,,, and falls a little in love.

Then he tries the food he's handed falls all the way in love.

Oh, this hit me right in the soft spot!! Absolutely love it.

I can so imagine Dream being used to those nouveau cuisine dishes where you get like, a sliver of horseradish, one grain of rice and a sauce made from gold leaf. He thinks that he likes it, that he's reasonably content. But he's never looked at one of those kind of plates and smiled. Not the way he's smiling at the loaded paper plate Hot Hair Net chef just gave him.

He sits a little way from the truck and eats, slowly, carefully. There's pilau rice, delicious curry, veggies that are clearly fresh. Its warm and filling, and Dream can't quite finish it all. But he's still smiling.

And he still doesn't know where his car is. So he goes to the counter again. The gorgeous chef seems to be packing up for the day and he positively beams at Dream. "Back already? I was hoping I'd get a chance to feed you up, but I didn't think it'd be so soon."

Dream blushes and asks for directions, and Hob says that if Dream can wait a minute, he'll walk there with him. His car is over that way too. While Hob packs up, Dream dares to ask about his ingredients, and Hob absolutely lights up while he talks about where he sources his fresh stuff, how much he values his suppliers, and how excited he is to keep building his business. He's got dreams of a restaurant someday, although he dearly loves his truck - maybe he'll do both!

By the time Hob helps him find his car, Dream is absolutely ready to give his heart and soul over on a paper plate. There are spices zinging on his tongue, and Hob has taken off his hair net to reveal an adorable, sexy little man-bun. He's got measuring spoon tattoos on his hands. Dream wants him.

He's back the next day. And the next. He's driving out of his way to get to Hob. Nothing else tastes good. And when he finally, shyly asks if Hob would like to come over for dinner sometime, Hob lights up. "It's about time you cooked for me! I'd love it. And... I'll bring dessert."

When Hob winks at Dream this time, he follows it up with a kiss on the cheek. And Dream’s not hungry anymore. He's just thirsty 😉

[angeliicheartt]

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

“i’ll always be here for you.” 🙏 i need a sickfic with my bby shinsou 😞

“ɪ’ʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”

includes: hitoshi shinso

fem!reader

note: 0.9k wc, comfort, mentions of pills (medication), everyone say thank you sennie's dream for giving me creative inspo to write

you bury your head further into your irritatingly hot pillow, trying to find some sort of comfort in the sweat-drenched sheets you're lying in. it's too bright, too hot, too cold, too stuffy all at once.

waking up to your alarm this morning had practically been like a zombie rising from the dead. your head was pounding, a nasty cough burrowing into the back of your throat, and your sheets soaked with sweat. after sending a quick note to aizawa, you immediately fell back asleep and have been on and off falling in and out of sleep all day.

you feel your phone buzz, as it had been doing practically all day. a whine leaves your raspy throat as you grab the device, the bright screen causing you to squint as you hastily lower the brightness. your free hand massages your temple as you check the notifications you had received during your slumber. a couple from each of your friends, and about ten messages from your boyfriend, hitoshi.

the first few messages asking where you were during classes, and eventually lead to him figuring out you're sick and texting you every hour to see if you were up. you prop your elbows up against your mattress as you text the boy back.

checking the time, you notice that classes got out 15 minutes ago. you sigh as you lay your head against your pillow again, shutting your eyes to spare you the migraine forming at the forefront of your head. 

only seconds after you shut your eyes you hear a small knock at your dorm door. your eyebrows furrow as you crack open one eye, “what?” you call, loud enough to be heard.

“it’s your boyfriend,” a low voice calls back, the familiar tones causing your lips to quirk up if only slightly, “come in.”

the violet-haired boy enters smoothly, a takeout bag in one hand, using the other to shut your door behind him as silently as he can before padding over to you. crouching by your head his hand smooths your hair down and out of your sweaty face as he places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“how’re you feeling?” he murmurs, placing the bag he brought in on top of your side table. 

“like shit,” you murmur against the pillow, your cheek squished against it, muddying your words. He chuckles softly, tucking your hair behind your ear as he murmurs, “im sorry, angel,”

“i brought you some soup, as well as medicine and some water bottles,” he says as he stands up once again. the dull screeching of wood against wood prods at your ears as he drags your desk chair over to be next to your bed. sitting down he unpacks the takeout bag he brought. placing the takeout bowl on the nightstand, followed by three water bottles and a small bottle of medicine. 

“you didn’t need to do all that, toshi,” you murmur, only slightly louder than a whisper due to the dull ache clouding your head. 

“i wanted to, angel,” he says softly, his deft fingers opening the container of soup as he grabs the plasticware from the bag. he stirs the soup briefly before getting a spoonful. cupping his free hand under the spoon he carefully guides it towards you. 

“you are not spoon-feeding me right now.”

“i am,” he chuckles, one eyebrow raising at your unmoving frame before you give in, propping yourself up on your elbows once again before leaning forward and taking the spoon into your mouth. 

“this is so cheesy.” you say after swallowing, watching as hitoshi readies another spoonful. 

“you haven’t eaten today, besides i’ve gotta make sure you’re back in class as soon as possible,” he says as you take another spoonful, “it's miserable without you.”

you roll your eyes as a soft smile simultaneously forms on your face. “it can’t be that bad, toshi,”

“it is.”

hitoshi tells you about his “miserable” day as he continues to feed you, and soon you finish the bowl. hitoshi places the spoon into the now empty container before tossing both into the takeout bag. he opens the bottle of medicine, popping two pills out before screwing it shut again. carefully he drops the pills into your hand before reaching to open one of the plastic water bottles he brought for you. you take the now opened water bottle before popping the pills into your mouth, chasing them down with water.

“alright then,” he huffs as he stands up, stretching his back before dragging the chair back towards your desk.

“are you leaving?” you murmur, embarrassed at how dejected you sound.

“‘course not.” he scoffs before sliding in next to you, causing you to make room for him on the small bed.

“can’t leave my girl when she’s suffering, plus i haven’t seen you all day,” he says as he buries his nose in your sweaty neck. “i need my girlfriend time.”

“‘m all sweaty and gross, toshi,” you grumble, pursuing a weak attempt at pushing hitoshi away from you. 

“mm, i know, i don’t care.” he murmurs again, his arms wrapping around your waist, his above averagely cold skin becoming sweet relief to your overheating body.

