#Ski Lover Jokes

[noisycowboyglitter]

Fun Heart Love Ski Valentine Activities for Couples on the Slopes

"Embracing the Slopes of Love: A Heart-Warming Valentine's Day on the Ski Slopes"

As the crisp winter air whispers the arrival of Valentine's Day, the allure of the snow-capped slopes beckons couples seeking to celebrate their love in a unique and exhilarating way. The "Heart Love Ski Valentine" experience blends the thrill of the mountain with the

Buy now:19.95$

warmth of heartfelt connection, creating a truly memorable celebration of affection.

Gliding hand-in-hand down the powdery trails, couples have the opportunity to revel in the shared joy of carving turns and conquering the challenges of the mountain. The adrenaline-fueled adventure, punctuated by laughter and playful banter, serves as a metaphor for the journey of their relationship – filled with both exhilarating highs and moments of mutual trust and support.

Amid the picturesque backdrop of snow-covered peaks and cozy mountain lodges, couples can indulge in romantic gestures, such as crafting heart-shaped designs in the snow or sharing a warm embrace atop a scenic overlook. These intimate moments, infused with the excitement of the ski slopes, create a tapestry of memories that will forever be etched in the hearts and minds of the lovers.

Buy now

Whether it's their first time on the slopes or a cherished annual tradition, the "Heart Love Ski Valentine" allows couples to forge deeper bonds, nurture their sense of adventure, and celebrate the pure joy of being together on the most romantic day of the year.

"Laughter on the Slopes: Embracing the Funny Side of Ski Riding for the Devoted Enthusiast"

For the devoted ski riding enthusiast, the "Funny For Ski Riding Lover" experience offers a delightful blend of laughter, camaraderie, and the thrill of conquering the slopes. Whether it's playfully teasing a partner about their less-than-graceful snow plows or sharing a hearty chuckle over a particularly comical wipeout, the shared sense of humor on the mountain becomes a unifying force that strengthens the bond between fellow snow sport enthusiasts.

From hilarious ski fashion choices to the endless meme-worthy moments captured on the slopes, the "Funny For Ski Riding Lover" celebrates the lighter side of this adrenaline-fueled pursuit. By

Buy now

embracing the comedic element of their shared passion, skiers and snowboarders can create lasting memories filled with joy, laughter, and the unbreakable spirit of the ski community.

In the end, the "Funny For Ski Riding Lover" serves as a reminder that the true joy of the sport lies not only in the exhilaration of the slopes, but also in the camaraderie and shared moments of uproarious laughter that make the experience truly unforgettable.

"A Celebration of Love: The Timeless Charm of Valentine's Day"

Valentine's Day stands as a cherished annual celebration that captivates the hearts and minds of people across the globe. This day, dedicated to the universal language of love, offers a timeless opportunity to express affection, reaffirm commitments, and bask in the warmth of shared experiences.

Buy now

Whether it's the exchange of heartfelt cards and gifts, the indulgence in romantic dinners, or the simple act of quality time spent together, the essence of Valentine's Day lies in its ability to bring people closer, fostering deeper connections and lasting memories. As the world pauses to honor the power of love, this day serves as a poignant reminder of the importance of cherishing the special bonds that enrich our lives.

[distort-t]

SHY AFFECTION PROMPTS—

Walking side by side, the back of their fingers brushing—too shy to initiate hand-holding.

Teasing the tips of person B’s hair between their fingers, watching their fingers, unable to meet B’s gaze.

Subtle acts of service: opening a door for them, covering cornered edges when the other bends down to pick something up, purchasing something of the other’s interest.

”You look—uh, good. You look good.” Stammering, trying to appear confident when complimenting the other. Cue the throat clearing and avoidance of eye-contact.

Hesitant smiles and blushy cheeks.

Person A about to say something before thinking against it and closing their mouth.

Agonising slow-paced romance.

Person B sticking by person A’s side while they’re sick and stuck to bed rest, despite A’s warning of getting them sick too.

Thoughtful picnic dates.

Almost confessions.

”I care about you, and I want the best for you.”

Friends to lovers.

Looking for each other in social settings.

“You mean more to me than that.”

”Come on, we’re friends.” “Are we really?”

Angsty confessions after built up feelings being hidden.

Everyone can see it but them.

“We’re just friends!” “With how B is looking at you now? I don’t think you’re just friends.”

Starry night skies, damp grass, and deep talks about life.

B learning about A’s body insecurities and finding that it’s their favourite part of them.

Love-fuelled kisses under whispering nights.

So deeply in love that it almost makes their friends uncomfortable to witness.

Feathery forehead kisses.

Neither of them raise their voice—a love so gentle and kind that it makes your teeth rot.

Either one has social anxiety and the other orders for them at cafes and restaurants, or both of them do and one disregards their own anxiety and steps up.

Late nights cuddled up and quiet giggles.

”You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

”I want our kids to have your eyes.”

Inside jokes that literally no one understands.

[coffee-and-geto]

“BE MY VOICE AND I CHOOSE YOU TO FILL THE VOID”

“Why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?” “Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

pairing: fashion designer! suguru geto x supermodel! reader

summary: after you broke up with suguru a few years ago, you swore you’d never have anything to do with him ever again… until new york fashion week arrived and you found yourself forced to take part in the event with suguru geto — aka your ex and one of the most famous personalities in the fashion world, as your fashion designer. but perhaps the latter will take advantage of the event to do his utmost to regain your heart.

warnings: +18 only, smut, modern au! (no curses), exes to lovers, geto is your ex-boyfriend, fluff, (light) angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety attack, bossy! reader, nobara is the reader’s assistant but also plays cupid, only one bed/second chance trope, jealous! geto, gojo makes an appearance because he’s a fashion designer too, switch! geto, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, handjob (m! receiving), body praises, fanart by @ / hiikeu.

wc: 15,257

“He wants you among his troupe.”

You nearly spit out the sip of your drink through the straw. “Excuse me?” you laugh out loud.

But even in front of the serious expression of one of the employees of the agency you work for, it’s hard to keep your own. A fit of giggles takes over your stomach, releasing uncontrollable laughter that echoes throughout your dressing room.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Nobara — your assistant — squeezes her planner against her chest — a nervous tic that has never been trivial to you. Silence finally returns to the room, and neither of the other two women utter a single word. The corners of your lips fall. “This is a joke, right?” you whisper breathlessly.

Nobara pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls for a few seconds before showing you an announcement from the official website of New York Fashion Week. She is followed by the employee who hands you a tablet screen displaying an email signed by someone you had erased from your life years ago:

Suguru Geto.

°°°°

“Next.” Suguru’s sharp tone cracks like a whip as another model steps onto the casting studio podium. His fist clenches nervously around the handle of the megaphone, resting its bell on the foldable wooden table.

In front of the silhouette of yet another candidate, Suguru’s gaze scrutinizes the model’s fine features that adorn her refined face with prominent cheekbones. A defined jawline. Hazel eyes and a slender body.

“Next,” Suguru repeats mechanically — perhaps because his eyes are desperately searching for your form? With each new woman, he hopes to meet your captivating gaze. And he almost systematically dismisses everyone when it’s not you?

“Mr. Geto, maybe we should—”

“Silence,” he cuts off without a glance at Manami, his assistant.

She sighs and offers an apologetic smile to the model who leaves the podium with a look of icy disappointment. Suguru’s right leg starts to twitch slightly in his chair—a sign of anxiety gradually eroding the calm he tries to maintain in his troubled mind.

“Night Skies: The Illuminated Darkness.” 

A relatively inspiring theme and quite easy to design. So why has no inspiration come to him since the announcement? Why do his thoughts constantly drift to outfits that only you deserve to wear, making him prefer to withdraw his participation rather than let someone else wear them?

Fuck.

After the next four hours, Suguru and Manami leave the casting studio for a break in the lounge. He leans against the counter, letting his obsidian eyes fix on a void, swept away by his overwhelming reflections. In the background, the coffee machine rumbles.

You had to join his troupe. Even though he already envisions a firm refusal from your agency. But he is ready to try anything for you — even risks that could endanger his career.

Manami clears her throat slightly and takes a hesitant step towards him. “Mr. Geto? Out of the three hundred top models proposed by partner agencies, we’ve only shortlisted four…” She fiddles with her nails painted in vermillion red, bites her lower lip, and adds, “And that’s under my insistence. At this point, I seriously doubt—”

“Write a letter to this agency,” Suguru cuts in once again without listening to a word of what she tried to explain. He hands her a business card from your agency and mentions your name. “You must know her. I want her among the models for my collection. Otherwise, I’ll cancel my participation,” he declares in an uncompromising tone.

Manami carefully takes the small card and studies it. She lets out a perplexed sigh and nods. “Alright.”

°°°°

“No, absolutely not! I refuse! Reply to him that it won’t be possible!”

“Miss, please—” Nobara tries to calm you and prevent you from committing murder against the top model manager of the agency.

“We’re talking about Suguru Geto! THE internationally renowned designer!” the manager yells with such vehemence that it surely carries well beyond your dressing room.

“I don’t give a fucking damn! There are thousands of models in the world! No one knows, so reply to this email with a fucking refusal!” you yell back just as fiercely. Your usually well-groomed hair is slightly disheveled by a few rebellious strands as agitated as your anger.

There is no way you’re participating in New York Fashion Week or any other event involving Suguru Geto. Not after everything that happened. 

Not after he abandoned you. 

No.

“But are you aware of what you’re saying—”

“Shut up! If you’re not happy, I’ll quit this damn agency right now! Do you think you’re the only one who wants me? I have hundreds who will be at my feet as soon as I’ll leave!” you spit after a bitter laugh.

Nobara’s soothing hands rest on your shoulders and force you to sit in a chair. Assured that you won’t attempt another assault on the manager, who has turned pale at your declaration, your ginger-haired assistant easily pushes the manager out, whispering to her not to set foot back in here until the refusal is sent to Geto.

She tries to argue one last time, her voice a bit more pleading and less aggressive, but Nobara slams the door in her face. She leans against it, sighs deeply, and closes her eyes for a moment. “Phew…”

As for your own state, ‘fury’ is the perfect adjective. Hair in disarray, cheeks flushed with anger, chest heaving with irregular, harsh breaths, and a vein throbbing along your neck; it’s as if you could turn your dressing room upside down at any moment.

Nobara heads to your automatic water dispenser and pours you a fresh glass. After ensuring you drink every drop, she notices you seem calmer.

Your bloodshot eyes meet her gaze, and she offers you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll personally make sure everything is sent properly.”

You nod and run a hand over your face to wipe away your overflowing emotions.

It’s crazy how just the mention of that cursed name can set you off. But the final straw was when your manager was informed of Suguru Geto’s request for you to join his models for New York Fashion Week. She insisted relentlessly despite your patience for a no.

She said she didn’t understand. 

Of course, no one could understand when no one knew that one of the world’s greatest designers had been your boyfriend before your careers took radically different paths. But how could you explain when he was the one who pushed you to break up with him, leaving you alone, lost, and broken with only an unknown fate to face without anyone’s help?

It was without anyone’s help that you built yourself into who you are today. 

Even less your international career.

All the agencies are at your feet, but the only person you wanted to see there wasn’t. 

So there was no reason to pay attention. 

You will not participate in New York Fashion Week. As long as it involves Suguru Geto, anyway.

°°°°

Mouth agape in shock, Suguru thinks what he sees before him is a prank. 

But it’s indeed a clear refusal from the agency you work for. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

NO.

Suguru storms out of his design office and rushes upstairs to his luxurious bedroom to rummage through his personal belongings. An old photo album is hidden under the piles of clothes in his dresser. He scatters his things carelessly, paying no attention to the mess, and with trembling hands, he drops to his knees, flipping through the album.

On each page, a plastic film covers photos of you and him. One — the most painful — is the first one he took at the beginning of your relationship with him. Both of you standing next to an ice cream vendor, radiant smiles on your faces with sun rays illuminating both your faces, you had your arms around Suguru’s neck. Another one, as he turns the pages. You, lying in his bed one morning. He had taken it the night you had your first time with him. Your figure, which he worships, is covered with his sheets, and your mouth is slightly open as you sleep. A cute little drool escapes from your mouth.

All these photos hold real memories. Proving that nothing was imagined by him when, in his moments of madness, he wondered how he could have ended up here if it all was real. His heart twists in his chest when his eyes catch a photo of him with a bouquet of flowers in his hands and your lips pressed against his cheek. Those flowers were the first Suguru had ever received. He had never received flowers — not even from his own family. You were the very first to give him any.

Suguru pinches his lips, lost in reflections that lead him to check your Instagram page. On your profile, your posts are often collaborations with luxury brands, your body wrapped in fabrics showing your silhouette in its best light, some old videos of you as a child that you wished to share with the world, or random photos of you in pajamas in front of your mirror or with your daily makeup.

He couldn’t help but watch your stories, your posts, your interviews, and your shows in the shadows, never intervening as much in public as in private. 

Suguru is obsessed with you. 

And he has never stopped being, even after you broke up with him years ago. He never wanted to end things with you. 

He pushed you to do it so as not to hurt you more than you would be.

It was when you announced the breakup that he felt all the accumulated resentment he had caused in your heart, and he was nostalgically happy for you. 

You no longer had to endure the pain of canceled dates, missed calls, his constant absence.

He knew, at the time, that he was hurting you. He knew you hid your wounds behind forced smiles and excuses you found for his lack of involvement and neglect without him even having to make them when his career started to take off in the fashion world. He understood that he didn’t deserve you.

Yet today, Suguru burns for you. 

He is ready to risk his career to find you and seek your forgiveness. 

He is ready to lose all his dignity, let you use him like a mere pawn, humiliate him, and break him. 

All that, just for you.

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants your forgiveness at all costs. 

Even if he doesn’t deserve you, Suguru wants to redeem himself to you. 

Leaving your Instagram page, he opens Twitter and tries to find a way to force your hand to participate with him in New York Fashion Week, to meet him, to allow him to do everything to deserve you again and no longer have any regrets. 

He taps the ‘New Tweet’ icon and writes words that may place his reputation on an unsteady platter that could fall at any moment.

°°°°

The grip around your phone threatens to make it explode between your fingers. Your knuckles whiten, your hand trembles, and your eyes burn as you read the few words on a Twitter post where you’ve been tagged. It’s as if this time, you’ll actually turn your dressing room and even your agency’s headquarters upside down.

“@reader’sagency. @reader, would you do me the honor of participating with me as a model at the next New York Fashion Week? :)”

Your eye twitches, and you robotically lift your head toward your assistant. “Nobara, I beg you. Pinch me, hit me, slap me, but tell me this is just a nightmare.”

She looks up from your phone and sighs with a forced smile. “It’s... a nightmare?”

You grab a cushion from your red velvet sofa and bury your face in it to muffle a long scream from the depths of your soul. Nobara chuckles and places a hand on your shoulder. “You can just refuse. I’m sure everything will be fine. A public refusal should calm him down,” she whispers.

“Have you seen the comments, retweets, and reposts?” you murmur in a small voice, your brain numb.

Nobara frowns and shakes her head before taking out her own phone. But you stop her by handing her yours without lifting your face from the cushion. “No... Already? But... He posted it less than twenty-four hours ago!” Nobara breathes out in astonishment, covering her mouth with her hand.

Indeed, even though Geto’s tweet is less than a day old, it hasn’t stopped an overwhelming number of internet users and fans worldwide from reacting strongly to the news. You could very well refuse publicly yourself or through your agency — even humiliate him by posting a screenshot of the initial private request that was rejected, making him look desperate and creepy. But that’s not the issue.

By daring to renew his request publicly as if the previous one never existed, he’s putting your reputation and your fans’ hopes — whom you cherish so much — at risk.

If you refuse, you risk disappointing many and tarnishing your image as an arrogant and condescending supermodel for refusing to participate in such a globally anticipated event with one of the best-known designers in the world — despite the fact that no one knows about your past connection with Geto.

The reactions are so hyped, so excited and amazed at the possibility of you and Geto forming a partnership that would result in something beyond imagination.

Suguru Geto has just forced your hand, hovering a threat over both your career and reputation, as well as his own. But you need to make a decision.

You lift your head from the cushion and take a deep breath to brace yourself for what you’re about to do.

“Nobara?”

°°°°

With one foot in a pair of shiny white stiletto sandals and an outfit of the same color, one of your bodyguards helps you step out of the black sedan with your first step onto the ground. You stand up elegantly, wearing dark sunglasses. You are escorted in front of a huge building — one familiar to you from the pages of fashion magazines you usually read — and the immaculate sliding doors open for you.

You stand in the middle of the enormous hall, head held high and one eyebrow raised. “Weren’t the other models supposed to be here at the specified time?” you ask Nobara, who hurries to join you at your side.

“That’s what the email indicated…” she sighs, busy arranging the white fur draped over your arms, framing your long strapless dress in the same color as your heels — a tribute to Marilyn Monroe. Nobara lifts her head with a worried frown. “He couldn’t have stood us up or changed the address at the last minute—”

A confident and cheerful female voice calls your name. In a synchronized movement, you and your assistant turn toward an elevator entrance where a fairly tall woman with a slender and elegant figure, dressed in a long sleeveless Byzantine purple dress, stands. Your two bodyguards follow you and Nobara to join the woman, but she raises a firm hand.

“Your assistant will suffice.” She smiles professionally, and you nod, entering the elevator with the other two women. Like Nobara, she holds a clipboard against her chest and almost looks at you with admiration. “It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

You offer her a polite half-smile, and the elevator begins to climb its endless floors.

“My name is Manami Suda, Suguru Geto’s personal assistant and one of his executives,” she continues, glancing at Nobara. “And you are?”

“Nobara Kugisaki, her personal assistant,” Nobara replies with equal seriousness, and a hint of pride fills your chest. “But since you are Mr. Geto’s assistant, that answers our question. Why are we the only ones to arrive at the agency on time? Where are the other models?” she asks, tilting her head to the side, skeptically.

A small chime announces the arrival at the very top floor, and the doors open to let the three of you out.

Manami doesn’t lose her smile and leads the way down a corridor with an immaculate gray carpet. Her black heels make muffled sounds with each step until reaching a door where she knocks three times. “Everything will be explained by Mr. Geto himself,” she assures, opening the door after a ‘come in’ is heard from the other side.

The voice, though muffled by the door, is easily recognizable. A bitter pang grips your heart, but you shake it off within seconds with a blink.

Manami steps aside and introduces you as you enter.

At the back of the office stands a black swivel chair facing away from you — masking the already known identity of the owner and adding palpable tension.

Manami discreetly leaves, closing the door silently, leaving you to face one of your worst nightmares. The chair turns to face you and Nobara, and the face of Japan’s most popular designer and couturier lays his dark eyes on you.

You remain secretly frozen a few meters away, back to the door, your eyes coldly staring at your ex.

Suguru Geto has always had a reputation for being a man of style, in his behavior, his language, and his way of dressing. While the basic suit he wears contrasts with the extravagant outfits that the wealthiest designers can afford — in this field, they are certainly experts, and some can wear clothes as expensive as the series of Picasso’s “Les Femmes d’Alger” paintings — his perfectly sculpted body and charm embellish the slightest thing he wears, even if it was straight from an old supermarket. But if there’s one prominent feature of his face that can match his advantageous physique (his body), it’s his hair. Being a chic, elegant, and refined man, Suguru is also known for his iconic long raven hair. With strands cascading down his back and bangs framing his temple, the half-bun at the back of his head has always earned him numerous compliments and collaborations with the most well-known brands for their haircare products.

Suguru’s piercing eyes narrow as his lips stretch into a smile. Your name rolling off his tongue gives you goosebumps. “Welcome. Please, have a seat.” With a broad gesture of his hand, he indicates two cocoa-colored leather chairs at the end of a ridiculously long glass table.

You take a seat without looking at Suguru at first, and Nobara seems to read your thoughts as she immediately asks, “Where are the other models?”

Suguru places his forearms on the table in a measured gesture, but as he responds, his gaze never leaves yours. “None are at this agency, it seems.” And it all feels as if asking such a question is stupid.

“That’s what was written in the email,” you reply in a dry voice.

“That’s what was written in the email,” Suguru confirms with a strange softness. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? If I hadn’t said that, you would have refused the meeting.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Suguru’s smile widens even more as he continues, “Aren’t you happy to see me again?” And for a nanosecond, you thought you saw his irises darken.

Nobara alternates her gaze between you and Suguru, completely lost.

“Mr. Geto,” your tongue clicks against your palate, “I came here to discuss the initial progress of the collection you will present at New York Fashion Week. Nothing else.” You pause. “If it’s for any other subject, please address my manager, and I can leave right now.” Your frozen facial mask doesn’t falter at all.