“oh shit, that feels so nice,” you sigh as you take one of his hands, placing it against your forehead before sighing once again in bliss. “never leave,”

“wasn’t planning on it, i'll always be here for you,” he mutters against your neck, planting a soft kiss before the two of you are lulled to sleep by the other’s presence.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis @whenanafallsinlove @kozumesphone @tikitsune @goobzi @sviidoll @foxnikki

[chiipay]

I loved the scary dog privilege post!!!!! Can you do one with Karasu, Barou, kunigami, Kaiser and Isagi please 🥹🙏

Karasu? Wow new but alr ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ i no no had no idea how kansai accent work so...just use normal dialogue then ◉⁠‿⁠◉

KBOOM 💥- KARASU

" karasu...? W- why are you here-?.. it's early.."

You rubbed your sleepy eyes as you face karasu's taller figure. It's 3am- why is he here? You look at him noticing he's still wide awake.

" yer moron. Could say the same thing about yer too y'know? It's a freaking 3 in the morning. The hell yer' here?"

His grin widening after seeing you lost for words. He was just walking around in the neighborhood for sum fresh air he just came by coincidence to see you walking in the convenience store grabbing some snacks.

"....hungry. what about you?"

" just passing by to kill some time."

" cool."

You walked into the front cashier with karasu following you from behind and placed your snacks there. You began to snuck into your pocket, searching for your wallet before you realised you forgot to bring it.

' OH SHIT '

”... dang-"

You look to the cashier while trying to get your words out of you but it came out none. A loud silence in the awkward moment before karasu let out a big sigh behind you.

" figure that out, yer stupid. Here."

He put some cash into the table before eyeing the cashier before he dragged you out along with the snacks.

(this makes no sense at all- uhh if you guys don't like it tell me alr? I'll try thinking something up.)

Rawr rawr - BAROU

You and barou are at a fancy restaurant he pulled you into. He decided to celebrate his salary about football with you but wouldn't tell you that. He didn't want to make it obvious. So he just decided to drag you out of your own home so you would go out with him.

" is it good?"

He asked you while sipping on his own cup as he looked at you devouring your whole dessert like a starving man.

"humm?y- yea. Really good! Why didn't you bring me earlier?? This dessert is nuts! "

You gave him a small thumbs up while still having your spoon shoved in your mouth. He closed his eyes ignoring how messy you ate it.

" it just opened a few days ago. I brought you here as soon as possible since you really have such a sweet tooth."

"mhmm! You know me too well, barou!"

You had a small conversation with barou for a bit more before a waiter came up to you two and put your new food.

"oh!-"

You look at your supposed to be ' omelette rice ' but somehow came out to be just....fried rice. Dang- did you ordered it wrong? You sure you said it right. You didn't say anything for a bit but barou seems to have noticed it and decided to take action on it.

Barou slammed his fist into the table hard enough to make the waiter startled by it.

" sorry but- she asked for an omelette rice. Not a fucking fried rice."

His voice startled the waiter as it bowed their head down in apologies before they started to pick your plate again and boom gone.

"...you could be a bit nicer bro."

" don't bro me."

" okay."

(I'M SORRY I'LL DO THE OTHER THREE TOMORROW!! COULD YOU WAIT?? I'M SO SORRY 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏)

[niallerspayno]

I'll Look After You (Liam Payne x reader)

Author's note: A little fluff fic of Liam looking after you when you're feeling sick. I miss you so much, Liam❤️‍🩹

Tags: Lots of fluff

Masterlist

You hear the faint sound of keys jingling at the door just as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself. The dull ache in your head hasn’t eased all day, and the pile of tissues on the coffee table feels like a monument to your misery. You didn’t think Liam would stop by—he’s been busy lately too—but when the door creaks open, you glance up from your cocoon of blankets.

Liam steps inside, his brows knitting together as soon as he sees you. “Oh, love…” he says softly, closing the door behind him. He’s already kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag, his attention fixed on you.

You try to muster a smile, but it comes out weak. “Hey,” you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Your throat feels raw, and you hope he can’t hear the congestion in your tone as much as you can.

He crosses the room in a few strides, crouching beside the couch. His warm brown eyes scan your face, concern etched into his features. “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, his voice gentle but tinged with worry. He brushes a hand across your forehead, his touch cool against your overheated skin.

You shrug, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “Didn’t want to bother you,” you mumble, pulling the blanket higher as if it could shield you from his concerned gaze.

Liam shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re never a bother to me,” he says firmly. He shifts to sit on the edge of the couch, resting a hand on your blanket-covered knee. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the mug of tea you barely touched. “A couple of days,” you admit quietly. “I thought I could push through it. I just… I have so much to do.”

His expression softens, but there’s a trace of sadness in his eyes now. “You’ve been overworking yourself again, haven’t you?” he asks, though he doesn’t need an answer. His hand moves to your cheek, thumb brushing gently along your skin. “You’re burning out, babe. You can’t keep running on empty like this.”

You don’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. Instead, you bury yourself deeper into the blanket, your body sagging against the cushions. Liam doesn’t rush you, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek, his patience as steady as ever.

“I just… I didn’t want to let anyone down,” you finally admit, your voice small. “There’s so much to get done, and if I stop, everything will fall apart.”

Liam sighs softly, his hand slipping down to take yours beneath the blanket. His fingers thread through yours, warm and grounding. “You’re not going to let anyone down by taking care of yourself,” he says, his tone resolute. “You’re only human, love. You need rest. You can’t keep giving your all to everyone else and leave nothing for yourself.”

You blink back the sting of tears, his words cutting through the fog of exhaustion you’ve been trapped in. “But there’s so much—”

“Shh,” he interrupts gently, squeezing your hand. “Right now, there’s nothing more important than you getting better. Everything else can wait. And if it can’t, I’ll help. We’ll figure it out together.”

The reassurance in his voice makes your chest ache, but this time it’s not from the sickness. You nod slowly, the tight knot of guilt and pressure in your stomach loosening just a bit.

Liam smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Now, let me take care of you, yeah?”

He stands, and you immediately miss the warmth of his presence beside you. But before you can protest, he’s draping another blanket over your already cocooned form. “You stay right there,” he orders playfully, pointing at you with mock sternness. “I’m going to make you some soup. And you’re going to eat it, even if I have to spoon-feed you myself.”

A soft laugh escapes you, despite your raw throat. “You’d do that?”