“Awwww… You’re breaking my little heart, love—”

“Enough.”

Nobara looks dubious. “You… you already know each other?”

“We…” You pause, torn between the idea of confessing everything to Nobara or pretending nothing happened. “In the past. Before we became known,” you reluctantly admit. “But it doesn’t matter. I have nothing to do with anyone now.”

Suguru’s gaze darkens and never leaves yours. Yet, he doesn’t say a word, and an uncomfortable silence sets in.

Nobara decides to break it by clearing her throat and speaking again. “I— I see. I won’t say a word,” she murmurs.

You sigh and straighten slightly in your seat. “Fine. Let’s discuss the proposed theme.”

Suguru’s Adam’s apple moves as he swallows, and during the next half-hour, neither of you brings up your past relationship with Suguru again. The choice of the leading model was quickly settled on being you — because among all the proposals from partner agencies, no other model in Japan reaches your level of fame.

Suguru also doesn’t waste time revealing that he has selected very few models since the theme announcement. The delay will potentially impact the preparation and organization for New York Fashion Week, but he hasn’t bothered to explain why. He simply asked for your help with the rest of the selection.

You hesitated before accepting, finding it strange that someone like him is so behind. But how could you know that you are Suguru’s muse — his source of inspiration, the purpose of his existence? He is much more confident than a few weeks ago since he finally saw you again and ensured you decided to work by his side. It’s only a matter of time before you settle the score with the low blow he dealt you — something impossible to do with witnesses like Nobara around.

The agreements also included a trip from Tokyo to New York. The group will be accommodated in a secure, comfortable, and luxurious hotel until Fashion Week ends and preparations allow access to dressing rooms for each model.

This means being much closer to Suguru than expected...

°°°°

“What do you think?” 

“I’m not a stylist.” 

“That’s true; you’re more than that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Come on… Don’t be so rude! I need your help!” Suguru grins, and you roll your eyes, noting the name of a model who just walked past. 

On the runway where hundreds and hundreds of models from all over the world are parading, you, along with Suguru — much to your dismay — are perched on a high platform giving a panoramic view of each model. Of course, he had to move his two-seater table just to spend time with you — a detail he didn’t hesitate to hide from you. What’s the point? he muses with amusement, glancing at you; from the side, he gets a view of your hair falling like a curtain along your cheeks, your nose bent over your clipboard as you jot down names of models that would be interesting to keep for Fashion Week. This poses no problem in itself, especially for an event like this.

If only your partner wasn’t Suguru Geto. 

Ugh.

“Help you? While I’m the only one noting names while you harass me with your pathetic attempts at conversation? Don’t pretend to ask my opinion when you’ve barely looked at more than ten models,” you retort irritably. The ballpoint pen rolls over the paper with obvious frenzy.

“‘Harass’ is a bit harsh,” Suguru comments, his lips pursed in a mockingly offended pout — just to hide his predatory smile. “I’d say I’m trying to have a conversation — something you, let’s be honest, avoid like the plague.” A smile curves his thin lips. “And then, why bother looking at what doesn’t interest me when I already have what I want. I’ve never bitten, you know,” he whispers, his eyes softened by a tenderness he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“You don’t have me,” you respond immediately. You raise your eyebrows and, without looking at him, you continue, “Oh really? You do have quite a resemblance to dogs,” You wrinkle your nose to sneer mockingly as he takes offense. It’s strange because you haven’t laughed in front of Suguru for years. But as expected, the laugh is not joyful; on the contrary, it’s meant to hurt him because you still can’t stand his presence — even less when it’s forced.

“Hey! You’re insulting me!” he frowns and wipes away a laugh. Suguru shakes his head and sighs. “How cruel.”

Your lips turn downwards, and you roll your eyes yet again (you could have won an award for the record number of eye rolls in such a short time). Ignoring the feeling of vice and hatred gnawing at your heart, you refocus on the runway several meters below. The blinding spotlights brilliantly illuminate all these models eager to participate in the highly anticipated Fashion Week alongside Suguru Geto, the internationally renowned stylist, and you, a supermodel equally famous — while you both are plunged into the shadows of the upper floor that looks more like a hallway where stage technicians usually come to secure and manipulate high-up equipment, rather than anything else. Especially when the provided table is just foldable wood and almost fragile to abrupt movements.

Your eye catches a rather tall model with long ebony hair and golden, radiant skin. Her silhouette seems almost ethereal, and it’s at this moment that you don’t regret for a single second having taken your life into your own hands when you were alone just to admire the beauty of all these women of various beauties, shapes, and ages. The female body is beautiful.

No, magnificent.

“That one…” you murmur, noting the candidate’s name announced by Manami below. You bite your lower lip in a concentration tic. “She’s perfect. We’ll keep her for later.”

Suguru nods, but his gaze hasn’t once rested on the model whose name you just mentioned. His irises don’t leave your features, which he has missed so much, especially at this distance. “Hmm…” he hums simply. He gets lost in his contemplation.

You haven’t changed a bit.

Even if your hair is styled differently, your makeup meticulously done, and your chic and luxurious fashion sense, to Suguru, you left him in the same state you are now. He knows your body by heart — not thanks to the photos he kept of you — but because your existence has marked his so much that your simple face is forever etched in his retina.

When Suguru says he is obsessed with you, he goes to the end of his words.

Of course, he regrets his past actions and seeks the right moment to ask for your forgiveness, but he couldn’t hold back.

It was stronger than him.

°°°°

In the spacious studio typically reserved for smaller fashion shows (the irony noted), today it is being used to give Suguru a first taste of what his final troupe was proposing. With your help, Suguru has finally moved on to the next stage just before the outfit creations begin.

Manami, who is backstage, is managing the music and the secondary effects. She sends a message to Suguru to indicate that the line of models can begin their walk before returning from the runway.

The music starts with a rhythmic tempo suited to the steps the models are to take. You are the last to go, which annoys you immensely. Your supermodel status is far more valuable than that of a mere model. Every aspect of your profession is a relentless effort; so seeing these poor models advance with such banal and mediocre strides makes you want to vomit.

Did you accept this for that?

Already, you’ve had to endure disdainful looks from the other models in the group regarding your popularity. It’s quite audacious for them to act so confident when their steps resemble those of a penguin, you can’t help but ponder.

When it’s finally your turn, you waste no time.

The music resumes, and you begin your first steps with a feline grace, almost silently gliding down the runway. Your high heels strike the ground with a hypnotic regularity, syncing with the pulsing beat of the music and its rhythmic cadence: a perfect synchronization. Each step is a demonstration of confidence and control, shoulders straight, chin slightly lifted, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Each step brings a breeze that lightly lifts your hair from your face, like a halo enhancing your display worthy of a true model. At the end of the runway, you pause gracefully before turning on your heels with impeccable precision.

As you return, it’s even more captivating as you continue to walk with palpable assurance, your hips swaying slightly, capturing everyone’s attention.

Your turn finally ends, and the desired effect has certainly been achieved: everyone’s eyes have been glued to you from start to finish. You also didn’t miss Suguru’s gaze fixated on you, his lips parted in captivation. This, of course, earns you the disdainful looks of the other models in the troupe, but a triumphant smile adorns the curve of your lips.

This is what it means to be a model.

“Very well, very well! Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your very pleasant and… captivating performances,” Suguru announces energetically, standing in front of his chair with his arms open towards his official troupe.

Unsurprisingly, his gaze does not leave you and remains fixed on your silhouette as you move towards the backstage, back to him.

°°°°

You knock on the door, and Suguru’s muffled voice invites you in.

For a stylist and designer as popular as he is, Suguru’s sewing workshop is… more unconventional than you would have thought.

Indeed, several spacious tables are littered with sketch sheets—some colorful—fabrics of all colors, lengths, and textures. Crafting materials are scattered here and there, cluttering the passage along with open boxes on the floor, making it nearly impossible to take a step without brushing against piles of stuff that threaten to collapse. But at least the workshop isn’t filthy and retains the same aesthetic touch you’d find in TV shows or fashion serials.

At the far end of the room, a single chair is occupied by Suguru, who is sitting with his back to you. Hearing your approach, he turns towards you, his eyes fixed on a bright yellow measuring tape and a metallic needle wedged between his teeth, with a fuchsia pink thread running through the tip.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, moving towards you with the help of the wheels on his chair.

Feeling self-conscious, you take another step closer, and when he lifts his eyes to you, it feels as if you are naked before him: less than a step away, you are wearing a delicate sport bra that barely covers your chest, dreading any shiver that might reveal hardened nipples, along with a pair of equally revealing bicycle shorts in the same color. You had insisted to Manami on a firm refusal to wear any underwear in front of Suguru, without providing a reason.

Even though he has seen far more intimate parts of your body before, the current situation with him challenges everything.

A faint blush colors your cheeks, and without a word, Suguru extends his arms, his long, slender, pale fingers wrapping the measuring tape around your waist first. You can’t gauge the meaning of his gaze. How is he reacting internally right now?

But his mischievous remark answers you the moment after, “You okay? Are you still breathing?” The sarcastic tone immediately irritates you.

“And you’re taking the opportunity to enjoy the view, aren’t you?” you retort venomously. You’re about to continue spewing your hatred towards him when his hands gently — but with some firmness — grasp your hips and make you turn around. You stifle a moan at his touch, which sends a shiver through your body and, as you feared, your nipples harden. You step away from him abruptly when his breath grazes your side. “What are you doing?” you ask sharply, your arms futilely trying to cover your chest.

Suguru sighs. “Are you done acting like a kid?” He grabs you by the elbows and forces you to turn your back to him. He wraps the measuring tape around you again. “So no, I’m not enjoying the view, I’m doing my job.” He kneels to measure your hips, and with a glance downward, you see his amused smile. “You should have refused to work with me if it bothers you so much to be measured.”

“Ah, as if I had a choice?” you retort abruptly.

“You did,” he whispers as he stands up, brushing your hair away from your back, and for a moment, his warm breath caresses your shoulders. All you want right now is for him to place a tender kiss on the side of your neck, but the resentment towards him always takes over.

“No, you know that’s not true.” Your tone is harsh as a whip. “By the way, have all the other models been through here? I saw assistants with all this gear. Why am I the only one alone with you?”

Suguru grins. “The others went through with my assistants,” he replies with a chuckle before taking your bust measurements. “You’re the first I’m measuring, and the only one.”

“What game are you playing?” you murmur after a pause.

“None.”

He continues with the rest of your measurements — bust, thighs, legs, and finally arms. During this part, he takes an unusually long time to scrutinize you, and his head tilted close to your skin makes your heart race uncontrollably.

The final straw is when his lips accidentally brush against your arm.

“Stop that,” you warn him all of a sudden, stepping back. Your furious gaze seems to want to kill Suguru on the spot, and he loses his smile.

“I—”

“Stop pretending to be clueless, Geto.”

He already knows it will be hard to win you back, especially with this reaction he had long feared. But it had to explode sooner or later.

“If you think I’ve forgotten the past, you’re deluding yourself. The jerk you were is still the same in my eyes,” you seethe.

Suguru takes a step towards you in an attempt to beg you not to avoid him as you continue to back away. He murmurs your name in a plea. “I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be, but I did all this for you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to refuse a second time with—”

“I don’t want you to try to make up for it, not after all these years. Is that really why you asked me to come back? Because I’ve reached your level of popularity? My money? My body?” Your throat tightens further, and you squint your eyes to hold back your tears. “I will never forgive you, Suguru. I’m no longer the naive girlfriend who waits like a fool for someone who didn’t give a damn about her!”

“I— It wasn’t— Please, let me explain… I still love you as much as I did before, and I know I’ve been unworthy of everything you’ve put up with for me, but—”

You bitterly laugh in his face. “Liar! You’re lying, and you always have, even when you said you loved me! Your babble about what you were and what you are now is just the typical crap an toxic ex says when they want to win someone back. Did I really have a choice to come back to you? Do you think it’s a good method?”

With those words, you turn around and walk away towards the workshop door.

Suguru’s heart screams at him to follow you and beg on his knees for you to listen, but he knows your stubborn temperament. The only words that come from his mouth after his first failure are enough for him to know you’ve heard them, even as you fling the door open and rush out.

He knows you heard him.

“You will always have a choice with me.”

°°°°

“What do you mean, ‘the camera isn’t working’?” Suguru thundered with severity.

The entire group waiting for the final shoot (including you) turns towards the back of the studio to face a visibly agitated Suguru. He is handling the camera in every direction and then turns towards you.

You’re ready, dressed in the latest collection from the luxury brand you’re working with for Suguru’s troupe’s Fashion Week. There’s no problem on your end.

So why is he talking about a camera that isn’t working?

Especially when it’s your turn?

You take a hesitant step towards him, and Manami quickly avoids your questioning gaze, stepping away from her superior.

A few other models follow you, whispering incomprehensible things not far away to your ears, but all you care about is hoping you’ve misunderstood something.

“Find me another camera,” Suguru orders, violently throwing the one he had against a wall. The sound of metal shattering on the floor startles everyone.

Manami follows him out of the studio at a brisk pace. “Wait! Mr. Geto! Did you forget that this isn’t our studio? It’s the only camera we were able to borrow!”

“SO?” Suguru retorts acridly. “She’ll be the only one not photographed while she’s the star of MY troupe?” His tone rises significantly towards Manami. But he doesn’t spare a glance at you, even as everyone listens to their conversation intently. “Don’t forget that tonight the magazines will be prepared, and we won’t be here but at Gojo’s reception!”

All the other models turn to you in unison, watching you with astonishment.

“Too bad, I’m sorry but she won’t be in it!” Manami resigns with an even tone. “We need to leave in an hour, and the reception starts then!”

“Absolutely not! Find me a fucking camera so she’s in the magazine for tomorrow!” With those final words, Suguru opens the studio door and storms out, slamming it shut behind him with a loud bang.

Silence envelops the room, and you find yourself at a loss for words, your lips sealed and your voice stuck in your throat.

Manami sighs and finally turns to you, her face showing sincere regret. “I’m sorry… I know it’s really unfair, but I think you won’t be in the promotional magazine for the brand partnering with us…”

“I—” Your face falls completely, and you look in dismay at the broken camera on the floor from a few minutes ago.

“I’m truly sorry…” Manami murmurs, lowering her head in genuine remorse.

A few hours later, you’ve resigned yourself as well. The luxury brand partnering with Suguru’s agency had lent outfits from their latest collection for advertisement in fashion magazines. The models and the brand were to be highlighted, but this preview was unfortunately ruined by the delay caused by Suguru, who couldn’t complete the photo shoot in his own studio. On the same day — at a time too close to the reception hosted by his friend-rival Satoru Gojo, a stylist of equal renown—the weather and equipment decided to turn against you.

According to Manami, the camera borrowed from a nearby photo studio was sabotaged right after photographing all the other models. So, despite your star model status, you won’t appear in the magazine coming out. The lack of time also prevented photographers, as well as Manami and Suguru, from finding another camera in time, as everything was prepared at the last minute.

Your troupe isn’t the only one participating. Those of other stylists — like Gojo, for example — will also be featured in a fashion magazine with their partner brand and all their models. The shame will fall upon you as the one not included.

And it will be a scandal — you couldn't make it up.

But Nobara has been far more helpful than you would have thought. She learned the news that evening while helping you prepare in your dressing room for Gojo’s reception and was outraged by the situation. Most of all, she was scandalized to learn that someone had attempted to sabotage your photo shoot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Your name rolls off Satoru Gojo’s tongue as he bows respectfully and takes your hand, brushing his pink, thin lips against it.

“Likewise.”

Your raise eyebrow and small, sly smile don’t escape him, and he responds with a laugh that makes your heart flutter. Through his signature round sunglasses — Gojo’s trademark — his cerulean eyes sparkle with mischief. He gives you a wink, then releases your hand and offers you his arm. You take it without hesitation, appreciating the touch of a man like him.

The reception hall is packed with models and stylists; some are Japanese, while others come from different corners of the world, ‘passing through’ before heading back to New York. Indeed, the trip is fast approaching, and this evening is one of the last things you’ll need to face before traveling to the other side of the world.

Chandeliers light up the marble floor with tiny reflections that resemble stars. Tables lined against the walls overflow with dishes and canapés — along with chocolate fountains and desserts. Small groups are gathered in every corner of the room, and the dance floor is filled with couples or partners dancing amidst the exceptionally chic ambiance.

“I’m meeting you in the flesh,” Gojo murmurs, casting a flirtatious glance at you. This man has always had the reputation of being exceedingly handsome and tall. Today, you confirm it.

In his immaculate tuxedo, Satoru Gojo walks with you through the room, maintaining a perfect conversation without awkward pauses or questionable vibes. He is exquisite, charming: everything a woman could dream of.

“Few people get to meet you up close,” you add with a light giggle. You adjust your hold on his arm and look up at him. “I heard you’re also participating in the New York Fashion Week.”

“Indeed.” He takes a glass of champagne and hands it to you. “It would have been a pleasure to work with you, though,” he murmurs with a wry smile.

“I would have loved that.” Your gaze sweeps across the room as you take a sip of champagne. “It’s a shame I went with Mr. Geto.”

“Oh yes, Suguru. My eternal rival. I was surprised by that Twitter post. A model like you… should be among the best, and unfortunately, Suguru is one of them.”

“Do you think so, Mr. Gojo?”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer as he stops near a table with canapés, not far from a window. “Call me Satoru,” he says, looking at you over his sunglasses and taking a mini macaron.

You pick up one as well, and Suguru’s figure passes by you, too quickly for you to understand what’s happening but close enough to notice his gaze on you and Satoru.

“Would you be interested in working on a future collection with me after Fashion Week?” Satoru asks, his attention completely focused on you.

Your blood rushes in your ears as you feel his breath on your lips and you hold back the urge to lean in and kiss him.

“With pleasure, Satoru,” you respond with a smile as playful as his.

“Perfect.” His face lights up, and he is about to say something when he is interrupted by a trio of models approaching you.

“Excuse us, Mr. Gojo,” one of them coos with a sugary voice, batting her eyelashes.

“Can this wait?” He rolls his eyes without any shame. “I’m busy.” He pulls you closer to him with a firmer, more possessive embrace.

Without wasting any time, he takes you out of the reception hall, where a few people are lingering and chatting in a slightly more intimate setting. Thick crimson velvet curtains adorn the various entrances, and Satoru leads you further in.

Your cheeks flush in reaction to the pleasant situation you’re in. Your mind even begins to compare him to Suguru...

“Have I told you how beautiful you are, especially in that dress?” Satoru whispers near your ear, his voice low and warm.

“No,” you murmur, dazed by his hand resting on your lower back, his thumb making gentle circles.

Satoru leans in and his lips brush against yours. “May I?”

You nod, aware of what’s to come as his lips slowly capture yours in a soft, needy kiss. Your lips respond immediately, and Satoru’s two hands join behind your back to guide you into a room that looks like a luxurious bedroom.

Without breaking the kiss with its wet sounds, your back meets the soft surface of a mattress, and you’re already panting. You know that with him, you won’t regret doing anything.

Satoru’s heavy breathing moves away from your pink, swollen lips to approach your bare collarbone and kiss it with those same lips. With his hand gently caressing the back of your thigh, which you lift and drape around his waist, Satoru uses his nimble fingers to slide down the thin strap of your dress. Your chest rises and falls with the sensual tension descending upon you. Your fingers help him lower your dress, first revealing your bare breasts, and a flush colors your face.

“Beautiful, sweetheart,” he purrs in your ear, taking pleasure in depositing a line of soft, affectionate kisses along your neck and down to your chest. Satoru stretches his lips into a smile against your skin and lightly touches the swell of your breasts. He takes one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

A moan escapes you, and you arch your hips to rub against him desperately. His bulge becomes more prominent and presses against your own underwear, adding friction that makes your core sensitive. “Satoru…” you pant softly, stroking his snow-white hair as he lavishes your breasts with wet kisses. “More…”

He grins and returns to your lips, whispering “Adorable…” while sliding your dress down further.

But the door to the room suddenly opens, revealing a frozen Suguru standing before the scene. You and Satoru immediately turn your heads toward the intruder and pull away from each other abruptly.

But it’s already too late, as neither of you have time to say a word before Suguru turns and leaves as quickly as he arrived, his face as pale as a sheet.

An unusual pang tightens in your chest, and you sit up from the bed, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. But why? Why feel this way?

You sigh, and Satoru shakes his head. “He won’t say anything,” he reassures you, reaching out a hand to stroke your cheek.

You don’t push him away, but he understands that you wouldn’t want to go any further with him tonight.

°°°°

“Here… Lift your chin…” Suguru takes a photo with a sharp click. “Perfect…” he murmurs to himself, his tone filled with admiration.