Liam grins as he heads toward the kitchen. “Absolutely. But don’t test me—I’ll make airplane noises if I have to.”

You smile, the first genuine one you’ve managed in days. As you settle back into the cushions, listening to the familiar clatter of him moving around in the kitchen, you feel the weight of the past few weeks start to lift. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to relax, knowing Liam is there to hold everything together for a little while.

...

You’re half-dozing when Liam returns, balancing a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a small plate of crackers. The rich, comforting aroma drifts toward you, and despite your fatigue, your stomach grumbles softly.

“Perfect timing,” he says with a playful smile, setting the tray on the coffee table. “I figured you might not have eaten much today, so I brought the essentials—soup and crackers. Gourmet stuff.”

You give him a weak smile, managing a quiet, “Thank you.”

Liam perches on the edge of the couch, his hands gentle as he helps you sit up and rearranges the pillows behind you. “Alright, let’s take it slow,” he murmurs, picking up the bowl. “First bite coming right up.”

You feel a little silly letting him feed you, but the exhaustion weighing down your limbs makes it hard to argue. He scoops up a small spoonful, blowing on it until the steam dissipates. “Open up,” he says with a soft grin.

You comply, and the warm broth soothes your sore throat immediately. “That’s good,” you manage between small sips, and his face lights up with satisfaction.

“Of course it is,” he teases. “I only make the best store-bought soup.”

The two of you settle into a quiet rhythm—Liam feeding you bite by bite, pausing occasionally to hand you a sip of water or crack a light-hearted joke to lift your spirits. By the time the bowl is empty, you’re feeling a little more human, though the weight of exhaustion still lingers.

Liam sets the tray aside, his eyes scanning your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. “You’re still so tense,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shrug slightly. “It’s just been… a lot,” you admit, your voice quiet.

He nods, as if he understands every unspoken word. Then, his face brightens with an idea. “How about I run you a bath? Something warm and relaxing. I’ll even light a candle if you’re lucky.”

You blink at him, surprised. “Liam, you don’t have to do that. You’ve already done so much.”

He shakes his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. “I want to. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, love. Let me take care of you. Please.”

The sincerity in his voice makes it impossible to refuse. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A bath sounds nice.”

“Good.” He leans down to kiss your forehead, lingering for a moment. “Stay put. I’ll take care of everything.”

As he heads toward the bathroom, the sound of running water and the faint clink of bottles fills the quiet room. You sink back into the pillows, the tension in your body starting to ease at the thought of soaking in a warm bath, knowing Liam is nearby.

You hear the water shut off, followed by the soft sound of Liam moving around in the bathroom. A moment later, he reappears in the doorway with a fresh towel draped over his arm, his expression gentle.

“All ready for you,” he says softly. “It’s warm, the lavender bubbles are doing their thing, and the candle is definitely adding a spa-like vibe. Come on, let’s get you comfortable.”

He steps closer, offering his hand to help you up. You take it, leaning on him as he guides you toward the bathroom. Once inside, the soft glow of the candlelight and the soothing scent of lavender make you exhale, some of the tension slipping from your shoulders.

“Looks amazing,” you murmur, your voice still raspy.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replies with a smile, his hands steadying you as you step closer to the tub. “Take your time.”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how much help you actually need. Liam seems to sense it, his voice soft and reassuring. “Let me,” he says, moving with gentle purpose. He helps you out of the oversized sweatshirt you’ve been wearing and holds the towel up like a shield, giving you privacy as you step out of your remaining clothes and into the tub.

The water envelops you immediately, its warmth soothing your sore muscles. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you sink lower, letting the bubbles cover you.

Liam kneels beside the tub, resting his forearms on the edge. “That better?” he asks, his voice low and comforting.

“Much,” you reply, your eyes fluttering closed.

For a moment, the two of you stay like that, the sound of the water lapping against the sides of the tub the only noise in the room. Then, you feel his hands on your shoulders, warm and steady.

“Mind if I?” he asks softly, already kneading gently at the tense muscles in your neck.

You hum in approval, leaning forward slightly to give him better access. “Don’t stop,” you murmur, the words almost a plea.

He chuckles, his thumbs working into a particularly tight spot near the base of your neck. “You’re so knotted up, love,” he says, his tone a mix of sympathy and determination. “You’ve been carrying too much on your shoulders.”

You don’t answer, too lost in the way his hands seem to melt the tension away. He takes his time, his touch firm but careful, pausing every so often to ask, “Is this okay?” or “Does this hurt?”

“It’s perfect,” you manage to whisper, your body finally beginning to feel lighter.

“Good,” he replies, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

As his hands continue their soothing work, you let yourself surrender completely to the moment. The warmth of the bath, the scent of lavender, and the love in Liam’s touch wrap around you like a cocoon, making you feel cared for in a way you hadn’t realised you needed so badly.

You’ve lost track of time when Liam’s voice gently breaks the quiet. “How are you feeling now, love?”

You open your eyes, your body feeling lighter, the tension finally beginning to ebb away. “Better,” you reply softly. “Much better. Thank you.”

Liam grins, his hands giving your shoulders one last gentle squeeze. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

He stands and grabs the towel he had set aside, holding it open for you. “Come on,” he says, his voice warm with encouragement. “Let’s get you out of here before you fall asleep in there.”

You chuckle faintly and let him help you up, the cool air a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. He wraps the towel snugly around you, taking his time as he dries your arms and shoulders with careful movements.

Once you’re dry, he leads you to the bedroom, where he’s already laid out your softest pajamas. “These should be cozy enough,” he says with a small smile.

You change quickly, the familiar fabric a welcome comfort against your skin. When you emerge from the bathroom, Liam is pulling back the duvet, fluffing the pillows with the same quiet care he’s shown all night.

“Come on, love,” he says, beckoning you over. “Let’s get you tucked in.”

You slide into bed, the soft sheets and warm blankets cocooning you instantly. Liam climbs in beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close until your head rests on his chest. His steady heartbeat is soothing, and you let out a contented sigh.

“This is perfect,” you murmur, your voice muffled against his shirt.

Liam chuckles softly, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “You’re perfect,” he counters, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And you deserve to be taken care of. Always.”

As the warmth of his embrace lulls you into a calm haze, you feel his hand pause on your back. “Do you want me to sing something?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile faintly, too tired to respond with more than a nod.

He shifts slightly, his chest rising and falling under your cheek as he takes a deep breath. Then, softly, he begins to sing.