Sitting on the floor of Suguru’s photography studio in yet another outfit from the luxury brand partner, you give him a profile shot, your chin lifted in a dreamlike expression of devotion. For another photo, you lie on your side, your eyes fixed directly on the lens.

Suguru, for his part, doesn’t hesitate to give his best effort to capture the most beautiful photos he’s ever taken in his career. He insisted on handling it personally — despite what happened less than two days ago at Satoru’s reception. He even came up with an idea to make up for the consequences of his delay with the magazine published for all the participating Fashion Week troupes in New York. The scandal over your absence, despite being one of the featured models, had shaken most social media, and indeed, enough for Suguru to come up with a plan that would do justice to you.

What better way than to discuss with the luxury brand partner to release an entire magazine featuring you as the sole model? You would showcase the clothes that weren’t worn due to the lack of time. The success and attention would be all focused on you — spotlights fixed on you.

Because you deserve it.

No matter how long it takes Suguru.

He vowed to do everything to make amends.

So that’s why you find yourself alone in the studio with him, posing in outfits that shake him so much that he’s suggested taking a break twice to calm his trembling hands.

Two days later, the magazine is finally out, with you as the star, once again shaking up social media and causing a wave of appreciation from fans. At your finest, every page shows only you.

You, the heart’s desire of Suguru Geto.

“Have you seen the reactions?” Suguru asks as he approaches you while you’re busy admiring the sky and the skyscrapers from one of the agency’s balconies. Suguru slides the glass door closed and joins you. “Am I bothering you?”

You sigh.

“Come on, at least thank me for doing such a good job. You look stunning in all the photos.” He has a smirk and nudges you in the ribs as he leans his forearms on the glass railing. “And you always have been.”

You give a subtle smile but don’t immediately respond. You leave a small silence between the two of you. For the first time in years, Suguru’s presence doesn’t bother you as much.

“Thanks, I suppose,” you murmur. Without looking at him, you continue, “It’s nice of you to do this.”

“I did it for you,” Suguru breathes, his heart tight.

You nod. Lately, it feels like you don’t quite know how to react. All these compliments, the fact that he hasn’t changed his behavior after catching you with Satoru (he’s even become even more gentle)... It’s a lot to take in.

You eventually clear your throat. “Well, I think—”

“Wait.” He turns his head toward you. “Please.”

The note of pleading is the only detail that brings your feet back to the railing.

He lets a light silence linger, not saying a word. A breeze brushes both your faces, like cool water on a tired face.

Perhaps it’s this that makes Suguru speak up, saying your name.

“You’ve become someone since then,” he whispers with a faint smile. “I’m proud of you.” And oh, how you wish you could erase the blush spreading across your cheeks! “I don’t want to pretend like nothing happened anymore.” He turns fully toward you, the wind whipping his long raven hair and his obsidian eyes scrutinizing you. “I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve never forgotten you, actually.”

His sudden declaration catches you off guard. Why is he saying this? You already knew it. And your behavior towards him gives an unspoken response. You simply turn your head towards him without moving your body, with a forced nonchalance. He mustn’t see what he still evokes in you after all these years.

“Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. I know I hurt you, and coming back now is probably not the best way — especially after I pushed you away.” He takes a step towards you. “And I want to win you back.” You prepare to retort, eyes narrowing, but he cuts you off immediately. “I know. And it’s not because you’ve become a famous model. Far from it.”

He repeats your name once again.

But this time, his tone is different.

His voice returns to what it was so long ago. The voice he used to whisper in your ear in bed, when you were standing in a supermarket line, and on the phone.

The thorny brambles of your heart wrap painfully around you, reminding you of what he became later.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Your lips press together, and you start to pull away from the glass railing.

“Give me a second chance, I—”

“No. There’s no point.”

Your steps move closer to the glass door, but Suguru grabs your hand.

“Please, let me at least explain—”

And your hand tears away from his grasp with an insensitivity hidden beneath its opposite in your heart. “We were perfect, Geto. Incredibly perfect. But now, I really wonder if you ever truly loved me,” you admit without any warmth.

“I did, and I still—”

“No. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been increasingly distant, avoiding our dates as your career took up more and more of your life.” You take a trembling breath meant to chase away the tears from your eyes, but it’s in vain. Your voice quivers. “At least you didn’t give up on your dreams for someone. Even less for love. And for a love that only brought you pain after it left you…”

“Love,” Suguru pleads in a heart-wrenching whisper. He takes another step towards you, arms outstretched, but you shake your head.

“But at least, I can thank you for what I’ve become today. I’ve become the person that little me always dreamed of being. Thanks to your departure from my life.”

The words slap and scratch him violently.

You turn on your heels and open the glass door, casting one last glance back at him, tears streaming down your face, smearing your mascara.

“So don’t ruin it all.”

°°°°

As scheduled, the private jet successfully dropped Suguru’s entire troupe at a New York airport less than a week before Fashion Week, where a luxurious van awaited your arrival. As soon as you stepped inside, fuchsia purple LEDs assaulted your eyes, and a multitude of leather seats were lined against the vehicle’s walls. At the very back, there was a mini-bar stocked with alcoholic beverages and spaces near the seats featuring multifunctional drawers: a retractable coffee machine, a selection of accessories and makeup products, as well as blankets, sleep masks, and other handy items. Near the driver, who greeted the troupe with a nod, a tablet fixed to the wall allowed you to change the background music at will.

Without delay, everyone rushed to the seats and chatted merrily over drinks and snacks as the journey finally began. All the models’ assistants were allowed to join the trip, which meant you found yourself laughing with Nobara about the different shades of blush provided in one of the drawers.

She took out her phone and suggested doing an Instagram story, which you accepted without hesitation. You were soon joined by the others, and a group photo was taken by Suguru. To your great surprise, you participated with a small pose. It was also posted on Suguru’s agency’s Instagram, and Nobara quickly showed you the reactions. For the past three weeks, she has almost been gushing on your behalf over the wave of positive responses you received following your appearance in the latest leading fashion magazine in the United States — even despite the success that Satoru Gojo’s own troupe has also enjoyed.

But it has also been three weeks since you last spoke to Suguru following your conversation with him. Throughout the journey to the hotel — where you will stay with your troupe for the rest of Fashion Week until its end — you couldn’t help but have unintentional eye contact. Fortunately for you, he didn’t make any attempts, and somehow, you would have liked to have Suguru in your life once more — just one last time.

But your bitter past with him still haunts your dreams, so that’s out of the question.

A few hours later, the van drops the troupe off in front of the famous hotel, but to everyone’s great surprise, a crowd is packed around the entrance. Security is pushing back some people protesting that they’ve been queuing for hours, and Suguru steps outside to observe what’s happening.

“They were right. The hotel is packed.” Of course, all due to Fashion Week taking place just a few kilometers away. Celebrities, high society, and tourists alike, the gigantic hotel promises not to be easy for the model troupe and Suguru himself. He signals the driver, who contacts security agents and bodyguards via his walkie-talkie to approach the van so that the troupe can either queue or simply navigate through the crowd.

So, with further delays and heightened security, a decision was made regarding the group: it was divided into several smaller groups so everyone could pass without issues. Some models have already gone to the reception and are enjoying their rooms, while you find yourself paired with…

…Suguru.

And last in line.

Neither of you speaks a word, and you are engrossed in your phone, trying your best to ignore him. On the other side, your assistant with ginger hair, Nobara, has asked if it bothers you that she takes a trip to do some shopping in New York— a rare opportunity for the young woman. How could you refuse her? How could you say that you don’t want to be alone with Suguru, even if it’s for the sake of organization? Being stuck in a line with him is uncomfortable?

You finally sigh in relief when your turn comes after forty minutes of waiting while other customers check in.

Bodyguards step aside, both of your luggage in their arms, waiting for a word from you.

The receptionist clears her throat and squints at the screen of his computer. “I apologize, but... I think there’s a reservation issue with your rooms.”

“What do you mean?” Suguru and you ask in unison.

“Um... There’s only one room reserved for both of you.”

The response hits your ears like thunder. You blink, the embarrassment of the situation rising to your cheeks. You don’t even dare to glance at Suguru. “Then book me another room,” you request in a measured tone.

The receptionist discreetly elbows her colleague, who looks up at you. “I— Miss, you are the last guest with Mr. Geto for the coming weeks, and there are no more rooms available…”

For the next five minutes, you try every possible way to avoid being alone in a single room with Suguru. But it’s in vain, as you end up in the infamous room with the receptionists offering a myriad of apologies, blaming their oversight regarding the reservation.

In the room, you stand, boiling with anger as the bodyguards set down your luggage and leave. One of the women tries to divert your attention from your ready-to-explode gaze by pointing out an undisturbed sofa — of course — where one of you might sleep.

But a single glance is enough to see that even your own feet wouldn’t rest on it. The receptionists leave the room in their little heels, and you sit on the firm sofa. You grimace and massage your temples while Suguru has not said a word since entering the room.

He takes a few steps towards the bed and places a hand on the mattress, so soft and comfortable that his fingers almost sink into it. “You can take the bed if you want,” Suguru offers with a calm and kindness that makes you grit your teeth. “I can take the sofa.”

Your body is in such turmoil that if you stay one more second in the room with him, you might explode — literally. So, you don’t respond and rush to your luggage, driven by the need for space. You pull out some comfortable clothes and retreat to the bathroom.

A small sigh of exasperation from the main room still reaches your ears.

You lock yourself in and collapse on the floor, groaning with frustration.

Damn it.

Why does this only happen to you?

If a shower seems to have calmed your nerves a bit, you would have preferred not to have decided to shower right away because, barely dressed in a loose t-shirt and pajama shorts, hotel staff members are gathered around the sofa and start carrying it out of the room.

In shock at the realization of the situation, you call out to them. “Hey! We need that sofa!”

One of them turns his head towards you nonchalantly. “There’s been another reservation issue. We need this sofa for others in a much more urgent situation than yours, miss.” He adjusts his hat as a gesture of apology and leaves the room as if nothing happened, taking with him the only thing that provided a slim chance of escape — however slim — to avoid Suguru.

Suguru stands there, arms hanging, too stunned by what’s happening to react. He blinks several times without saying a word.

This is all just a nightmare.

°°°°

“I’m not going to break my back sleeping on the floor, and neither will you. Or is that what you want?” Suguru nearly barks as he slips under the covers.

“There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you!” you retort in the same tone, arms crossed over your chest.

“Stop being so prissy for two minutes, will you? It’s not like we haven’t done this thousands of times before.” He rolls his eyes and finally lies down.