His voice is low and soothing, every word cradling you in its warmth. It’s a familiar melody, one of his songs—one you’ve always loved. The lyrics flow like a gentle lullaby, and you find yourself melting further into his hold.

The sound of his voice, the steady rhythm of his heart, and the safety of his arms weave together into a perfect cocoon.

“I’m in love with you,” he sings softly, his lips brushing your hair as he continues. “And all these little things.”

His voice fades as your breathing evens out, but you can still feel his presence, a constant reassurance. Even as sleep pulls you under, you know Liam will be there when you wake, holding you just as tightly as he is now.

...

The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a gentle glow. You stir slowly, the warmth of the blankets and the steady rise and fall of Liam’s chest beneath your cheek anchoring you in place.

For a moment, you forget the aches and exhaustion of the past few days. All you feel is the comfort of his arms still wrapped securely around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

“Morning, love,” his voice murmurs, low and rough with sleep. You tilt your head to look up at him, finding his soft brown eyes already watching you.

“Morning,” you whisper, your voice still a little raspy but stronger than it was last night.

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “How are you feeling?”

You pause, taking stock of yourself. Your head feels clearer, the aches in your body less sharp. “Better,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Still tired, but better.”

“That’s good to hear,” he says, his thumb brushing gently along your cheek. “We’re taking it easy today. No work, no stress—just rest and maybe some tea if you’re up for it.”

You start to protest, but the look on his face stops you. It’s not stern—it’s soft, filled with concern and affection—but there’s no mistaking his resolve.

“Liam—”

“No arguments,” he interrupts gently, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I mean it. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, love. Today’s about you getting better.”

You sigh, but there’s no real fight behind it. “Okay. Tea sounds good.”

He grins, satisfied, and gently untangles himself from you. “Stay here,” he says as he slides out of bed. “I’ll bring you some.”

As he disappears into the kitchen, you let your head sink back into the pillow, the lingering warmth of his embrace still wrapped around you. The sound of him moving around in the kitchen—opening cupboards, the faint whistle of the kettle—brings a sense of comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

When he returns, it’s with a tray balanced in his hands, complete with two mugs of tea, some toast, and a small dish of honey. “Breakfast in bed,” he announces proudly, setting the tray down and climbing back under the covers with you.

You sit up slowly, and he hands you a mug, the warmth spreading through your hands. “You’re too good to me,” you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

“I’ll never stop being good to you,” he replies with a smile, his voice full of quiet sincerity.

The two of you sip tea and share the toast, the morning stretching out in peaceful silence. Wrapped in his care, you feel the weight of the past days lifting little by little, leaving only warmth and gratitude in its place.

As you finish your tea, Liam sets his mug down, turning to you with a soft smile. “Feeling good now, yeah?”

You nod, the last remnants of exhaustion fading away. “I do. Thank you for everything,” you say, your voice full of gratitude.

But before you can continue, Liam gently interrupts, shaking his head. “Stop,” he says, his tone warm but firm. “You don’t have to thank me, okay? Taking care of you is what I want to do. Always.”

You blink, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “I know, but still... I’ve been a mess lately, and you’ve been so patient with me. I just—”

“Don’t need to say anything else,” he interrupts again, his eyes softening. “I love you. That’s all I need to hear from you.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you smile, feeling the full weight of his love. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning in closer to him.

He responds by pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, slow and tender, as if to seal the promise of always being there for you. When he pulls back, he brushes a stray hair from your face, his expression full of quiet affection.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmurs. “For you. No matter what.”

And with that, you settle back against him, feeling more at peace than you have in days, knowing that you have everything you need in his arms.

[karlachismylife]

Wanting To Hold You

I actually wanted to keep the whole 10 prompts as reader asking for a kiss and characters responding, but man, I just couldn't pass an opportunity to make Ghost beg. Desperation looks good on a man :)

CW: gn!reader, reader is a tease and a menace (lovingly), Ghost is touch-starved and absolutely whipped, a tiny bit suggestive. Johnny makes an unforgettable appearance.

(Title from "Open Arms" by Jorney, which is kinda Ghost coded imo. as any song about a man horrendously in love is)

Simon Riley is a menace. That's no news flash, you've known that since that very first time you saw his looming figure in a mask that only a certain kind of person can pull off without seeming like a total weirdo or clown, and Ghost is (usually) neither of those. Spending five minutes in a conversation with him only confirms for anyone that Simon is, indeed, a menace, and that you just have to accept that fact and bear with his rich persona if you want to have any business with him at all.

If you want to get close to him, you're bound to love that he's a menace.

And you do.

But no one ever said you can't be a menace in return. Especially when Simon gets too full of himself, basking in the feeling of always getting his way, now that he's a mountain of a man with a death stare and according reputation, not a trapped and tormented shell of a young boy watching helplessly his world turn to hell.

No harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine. Not after he had been particularly demanding last few days, refusing to let you out of bed in the mornings and clinging to you throughout breakfast and your preparations for work. It's the rain, you know it makes him needy, foggy head focused only on getting his arms full of someone warm and soft, smelling nice too.

No need to make you late for work, though. Having a cuddle monster in your apartment doesn't impress your boss as a valid reason, you know.

That's how you find yourself playing with the black blazing flame that Ghost is, dancing around him all night - you have his whole team over for an obligatory football game and a satisfying, fat dinner everyone contributes to. Wearing his surname on your back, draped in big, possessive letters of his old T-shirt, you flutter around, slapping his fingers away mercilessly as he tries to get into the dessert ahead of everything else. With a stern look, you make a point out of licking the spoon - rightfully his spoon, the one he always gets to clean with his tongue - clean so he gets nothing, except Johnny's mocking laugh as he watches his Lieutenant stand in front of the kitchen counter with a dumbfounded, almost pouting look.

"Behave, or I'll give your second portion to Johnny," you add to the insult with a devilish smile, passing Simon as if his big, brown, betrayed eyes aren't pulling on every string your soul has.

"Fat bastard will fookin' burst if ya let him 'ave three!" Your little plan would've gone to shit if Simon managed to grab you around your waist and pull in for a kiss as reparations for the dessert spoon denial, but that's why you shamelessly drag Soap into this mess too: as soon as Simon barks out his accusation, Johnny scoffs loudly and retorts.

While they're bickering over your casserole slowly baking ready, you successfully escape the kitchen to visit Kyle and John, who are busy with setting dinner table and listening to the pregame commentary on TV.

"At each other's throats again, are they?" Kyle's chuckle betrays no surprise as you nod happily, putting a cool beer bottle in his hand and earning a playful kiss on your knuckles.

"Muppets gonna burn our food if they keep tha' up," grumbles Price, munching on a stolen cucumber slice - since he is not the one who's getting your revenge tonight, you simply move the little plate closer to him and sit down, relaxing. Having four additional pairs of capable hands makes dinner nights much easier, so you enjoy your time lounging with your man's Captain and Sergeant until it's time to start.

It feels almost cruel to touch-starve Simon, with pretend innocence sliding your palm from under his when he wraps his fingers around yours out of habit between eating - you're not doing this out of malice, of course, you just want to pass Kyle some pepper or move a glass pitcher out of Johnny's way before he tips it over. Your thighs don't touch under the table, and when all five of you move to the living room to watch the game with whatever everyone grabs - snacks, beer, tea and dessert (you let Simon has his seconds, even though his eyes bore into you with silent indication it's not pudding he's craving already) - you sit next to him.

Not in his lap, like his wide stance implies.

First half of the game Simon seems to watch you more than football, drilling a burning hole in your skull, slght frown forming between his blond eyebrows. Are you angry with him? Did he fuck up? Somehow managed to forget an important date, even though they're all branded into his brain? Promised to run some errand and forgot? Left the goddamn toilet seat up, even though he's always the one who watches it when his teammates are over, since Johnny manages to forget every single time?

But you don't look angry, that's the problem. Neither do you seem upset or uncomfortable. After all, you would tell him if you were.

You're simply denying him what he wants, and Simon fucking Riley cannot wrap his stubborn head around this turn of events.

You don't think you can withhold your affection much longer by the end of the game: Simon looks positively unhappy, grumpy and gloomy, as he ditches the aftergame smoke and argument with the boys and follows you into the kitchen, a silent shadow on a mission to get what he wants one way or the other.

His burly arms wrap around your waist as you throw some napkins away, and you smile triumphantly.

"Everything okay, big boy?" Your cheerfulness is a bit too much, and Simon makes a miserable noise in response, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mangled lips pressing urgent kisses to your skin, trailing along your jawline - you have to wiggle away quickly, turning around in his big embrace and leaning back against the counter with a fake question in your eyes.

"C'mon, lovie, I jus' wanna kiss ya, c'mere, eh?" He leans in and you finally drop the act, stopping him directly, with your fingers over his mouth.

The look he gives you is priceless. Sheer disbelief mixed with need, a little kid watching Santa snatch the last cookie off the plate and devour it with no crumbs left to share.

"Then ask me nicely for a kiss, Si," you purr, and that sweet smile you give him - bloody hell, you look so proud of your mischief, a naughty child yourself, unable to conceal your excitement over having him beg.

He won't. Simon Riley doesn't beg, he takes what he wants or accepts defeat with head held high. If that's the game you're playing, he'll just have to accept the rules and starve you in return, until it's you who's crawling to him for a single snuggle and smooch.

That's what he wants to think, but you stick out your lips just a little, a condescending look on your face - you've caused him to be this pent up over a bloody kiss and you dare to look at him as if you're pitying him! - and he's gone.

"How nice do I 'ave to be, lovie?" His poor throat constricted to the point of rasping.

Fucking putty in your hands, he is.

You pretend to think, a picture with your finger rubbing your chin, before you finally run your hand over Simon's nape, tugging on his outgrown hair to pull him even closer and whisper:

"Ask very nicely, hm?"

There's still a flicker of that fire you're playing with in his eyes - oh, he'll get back at you for sure. When his knees stop buckling and his spine becomes firm and rigid, not soft and pliant under your touch.

Simon Riley kneels before you in your kitchen, smelling of casserole, pudding and beer, and folds his arms behind his back, catching his own elbows in his big palms. Nothing to tie him down aside your words, he isn't worried his teammates might see him like this in the slightest.

"Please, lovie. Can I have a kiss? I've missed you the whole evening."

You're a goner just like him once he looks up at you with his big, hooded eyes - primal need and actual hint of blues just from several hours without your healing touch.

"That was very nice. Maybe you should do that more often," you exhale, attempts to keep yourself in check futile, and lean forward, cupping his face for a kiss, longing lips pressing and sucking through rapid, needy huffs of breaths, Simon's arms still bound by his will behind his back so you can push and pull him any way you want - the only plea he mouths silently into the needy tangling of your mouths is to not let go a little longer.

Johnny's never been as silent as when he walked in on Simon moaning into your lips at a simple tug on his hair.

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME BALDUR'S GATE 3 / PART SIX

leave us in peace and we shall leave you in kind.

cut the crap.

we just want to go home.

enough of this charade.

i'll not play pretend anymore.

you'll soon learn what it means to ally yourself with the likes of this garbage.

i'm free now, and i'm never going back.

fuck them.

felt good letting off a little steam.

if i burn any hotter, i might explode.

don't get too close until i've found a way to calm down.

it's a bit early to be getting into tragic backstories.

let's save the scar-show for later after we've worked up an appetite for tragedy.

in the grand scheme of things, i'm inconsequential [to her].

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

it had the makings of a good stage show, but i did not want to be one of the players.

torture, bloodsport? or perhaps just a good old-fashioned walloping?

you owe me nothing.

i could extort you, if that's what you want.

you're teasing me now.

ignorance is alive and well it seems.

don't make me get the wooden spoon.

you'd best have one hells of an apology for me.

if you think your precious little god holds any power here, you're in for a surprise.

do you treat all your guests so poorly?

i don't like busybodies.

you are as thick as they come.

are you telling me you made love to a goddess?

i shared a bed with a goddess and yet i wasn't satisfied.

shall i share the story behind it or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale?

how are you still alive?

we've come this far together and we'll continue on together.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i'll rip your spine out of your asshole.

i'll use your blood to spice my stew.

i'll keep you alive until i've sucked the marrow from your bones.

killing me is a waste of time.

you bastard, you ruined everything.