The comment hits your chest like a sharp arrow. The already horrifically awkward situation combined with Suguru’s reasonable demeanor, which only seems to make things worse, makes you look simply ridiculous for not cooperating out of pride.

So, you find yourself under the covers, forcing as much space as possible between you and Suguru, trying to stay as far away as you can. Both of you have turned your backs to each other, nerves too frayed to say anything without igniting yet another argument.

But Suguru closes his eyes with a smile on his lips that night, noting in the back of his mind to thank Nobara as soon as he has the chance for agreeing to his ridiculous plan of deliberately booking a single room for both of you.

°°°°

That night, your sleep is much more restless than usual. You have sleep troubles, but this night they seem to intensify despite your peaceful breathing, which Suguru uses as a lullaby to fall asleep. You toss and turn from time to time, with your leg carelessly hanging out of the bed or an arm too close to him. A dangerous position where you might easily slip off and fall.

When Suguru feels the sheets pulling away from him as he’s about to fall asleep, he turns around and catches you just before you fall. With a pounding heart, he pulls you a little closer to him and finally lets you go.

Unaware in your sleep, you roll towards him and your fingers cling almost desperately to his t-shirt. He freezes and doesn’t dare move, hoping you won’t wake up so he can extricate himself from the embrace you’ve claimed. Your arms drape around his shoulders and your legs seek to wrap around him like a koala.

“Sugu…” you murmur in your sleep. Your face contorts into a small frown.

His nickname is a purr to him. He’s tempted to push you away, but your slight frown, seeking comfort, makes him relent, and he holds you completely in his arms. Your nose nestles into the crook of his neck and you hum before letting out a small snore.

Maybe Suguru is dreaming — amidst the dim light of the room and your two blurred bodies. Nevertheless, he rocks you gently in his arms, holding the most precious thing to him close.

°°°°

Your dream continues where you’re alone, nestled in your bed — yes, it must be that. Finding yourself in the same bed as your ex is just a nightmare.

Or maybe a dream.

Warm, sweet whispers envelop you in a comforting embrace.

“Forgive me, love. I’m sorry… I love you so much.”

These distant words soothe you enough when your sleep is half-awake, with Suguru’s body and voice surrounding you. You should push him away, but everything around you feels so dreamlike. So why not give in for once when you can’t in real life? After all, it’s just a dream for one night.

Nothing can happen to you.

Especially at a moment when your heart wants to accept these pleading whispers of forgiveness that will probably never happen in real life.

°°°°

A warm ray of sunlight tickles your cheek, and you hum as you bury your head against something firm and comfortable that envelops you. Arms rub your back, and you smile, deciding to give in to the warm embrace. Something places a gentle kiss on your temple, encouraging you to stay in bed a little longer.

Before a knock at the door jolts you from your comfort.

Nobara’s voice is heard from the other side. “Are you awake?” she asks out loud. “Almost everyone is already ready!”

You open your eyes at the same time as Suguru, and your noses almost touch. It’s a close call not to scream and almost jump out of your spot. Dazed and still groggy from sleep, neither of you says a word, only muttering a few curses about the alarm not going off.

You rush to do your makeup and put on your outfit, as by 11 a.m., at the very place where the last preparations for the show will be made, hundreds of fans, journalists, and paparazzi will be lined up behind barriers or security ropes, shouting for autographs or even a smile. So there’s no time to waste; you need to cover your tomato-red complexion with foundation.

Downstairs in the hotel, the rest of the crew is waiting for both of you, and others arrive at the last minute — some even with their poodles. To your great relief, no one seems to suspect anything about Suguru, whom you carefully avoid even after arriving at the Fashion Week preparation area.

As you step out of the black sedan, piercing fan screams ring out, eagerly waiting for you to approach them: banners with names written in capital letters, notebooks, and hands outstretched almost desperately.

On the red carpet and under the bright morning sun, female fans call out your name, and you turn with a smile to approach them behind the security barrier. You spend about ten minutes taking selfies and signing autographs with the rest of the crew until one girl, after you’ve signed her autograph, speaks to you again. “It’s incredible that you’re working with Suguru Geto! I never thought I’d see this day, so I’ll be here to watch you walk the runway!” she exclaims with stars in her eyes.

Your smile freezes at the mention of Suguru, as you’re constantly reminded that no one but you and Suguru know what happened between you two. You swallow and regain your composure. “Oh, honey, you’re adorable. I’m glad you’re coming. I hope we’ll run into each other again.” You then give her a final wink and rejoin your group.

Nobara catches up with you a few minutes later in your dressing room with a smile and quietly closes the door. You collapse onto a couch and sigh, hiding your face in your hands.

°°°°

“You’ve measured me before.”

“I lost them.”

“Liar.”

Suguru lets out a small laugh and grabs his measuring tape before approaching you. “It’s just my job, love.”

“You’re playing around,” you accuse with a pout, and he kneels in front of you to measure your legs and waist.

His movements are precise, slow, meticulous, and attentive. Even his gaze doesn’t fall inappropriately on you, a look of respect filling his entire being, guiding him gently with that eternal mischievous smile that reminds you of Satoru’s.

“Don’t give me that pout, now,” Suguru whispers as he stands up with a sigh.

Today, he’s wearing a simple white shirt under a pair of black pants and a matching blazer — perfectly tailored, of course. An unfair perfection. Among all the exes you could have had in your life, it had to be Suguru Geto—the man with a beauty almost impossible to rival, and who clearly shows a refusal to let you go. And the worst is the still-fresh memory from the night before with the image of a half-asleep Suguru against you — you in his arms. If you loathe yourself for what happened, why does his embrace comfort you so much? If you truly hate Suguru, why do you show such weak resistance to both his gentlemanly behavior and his irresistible charm?

“And there we go,” Suguru announces softly with his notepad in hand. “Lovely as always,” he adds with his eternal smile. “Hey!” You punch him in the bicep, and he steps back, laughing.

“Don’t mess with me,” you grumble, still pouting.

When was the last time this kind of situation happened?

When you two were still together.

And is forgiving him a good idea after all?

“I wasn’t messing with you, love,” Suguru replies quietly. He locks his eyes with yours to capture all your attention. “You’ve always been beautiful. And that will never change, even if you turn into a slug.” He grins at your comical look of disgust.

"A slug? You’d still choose me even if I were a slug?" you repeat, not convinced at all by his promises.

Suguru scoffs and moves closer, facing you directly. “No matter what you are in any lifetime, it will always be you that I choose, again and again.” He slowly lifts his hand and places it on your cheek. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, and your guard weakens. His words, spoken with sincere tone, float like clouds in the dressing room-turned-sewing workshop.

You remain as vulnerable with Suguru Geto — despite years of building a fortress to avoid falling back into the state you were in years ago. Yet, you are in a massive denial, giving a semblance of change in your life. You haven’t erased all feelings for Suguru. You’ve simply buried them in a corner of your heart and forgotten where—neglecting the risk they might resurface someday.

You look up at him, your lower lip trembling. “Then why didn’t you in this one?”

The question seems to catch him off guard, as his lips part and an equally vulnerable look appears on his face. He’s about to respond when someone knocks on the door.

“Mr. Geto? Are you finished?” Manami’s voice calls from the other side, sounding slightly concerned.

You both immediately step away from each other, and the tension between you dissipates, replaced by the usual coldness.

Suguru clears his throat, runs a tired hand over his face, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Uh, yeah, yeah. You can come in, Manami.”

°°°°

Less than two hours before the main moment, you are practicing breathing exercises to calm the stress of a runway show. You’re wearing one of the luxurious outfits designed by Suguru himself, and if that alone isn’t overwhelming enough, an invisible vise is tightening around your chest, making your breathing heavy and your lungs congested.

You grimace at the sensation and groan as your heart beats more erratically than expected, and tremors run through your limbs. You can’t have a panic attack now.

No.

Not when Nobara isn’t by your side to help you relax.

Staying locked in a stuffy dressing room won’t help, but the very idea of stepping outside paralyzes you. You need to wait patiently for the makeup artists to finalize your look, and it only makes you more impatient and on edge.

Someone knocks at your door and asks to enter.

Suguru.

You open your mouth to utter even a sound, but anxiety wraps around your throat and chokes you. You gasp for air, your hands sweaty and cold, slipping from the back of the chair you’re clinging to, and you collapse to the floor.

The noise is enough for the door to burst open, and Suguru rushes in, dropping to one knee and taking you into his arms.

“Love, what’s happening?” Suguru murmurs as you cling to him as if your life depends on it.

The panic attack gradually overwhelms you, and you start crying in front of him. Thank God your face is only covered with skincare, but tears are streaming down your cheeks, mingling with your grimace and your difficulty breathing.

“I…” Then a hiccup takes over. You try to inhale, but as soon as your lungs fill, the air cuts off and doesn’t pass through. You keep trying, but all you manage is to cry without stopping.

Suguru frowns. “You… Wait.” He slides one arm under your knees and back to lift you easily and place you on a sofa. “It’s going to be okay, my love… Everything will be fine… Do the same thing I do.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes to prevent the blurred vision from making it even harder to see Suguru helping you. He places his hand on his chest and does the same for you. “I’ll count to three and you breathe in very slowly, okay? Same for exhaling,” he murmurs with all tenderness and patience. His chest rises slowly in sync after he counts to three. The air flows more smoothly now. Encouraged by this, he smiles and holds his breath. He nods for you to do the same, intertwining your fingers with his and exhaling at the same slow pace. The icy air leaves your lungs at the same time as your racing heartbeats.

For the next five minutes, a silence punctuated by controlled, rhythmic breathing fills the dressing room. You eventually manage to regain a normal breath and quell your panic attack, leaving only a few residual hiccups.

Suguru leans toward you and kisses your sweaty forehead. With your still-trembling arms, you grip his to keep him close and draw him against you, the tip of his nose brushing against your neck. The unexpected action makes him freeze, and up close, you can see goosebumps spreading over his skin. With hesitant movements towards each other, you both hold each other gently in a comforting embrace.

“Suguru…” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the recent panic attack. You take the opportunity to bury your head in the crook of his neck.

He immediately welcomes your touch and affectionately kisses your cheek. “I love you, love. Do you feel better?”