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

a slap is all you deserve.

a hag was never going to help you.

they don't help anyone but themselves.

that double-crossing, filthy, lying hag.

focus on the positive.

forgive the aroma.

perhaps that is why i have survived so long where more fearsome peers have not.

your loyalty is admirable but misplaced.

his kind have charm beyond our mortal means to resist.

who'd keep a secret like that from his friends?

you can't trust anyone these days.

even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me.

why do you insist on exhuming the past?

people think the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake.

they're scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts.

i am what i must be, says what i must be.

how does it feel to be a devil?

i can't tell if you're being silly or serious.

you have to admire the man's ambition.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

you kept me by your side despite the menace i am.

i learned quick how to stay alive.

to feel invincible again.

this isn't where i thought i'd end up.

maybe when this is all done, you can show me where you came from.

i'm not normally one to begrudge someone their secrets, but..

i'm already blessed to have you at my side.

don't you cut a fine figure.

i am not some lower city coinlad offering you a tumble.

there is nothing so depressing as learning one's true value.

i could use someone with your skills.

they're ravenous predators with fangs like daggers.

it's hardly an irrational fear to harbor.

you've been decent to me, so far.

everyone's got their own fears.

maybe that's what i like about you.

all of this was for nothing.

if you're here to help, get to the fight quickly.

gods, i thought you were one of those beasts.

i'm not chasing after it, if that's what you're thinking.

the little beast's charming once you get accustomed to the smell of rotting flesh.

[quibblyisme]

Please?

Who? Spencer Reid / Reader

Summary: Spencer comes home from a long day at work and needs you

Word count: 1.5k

Warning: Smut, use of "Ma'am, oral (f and m receiving), penitrative sex, bouncing, unprotected sex, idk.

A/n: This is my first smut... kinda nervous. Also I don't have real life experience so go easy on me

Spencer groaned as he opened the door to your shared apartment. He dragged his bags onto the floor and immediately found home on the couch. Hearing the noise, you made your way from the bedroom to see Spencer trying to massage away an oncoming headache.

"Oh baby...." you quickly scooped him up into your arms, running your hand through his hair.

"Work was so long..." He sighed.

"So much paperwork, and I normally love paperwork! But not when I have that trainer asking me questions every two seconds!" Spencer buried his face in the throw pillow.

"...And I missed you" he said in a near whisper. You knew that was the main reason for his mood.

For someone that everyone assumed to be innocent, he sure was horny. Wherever he went, he needed at least one hand on you. If it was in public, it would be an innocent handhold, but in the privacy of your own home, he'd have a hand on your inner thigh or one cupping your breast.

You moved to fully spoon him on the couch, hand splaying across his stomach, practically petting his happy trail. Spencer moved his hand to hold you and pushed himself further against you, signalling he wanted more.

You began to place little kisses across his neck as he played with your fingers, running his fingertips across your light pink colored manicured nails.

"You like them, baby?" You coo.

"Mhm, I like the bow too" He ran his thumb over the little bow charm to show which one he was talking about.

Spencer turned around and wrapped his arms around your torso, nuzzling his head into your neck, smelling the Ms. Dior perfume you always wore.

There you could really feel how much he needed you. You felt the familiar hardness pressing against your abdomen. There he tried subtly grinding against you to rid himself of the growing ache in his pants. He was too shy to ask you for more and was too sleepy to initiate. The grinding relieved a bit of pressure but not at all enough to satisfy him. His grinding was not subtle enough for you to not notice it.

"Sweetie?... Are you hard?" You whispered.

Instead of saying an audible response, he simply nodded into your chest. You picked Spencer up bridal style, carrying him to the bedroom, gently laying him on the bed.

"I'll be back, okay?"

You grabbed something from your dresser and walked into the en suite bathroom. Spencer tried to figure out what you were doing in there. He heard some shuffling and banging in the bathroom before you finally emerged.

Out you came in a light pink chiffon babydoll top. The bottom and neckline were lined in an intricate lace with a white ribbon bow on the middle of the neckline. The fabric cut just barely mid-thigh.

Unconsciously, Spencer started palming himself through his work pants.

"Tsk tsk tsk... shhhh, wait, baby." You slowly crawled on top of him, sitting in his lap, removing his hand from his pants.

As you crawled onto his lap, Spencer caught a view of your panties in the mirror in front of the bed. It was a perfectly white thong. He was salivating at the sight.

"Please," Spencer grabbed your hand, leading it to the tent in his pants.Before he started begging, you shut him up with a kiss... then another... then another.

Spencer eagerly slipped his tongue into your mouth as soon as he got the chance. His hands started mapping your body and eventually landed on your ass, kneading the plush skin. As you kissed him, you slipped his cardigan over his head, followed by unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Lift your hips, hun." Spencer lifted his hips, trying to keep the connection between your lips. You slipped his pants off, discarding them in the pile of clothes on the floor beside you two.

"Please... touch me now," Spencer begged pathetically.

"Only because you've been a good boy."

You slid down his boxers, and his fully hard erection popped out. It was leaking precum, and the tip was the color of your lip gloss before it was licked off by Spencer.

You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the cum and running it down the shaft, using it as lube. He whimpered at the touch. You waited for a little bit, watching him try to stay still.

Eventually you started to pump your hand with a teasingly loose grip and pace. Without warning, you dipped your head down, licking a strip of the underside of his dick. You placed a kiss on the tip before speaking:

"Such a big boy, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Mhm... ngh... big boy, yeah," he gripped the bedsheets.

"Please..." He whined.

"Please what? Use your words" You knew he wanted a blow job.

"Suck me off..."That was all you needed to wrap your mouth around the shaft, bobbing your head. Spencer started jerking his hips up, trying to get you to take more of him. You knew his orgasm was coming soon. His whines and moans grew in volume. His toes curled, and his legs grew weaker.

With one final suck and pump, his cum coated your mouth. He moaned at the sight of you swallowing his cum. Spencer let his head fall back as he tried to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat collecting on his forehead with his arm. You sat impatiently between his legs.

"Well...?" You say sassily.

"Hm?" Spencer opened his eyes, looking at your expression.

"Do I get to get off as well?" You scoffed.

Spencer's eyes lit up with excitement. He always loved eating you out. He waited for you to lie on the bed before he got ready. Straddling your hips, he slowly pulled your babydoll off.

He froze for a bit, staring at your tits. He reached a hand out and started massaging one, eyeing the nipple. He licked his lips before moving his head down towards it. He took your nipple in his mouth, playing with the other. Spencer began sucking, kissing, whatever he could do.

Once he ran out of breath, he lifted his head back up to caress your face. With gentle hands, he slowly pulled down your panties, revealing his dessert.

"Wow... you're so wet... for me?" He questioned.

You chuckled at the somewhat innocent nature of his question.

"Of course it's for you. Who else would it be for?" You reassured, holding back another chuckle.

He pouted before moving his head in between your legs. He was lying belly down on the bed, with his hands holding onto your thighs.

You were being impatient and placed a hand on the back of his head, shoving his face into your pussy. There he started to lick your cunt, occasionally flicking his tongue. His hand moved from your thigh to rub gentle circles into your clit.

"Nghh... good... good boy... keep goi—mmmmm."

You could barely speak through your moans. This only gave Spencer more encouragement. He kept eagerly licking and rubbing. He was like a starved man, and your pussy was the only thing he could eat.

"Spencer! I'm gonna... mm... I'm gonna!" You moaned out.

Spencer hummed against you, telling you that he heard you. The humming fully set you off. The orgasm crashed through you like a wave in the sea. Your legs were shaking and weak. Spencer lifted his head from in between your legs. His chin and nose were covered in your cum. He looked up at you with a shy smile.

"Did I do a good job?" He asked, somewhat insecurely.

"Good... good boy" you said, breathlessly.

Spencer, however, wasn't done. You can tell he wanted more; there was a certain glint in his eyes when he looked at you. He was pleading. You sighed before moving Spencer to lie on his back.

You wrapped a hand around Spencer's shaft. Spencer was confused when you didn't move your hand. He soon realized what was going to happen when you straddled his hips. You lined himself up with your entrance before slowly lowering yourself onto him. You let yourself get adjusted and made sure Spencer was comfortable.

"Are you comfy, darling?" You cooed.

"Mhm! Yes, ma'am!"

"Good boy," you said in your sultry voice that always got him going.

Now that you knew that Spencer was comfortable, you started bouncing. You raised your hips and dropped them down. Every single bounce hit your g-spot. Your hands made their place on the bed's headboard, the bed creaking under every drop.

Spencer's eyes were fixated on your tits. He reached a hand out to massage them, while the other slipped behind you to massage your ass.

"A-are you close?" Spencer whimpered out; he was so close.

"Yeah... yeah... almost there."

Finally you felt the familiar tightness in your abdomen and the familiar release. You would have collapsed right on Spencer's chest there, but you had to get him off too. Not shortly after, you felt his warm cum, coating your insides. With shaky legs you lifted yourself off of him, moving to cuddle with him.

"So... still thinking about work?" You teased.

"No... right now I'm thinking about baths." He giggled a bit.

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: the finale! Some short and sweet fluff to close ☺️ This was supposed to be a one shot that turned into a longer fic, but I loved writing it and I hope y'all have enjoyed reading it, I'll be writing more soon, please feel free to send me some requests! - ✨

Warnings: mentions of sex, reader getting turned on, swearing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 400

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

You woke the next morning, your head aching and your pussy pleasantly sore. Shielding your eyes from the bright sunlight streaming through the rips in the tattered curtains, you propped yourself up on the bed.

You were not in your room. This was not your apartment.

You rub your eyes blearily, willing the headache to go away and the memories of last night to show themselves. You definitely went home with someone. Trying to shake the hangover off, you moved the comforter you bought Sevika two Christmases ago off your body so you could-

Sevika.

This was Sevika’s apartment. Sevika’s bed. You recognised the bedding.

Well, fuck.

You steal a glance beside you, and there she is, her short hair a tangled mess and her mouth hanging open in a snore. She’s sound asleep, which means you may be able to escape without her noticing. As you try to disentangle yourself, she snorts a sound of disapproval and it’s then you realise that she’s spooning you, one hand resting on your thigh and the other wrapped securely around your shoulders.

You couldn’t deal with this heartbreak again. Not after last time. “Fuck. I have to get out of here.”

You freeze as Sevika mumbles behind you. “C’mere, babygirl.”

She hasn’t called you that since…

As she pulled you against her, she nuzzled your neck, breathing in deeply. Her voice coming out in a gravelly purr that makes your clit twitch. “I always love the way you smell, princess.”

Struggling to free yourself, you can’t help but giggle. “I smell gross, Sev, like sweaty club dancing and sex.”

She presses harder into you. “You smell divine, princess. You smell like me.”

“Well, that figures, since you were all over me last night.”

You try to move again but Sevika has her strong arms wrapped around you tight, one across your chest and one around your stomach. Her chest is rising and falling slowly, an indication that she’s probably fallen back to sleep. You push against her arm, trying not to get distracted and aroused by her bulging biceps but its no use.

“Sev, if you want me to leave, you have to let me go.”

The arm across your chest shifts, her hand resting gently around your throat. You feel your pussy start to throb, as Sevika kisses into your neck, where she bit you last night.

“I don’t want you to leave. I’m not letting you go ever again.”

[gothcsz]

first wip wednesday of 2025 🖤🥂

okay, i was tagged to do the last wip of 2024 by @sunshineispunk @slimybeth69 @joelmillerisapunk @myownwholewildworld but i didn't have anything i was proud of to share...

that was until the neighbor!javi brainrot kicked in + i got 7 episodes deep into narcos... so with that, i give you guys a snippet from the final chapter of our beloved neighbors series ❤️‍🩹 ignore any typos/grammar mistakes, this shit is unbeta'd asf and i have no idea when i'll get 'er done but uhhh.. yeah hehe enjoyyy

Berna is already seated, a bulky figure crammed into a chair that seems too small for him, like a predator disguised as a civilian.

His beady eyes flick up as Javier approaches, a greasy grin spreading across his face. “¿Nos volvemos a reunir tan pronto? ¿Me extrañas o qué, Peña?” (Meeting again so soon? Do you miss me or what, Peña?) he asks, lifting the tiny cup with fingers that seemed more suited to take lives than hold porcelain.

Javier slides into the seat across from him, the legs scraping against the tile floor. “¿Recibiste la información que te pedí sobre el banquero?” (Did you get the information I asked for? About the banker?) his voice is clipped, wasting no time on pleasantries.

Javier reaches into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out the photograph of Mateo to remind the other man why he’s here. The paper is crumpled from how many times he’s clenched it in his fist, a physical manifestation of his frustration.

He unfolds it carefully and places it on the table between them.

Berna doesn’t even blink, his gaze dropping to the photo with all the urgency of a man leisuring about. He stirs his coffee lazily, adding another spoonful of sugar. “¿Y yo que gano?” (What’s in it for me?)