His affirmation reaches your heart so strongly that, once again, tears well up and you force yourself to blink them away. Suguru notices and a worried crease forms between his eyebrows. For a moment, his chest against yours allows you to feel his racing heart. “You—”

“I’m better,” you interrupt weakly. “Thank you…”

He sighs in relief and gently caresses your hair absentmindedly. His fingers weave skillfully through your strands, bringing back a memory that hits you hard: him comforting you for various reasons when you were together, that same hand resting and caressing the same spot on your head. So for once in years, you let yourself indulge in this nostalgic feeling without pushing it away.

However, you can’t prevent a burning question from crossing your lips. “You love me?”

Suguru reacts immediately. He carefully pulls away from you and helps you sit up on the sofa, wiping the dried tears from your beautiful cheeks. He smiles at your flushed face and bloodshot eyes. “Of course I love you. I’ve told you. I’m sorry, and even if you don’t accept it, I’ll do everything to make you forgive me.” He kneels in front of you. “I didn’t want to break up with you because it would have broken my heart, so when I saw that my career was starting to affect our relationship and I couldn’t take care of you as you deserved, I thought it would hurt less if I let you detach from me.” His shoulders shake with a sigh. “Forgive me, my love. I want to make amends and—”

“But why a second chance when the first one didn’t work?”

“Because we’re too stubborn, love.”

His words, spoken with such sincerity, reach your heart directly.

You take his face in your hands and press your lips against his. Suguru gasps slightly in surprise but quickly follows your lead, his hesitant hands sliding to your waist to deepen the contact.

Fuck.

How he missed you…

With every kiss, you reclaim Suguru’s lips as if one moment without them would take away your life. They are so soft and warm, as alluring as they are addictive, making it almost impossible for your body to pull away from him. It’s only when you feel that time seems to be passing a bit too quickly that you finally pull away from him.

“I…” A semi-horrified expression pulls at your face as you’ve just initiated a kiss with your ex—the one you’ve been avoiding for months. You shake your head and back away, stammering, “Sorry… That was a mistake, I—”

Suguru utters your name in a pleading tone. “Please… I’m begging you. Give me another chance. I only need one word. One word, and I’ll stay. One word, and I’ll leave and never come back to your life.”

“You…” If you’ve never been short of sharp retorts for Suguru, today is a new experience.

One word from you, and Suguru will accept your choice. For any other ex you might have had, you wouldn’t have even attempted to participate or do anything that involved them. But with Suguru…

“S-Stay…” you murmur in a broken voice, almost throwing yourself into his arms. He wraps you in his embrace and rocks you, his breath quick. “Stay, Suguru…” You break down, tears returning with a vengeance, flooding your face.

“I love you, sweetheart. Forgive me…” And he continues to repeat these words until someone else knocks on the door.

He prepares to pull away, but you hold him back, not wanting him to leave you once more. With a swift move, he crouches and rests his forehead against yours. “I have to go. You’re going to do great. I have no doubt, and you have no reason not to, understood?” His breath, as warm as his hands around your head, brushes your nose, and you sniffle one last time, nodding. “You’ll be perfect. I’ll watch and wait for you at the show. You’re going to shine.”

°°°°

The lights in the hall dim, plunging the audience into darkness. A bright spotlight illuminates the runway as the music begins to resonate throughout the fashion studio, amplified by the speakers.

“Here we go… In three… two… one…” Manami makes a frantic arm gesture to signal the lineup of models to step onto the runway.

The first model makes her entrance, wearing a spectacular outfit that instantly captivates the audience, with audible “oooohs!” reaching even backstage where you await your turn with a suffocating pressure. You are among the last to walk, but the distinct sound of heels clicking in rhythm with your heartbeat still reaches your ears.

But there is no room for panic now that you no longer carry the weight of your past relationship with Suguru.

He will be there to admire and reassure you from afar.

Manami gives a final signal and your lineup thins, giving you the space needed to step onto the stage.

The outfits parade down the runway, each one more impressive than the last. The theme of the collection is clear: dark silhouettes adorned with sequins and stars, reminiscent of a starry night sky. Your own outfit, the centerpiece of the collection, is bound to captivate the awed spectators. The black, sparkling dress catches the light with every step, creating an illusion of a moving firmament. Murmurs of admiration fill the room first, followed by camera clicks and cheers as you appear at the first quarter of the runway.

Taking a deep breath, your heels glide as elegantly as ever down the runway. One foot in front of the other, the sole firmly planted but almost silently advancing on the runway, chin up, and a neutral expression on your face; if anyone had never heard of your modeling career, your impression answers immediately.

Your hips sway slightly from side to side in the same entrancing rhythm as the powerful beat of the music, giving an unmatched grace to your walk. Reaching the end of the runway, your gaze falls on the front row where recognizable men have their eyes fixed on you, feeling the palpable energy of the room.

The scene lasts only a second, but it feels like an eternity.

Satoru Gojo, with a smirk, hands in the pockets of his dark stylist suit, stands with his legs spread in a posture highly unflattering for a personality like his. But then again, he exudes a carefree attitude, so who would be shocked? You manage to keep your mouth from stretching into a smile thanks to Suguru Geto, whose eyes are glued to you. His obsidian irises shine with admiration, professionalism, and also pride. He gives you a knowing wink that sends a warm, pleasant wave through every corner of your abdomen.

You snap out of your trance and pause, striking an elegant pose under the camera flashes before gracefully turning around. The shimmering fabric of your dress captures the lights with every movement, creating a shower of stars around you.

As you return backstage, the music shifts, signaling the grand finale. The crowd is buzzing, applauding enthusiastically as the spotlights sweep across the stage to accentuate the dramatic effect of the starry collection. The show comes to an end several minutes later, and you notice the applause intensifying. Suguru seems to have taken the stage and begun speaking — his voice reaching every ear — and you listen intently near your pairs.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. This collection has been a true labor of love, and I am honored to share it with you. Thank you also to all the wonderful people who made this possible, especially our incredible models,” Suguru declares, a wave of shared pride resonating through his speech.

The applause erupts once more, louder than ever.

°°°°

“Really?” you murmur softly, the tone as warm as Suguru’s hand on your hip. “If I did so well in the show, don’t I deserve a reward?”

He kneels in front of you, sliding his large hands along your thighs. “So beautiful, so magnificent…” Suguru continues to whisper as if in a prayer. “I love you… Ruin me… Use me and hurt me, love…” he pleads before placing a long, sweet kiss on your inner thigh.

The effect sends waves of goosebumps across your body, and desire burns in your eyes as you lower them to your desperate lover.

What better place to want to fuck your ex than during a festive reception hosted by Satoru Gojo, in one of the luxurious corridors of his many mansions? The same heavy, thick, velvet burgundy curtains brush against your back as he nuzzles between your legs like a little boy.

The gesture might seem funny and cute, but not when he slides his head under your evening dress and presses his nose against your panties. You gasp in surprise and place your hands on his head. “Sugu… Not here…” you whisper, alarmed.

He grumbles like a displeased child, the vibration of his voice against your core increasing your sensitivity. “You— Ah…” you moan as he plants a kiss on your already swollen clit.

“I love you, sweetheart… I love you so much…” Suguru keeps repeating these words that make you melt. He shifts your underwear with his index finger, finally gaining access to your core. He starts with a chaste kiss on your damp folds and hums in contentment, as he catches the first drop of your juices. “Tastes s’good, baby…”

Your moans intensify under his agile tongue as it licks and laps at your swollen, wet folds. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, forcing you to gasp. “Suguru…” You groan as he focuses on your throbbing bundle of nerves this time. He gently sucks on it, coaxing more juices from you, and this has the effect of drawing whimpers from your lips. If you were already struggling like mad to keep quiet, Suguru always loves to tease you and he gently inserts a finger into you. Your walls clench around it as if afraid he might pull it out. Unfortunately, pleasure comes far too quickly. With only a few long, slow thrusts inside you, your fingers find their way into his dark strands. “I’m going to—”

“Cum for me, my love,” he murmurs between flicks of his tongue.

You pray that no one can see or hear you, letting the knot in your stomach that was holding back your orgasm finally release. It bursts onto Suguru’s mouth, who doesn’t waste a single second in collecting your juices until the last drop, all while you moan in pleasure.

He finally pulls his hands and head from under your dress, panting in the same ragged rhythm as you, a satisfied smile on his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs for the umpteenth time.

A slightly exhausted smile from the intense sensation lights up your face, and before you can even respond, Suguru scoops you into his arms and nearly runs to one of the luxurious bedrooms in the Gojo mansion.

He locks the door and gently lays you on the mattress. Within seconds, you take charge, removing Suguru’s pants and teasing his bulge with the tips of your fingers. You smile mischievously and giggle.

Suguru shivers at your touch and props himself up on his elbows, weak as he is for you. “Sweetheart—” But you catch him off guard by pulling down his boxer, exposing his twitching erection. “Oh God…” He almost rolls his eyes as your hand administers a few gentle strokes. “I love you… I love you… I love you… I love you…” he repeats in a plea in the dim light of the room.

Your fingers wrap around his base as you lower your head just to kiss his sensitive, reddened tip. “What, baby? Is it too much for you? You’re already so hard f’me…” And he doesn’t have time to protest as you go slowly, for he might not last. He smiles slyly as you lick the bead of pre-cum that escapes his length.

“Damn, princess… I’m not gonna last…” he hisses, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. He lets out a sigh, his muscles tensing under your hands. You run a thick band with the flat of your tongue along his dick, and he grits his teeth. “Tease…”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Let’s see about that…” Your lips part around him, taking him fully into your mouth. As soon as his tip hits the back of your throat, he lets out a groan. “Sorry…”

Your hands slip to graze his balls and caress his thighs. With a motion of your head, you suck him, your tongue swirling around his tip and veins. “Love, I—” And with a twitch of his cock, he signals that he’s about to cum. He shudders and groans, moaning your name. His cheeks flush, and you take the opportunity to tease him. He gives in and lets his release paint your mouth white. Without wasting any time, you swallow the warm substance and pull his cock from your mouth, a string of saliva mixed with his cum linking your lips to him.. The sight of your lover in a messy, submissive state sends a shiver down your own spine.

He regains his breath, rising onto his knees, unuttons his white shirt, and tosses it into a corner at the foot of the bed. Suguru’s hands settle on your hips, pulling at the fabric to undress you completely. Your panties are just as damp as when he ate you out. Your bra quickly joins his discarded clothing, and he seals his lips with yours as if it’s the last thing he needs to do in his life. He gently flips you onto your back on the bed.

Your hands move sensually across his chest to settle on his shoulders, maintaining a grip, while Suguru’s hands grasp the back of your thighs and slowly detach his lips to press them against the side of your neck where your pulse races. He marks a hickey in that exact spot and revels in the moan you produce.