Javier’s jaw ticks, the muscle feathering beneath his stubbled skin. He knows this game, has played it before, but it grates on him every time. “Lo de siempre,” (What it always is) he replies gruffly. “Esto no es diferente a nuestros otros acuerdos.” (This isn’t any different than our other agreements)

Berna leans back in his chair, his bulk shifting with a faint creak. “Seguro?” (You sure about that?) he asks, patronizingly, as he taps the edge of the photo with a stubby finger. “Javiercito, ¿sigues dejando que las mujeres dirijan tu vida?” (Javiercito, still letting women run your life?) He tuts, “Pero no te culpo. Una buena perra debilita hasta al hombre más fuerte.” (I don’t blame you. A good bitch drives even the toughest man into weakness)

He curls his fists under the table, blunt nails digging into the skin of his palms, willing himself to stay seated. His patience is running thin, making his leg bounce rapidly. 

“No se trata de eso,” (That’s not what this is about) Javier grinds out through clenched teeth, his brown eyes now dark and sharp like the edge of a blade.

Berna barks out a laugh, leaning forward slightly as if to drive the blade deeper. “Esto no funciona si nos decimos mentiras.” (This won’t work if we tell each other lies) His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper now, though his smug smile remains wide. “Lo estás buscando por la orden que envió.” (You’re after him for that call he sent out)

Javi’s irritation is momentarily replaced by intrigue. He straightens slightly. “¿Cual llamada?” (What call?)

Berna’s grin grows wolfish, pure amusement bubbling into a deep, obnoxious laugh that fills the small space. “¿Ves? Lo sabía.” (See? I knew it) He wags a thick finger at Javier, like a teacher scolding a disobedient student. “Tu banquero hizo una llamada para deshacerse de su mujer. Una empleada de la embajada. Americana. Tú lo sabes mejor que nadie cómo se sienten estos tipos cuando matan a un americano, especialmente a una tan insignificante… y muy bonita, por lo que he oído.” (Your banker made a call to get rid of his girl. An embassy employee. American. You know better than anyone how these guys feel about killing an American, especially one so insignificant… and very pretty, from what I hear)

Javier’s gut twists at the confirmation of something he practically already knew. He doesn’t need the clarification, doesn’t want it, but the man keeps going.

“Emputó a muchos con ese truco. Huyó como un cobarde. Supongo que por eso estás aquí. Por ella.” (He pissed a lot of people off with that trick. Ran away like a coward. I guess that's why you're here. Because of her)

Javier flicks his tongue across his teeth. “Eso no importa,” (That doesn’t matter) he retorts lowly. “Sólo necesito saber dónde está... el y esos hijos de puta que cumplieron la orden.” (I just need to know where he is... and those two motherfuckers who followed through with the order)

Berna hums, sitting back again as he strokes his chin like he’s considering it. “Cartagena,” he finally gives him a location, something to fucking work with, as if he were giving directions to el mercado. “Ahí se esconde. Sin embargo, consiguió protección, pero no es nada que los gringos no puedan manejar.” (That’s where he’s hiding. Got himself some protection, but it’s nothing the American’s can’t handle) That last bit said mockingly to purposefully annoy the agent.

“¿Y los otros?” (And the others?) Javier presses, not letting him ride his nerves so easily.

“Santos and Rico,” Berna supplies, shrugging nonchalantly. “Siguen en Bogotá. Frecuentan un bar allí sobre los barrios. Bebidas baratas, música de mierda... tu tipo de lugar, ¿eh?” (They’re still in Bogotá. They frequent a bar near the barrios. Cheap booze, shitty music—your kind of place, eh?)

Javier doesn’t rise to the bait again, simply nodding as he stands, swiping the photo of Mateo off the table and back into his pocket, switching it out for his trusty pack of cigarettes.

“Ten cuidado, Peña,” (Careful, Peña) Berna calls after him, his tone mocking. “No dejes que te vuelva estúpido.” (Don’t let her make you stupid)

[sweetfire01]

I wear glasses 24/7 and I can't see very well without them unless something is super up close to my face. Would any of the yandere daddies take advantage of that? I'm just curious 🤔

Found all these "I'll continue writing them later" draft, I hope I can finish them soon FOR REALLY this time.

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

I think Asmo is the only one who would let you keep the glasses without problems. What if you bump into something while crawling? Imagine the bruise that would form! Or while coloring with your fingers you miss the paper and paint your clothes! What a nightmare! Plus, the glasses are so stylish and he will let you try all kinds of them.

Also Levi would leave them on you, otherwise how are you going to see all these anime? Or to play video games? Sure, he likes to win, but then it gets all too easy when you can't finish a single lap on Devil Kart: you can't even distinguish your own character on screen! And he can't risk you accidentally destroying some of his action figures...

Perhaps he and Satan will be more likely to give you glasses with a lower prescription. Levi loves helping you and guiding your hands on the joystick, as if you are too little to understand what you need to do, and the fourth born loves hearing you stumble when he point at a word and ask you to read it. You just look like a child learning! That's why you still need him to read a book to you.

But the others, ooh, they will really use it to their advantage. If you're with Belphie you have to sleep, so it only makes sense that you take them off anyway, right? It's not like you have to do something.

Beel loves how you don't notice the spoon while he feed you until it's already near your mouth. If you don't open it in time you end up making a mess and he has to clean it up with his bib. You threw a tantrum when he tied it around you, but now aren't you glad Daddy knew better? C'mon, say "AAH". Here comes the plane… We know how Mammon will never admit how much he adores you, so he uses the "theycan't see well, I'm just helping them out" excuse to be with you. He's also the only one who, if you cry enough and give him those puppy ​​eyes, he'll give you your glasses back. But just to watch cartoons, okay? And you have to cuddle with him in the meantime! Lucifer and Diavolo would tease you all the time, buying you one of those playmats with the games hanging on the strings. At least now you can see and play with them while lying on your back. Aren't you happy? And to think you throw so many tantrums about not being a baby... Simeon would do the same, but without the teasing. He's just serious. Human babies have bad eyesight, so you are no exception. And so it only makes sense that he would buy you those things, right? Oh, but he will make sure to be with you the whole time: you can't see him, but you can hear his voice as he reads and sings to you or feel the warmth of his skin as he nurses and cuddles you.