“Suguru, please… I need you…” you plead into his ear, you aching clit grazing his hard cock, and he clenches his jaw to avoid holding you too tightly in his arms. Hasn’t he dreamed for years of having you like this, in his arms, begging him to please you?

“Anthing for my princess,” he coos, his lips curling. Gently, he wraps your legs around his waist and maintains eye contact with you. One of his hands grabs his dick and teases your needy cunt with the tip to collect droplets of your wetness. “Still so wet?” Then your blush is enough to make him burst into laughter. You pout, and he purrs. “Awww… I’m going to give you what you want…”

With utmost care, his tip parts your folds and slowly pushes into you, finding its way deep inside your hot, dripping pussy. Breathing between his teeth, Suguru closes his eyes for a moment and hisses. “Damn, you’re so fucking tight…” He pants for a few seconds before resuming his movements as you moan for him to go further. “Fuck, princess… taking me so well… Like you were made for me since start…”

“Suguru…” You moan, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. The pressure his cock exerts makes it hard for your pussy not to react and tighten with each of his slow thrusts as you adjust. “That’s it, my love… You’re doing so well…” He whispers in your ear. His hands grip your hips, helping you find the right space for both of you as he sinks into you, your pretty walls clenching around him deliciously. He lets out a whimper of your name and hits that sweet spot deep inside, making you twitch beneath him.

"Again… Please… Sugu—” But another sound of pleasure escapes you as he slowly increases his pace inside you. His length twitches between your gummy, tight walls. “So deep… So good…” you murmur with a pleasure-filled wince. “I love you… I love you…”

Words hit Suguru like a punch to the stomach, and he almost has tears in his eyes. He doesn’t stop bucking his hips into you and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck. “Baby…” you whisper, your fingers tangled in his hair, pleasure all for you now. He nods, and his hand snakes to your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Suguru… I’m close…” you squeal as he continues to pound into you until you see stars and your cunt contracts around his length, your toes curling.

His seed paints your walls white, a warm, gentle sensation spreading through your lower abdomen, Suguru groaning into your neck, his teeth biting into the flesh of your trapezius. He slightly lifts his head, panting heavily, and presses his lips to your ear. “I don’t want to see you on anyone else’s arm, okay? Not even Satoru.”

You nod and giggle, trying to catch your breath, your eyelids closed and exhausted from the aftermath of intense pleasure. “Jealous, hmm?”

“Yes. And very possessive, love,” he affirms in a strained voice. “Will you forgive me?” he adds with a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. He withdraws from you and lies down beside you, attentive to any signs of discomfort.

“For a long time, Suguru,” you affirm, yawning.

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Can I ask since when?”

“Since the hotel.”

Suguru buries his head between your bare breasts and closes his eyes with a sigh. “I see. I owe that to Nobara. What do you think would make her happy?” he asks in a casual tone.

Suddenly, it’s like gears are turning in your brain, and your fingers, which were caressing his hair moments ago, freeze.

“WHAT?”

And Suguru’s laughter echoes throughout the room.

a/n: finally! i'm relieved that i've finished this fic (promised from far months now...) well, i hope you'll enjoy it! <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @alwaysfreakingout @mutsu422 @lymsfm

[zhongrin]

honey, can you.… commit a crime for me?

© zhongrin | 2024  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, childe, kaeya, diluc, al haitham, tighnari, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, crack, fluff

✼ a/n ┈ what even are these hsdlkfjlskjdf kinda wanna create a yandere version of this /is bonked

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli immediately tries to find the core of the problem. “what is it that troubles you, dearest? perhaps we can find a more peaceful solution? violence is not always the answer. this, i know from all the 6000 years i’ve lived—” aaaand there he goes on his lecture. if your goal was to get him to give you a preaching of a lifetime, well, congratulations, you’ve done it. sit back and relax, brew some tea, maybe get some snacks, because you’ll be here for a while.

al haitham, surprisingly, actually humors you. only because he knows you were teasing him and this is his way of teasing you back, but you’ll probably end up staring at him in confusion because he looks dead serious while doing so. “what an interesting offer. i’ll have to ask you to submit a formal proposal through your special submission channel. make sure you have several backup plans in case of emergencies. have it on my desk by tomorrow afternoon, the latest.”

wriothesley straight up denies you with a roll of his eyes. he knows you’re joking, and honestly speaking he would stain his hands with blood for you, but as much as he loves you, he really didn’t want you to end up at the fortress while under a sentence. although theoretically he could pull some strings to make sure you spent your sentence peacefully if that scenario ever happened, the fact was that such records will follow you for the rest of your life, and he wants you to stay in the sunlight. “what did i always tell you? don’t break the law... but if you really want to, how about you try to steal my breath away with a kiss?”

neuvillette stops writing his reports immediately, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “my dear, come sit, let us converse.” he holds your hand and proceeds to rope you into a heart-to-heart talk. are you being harassed by someone? are you being threatened? the cup of water rippled erratically as he waited for you to answer those particular questions. is there something he could do to help that wouldn’t make either of you getting dragged into a court trial? can he— …. yeah, someone save him, he totally thinks that you’re serious.

childe agrees immediately. is that even a question? “sure! who do you need me to kill?” he asks, with his signature wide boyish grin plastered onto his face and his hand twitching to reach for his hydro blade. look. it’s your ajax. your (man)childe. your tartaglia. i bet you liked his murderous tendencies anyway. are you even surprised?

kaeya makes it a point to gasp and looking like a maiden who caught the sight of two lovers rendezvousing in the garden. when he notices you not buying his act, however, he laughs and switches gear into a teasing smile, “oh? was me stealing your heart not enough?”

diluc stares at you blankly, one eyebrow raised, his voice monotonous — if you hadn’t known how to read his minuscule reactions, you would have missed the spark of mirth dancing in his eyes; a trace of the young ‘luc buried deep inside the scarred heart of a charred phoenix, “…. hmph. did kaeya put you up to this?”

tighnari hums nonchalantly and gives you a knowing smirk, his tail swishing mischievously behind him, “perfect. i do have a rare specimen i’d like to plant. i’m sure it’ll benefit well from the nutrients it’ll absorb from your victim. so, where did you put the body?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #1

“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred. 

You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake. 

You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking. 

There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline. 

You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket. 

“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”

So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad. 

Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—

You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before. 

But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock. 

Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp. 

“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”

But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed. 

Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water. 

It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up. 

But nothing happened and your body didn’t move. 

On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it. 

Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake. 

He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling. 

“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”

If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way. 

Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him. 

You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline. 

Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones. 

Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place. 

But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”

Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer. 

You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still. 

And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.  

“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”

Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt. 

“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”

The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk. 

A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence. 

Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall. 

Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day. 

The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths. 

Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building. 

He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall. 

Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too. 

Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this. 

“You can change in there.”

You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet. 

So you said nothing.

Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head. 

You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam. 

When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes. 

You didn’t know where to look. 

“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”

Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday. 

And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you. 

It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue. 

“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.

You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be. 

The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much. 

So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two. 

Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too. 

Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people. 

But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck. 

Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up. 

You took a step back. 

“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.” 

You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end. 

He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly. 

You stared back. 

The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet. 

You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom. 

So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way. 

“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”

You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own. 

“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”

It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps. 

“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle. 

You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you. 

“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now. 

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”

There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool. 

“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”

He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty. 

“Two more steps, alright?” 

Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively. 

Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his. 

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”

Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore. 

Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”

You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”

Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”

You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed. 

Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him. 

[ruewrote]

𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑠.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: teasing, no use of y/n GENRE: bestfriends to lovers, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: location by khalid WORD COUNT: 2.5k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

the snow crunched beneath your boots as you walked up the path toward the washington lodge, a cozy warmth settling in your chest despite the chill in the mountain air. it was the annual winter getaway, the weekend all of you had looked forward to for months. mike, emily, matt, jess, sam, beth, hannah, josh… and you.

you were all gathering at the washingtons’ family lodge again, tucked away in the mountains and far from the bustle of everyday life. it was supposed to be a few days of skiing, relaxing, and rekindling old friendships.

but this year, you had more than just a weekend of fun ahead of you. you had a secret.

a secret that wore a mischievous smile, cracked endless jokes. josh washington, the boy you had grown up with, the one who had always been the most unserious out of the group, always at the center of everything, had somehow, unexpectedly, become more than just a friend to you.

it started over the summer. the two of you had stayed behind after one of his many house parties, helping him clean up the aftermath of yet another wild night. everyone had gone home, the house had grown quiet, except for the low hum of music still playing in the background.

you had shared a drink on his back porch, watching the stars while talking about nothing and everything. something had very obviously changed between the two of you that night. the way he had looked at you, the way your laughter had slowed into something softer, more intimate. by the end of the evening, the two of you had shared a kiss that had left your head spinning.

that was months ago, and since then, you and josh had been sneaking around, keeping whatever this was under wraps. it had been fun, the secrecy giving everything an added thrill. stolen glances, secret texts, hurried kisses when no one was looking. but now, with everyone gathering at the lodge for a weekend of fun, things were bound to get complicated.

you hadn’t told anyone yet. not sam, not beth or hannah, none of the people who knew both of you inside and out. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, or that you didn’t want them to know. you just… didn’t know how to tell them.

what would they think? and what was this thing with josh, really? it wasn’t like the two of you had talked about being official. it was a whirlwind, exciting and new, but it wasn’t defined. at least not yet.

the snow already beginning to fall lightly around you, your mind drifted to josh. the thought of spending it together, sneaking off for moments alone in the middle of all the chaos, excited you but it also made you nervous. how long could the two of you keep this up before someone noticed?

the lodge came into view, the wooden structure stood tall and inviting, smoke curling from the chimney, the lights already glowing in the windows. a small smile spread across your lips as you saw sam waving to you from the front porch, bundled up in her bright colored beanie and jacket. 

“hey!” she called out, her breath clouding in the cold air as you made your way up the steps. “i was starting to think that you’d gotten lost in the snow or something. it’s freezing!”

“wouldn’t miss this for the world,” you replied, pulling her into a quick hug. you took a moment to glance around, “is everyone already here?”

“yeah,” sam said, grinning. “inside, warming up with some hot cocoa. josh is trying to convince mike to try one of his weird marshmallow experiments again.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. of course josh would already be up to something. “sounds about right,” you said, trying to keep your tone light even though you were getting flustered just at the mention of his name.

as the two of you walked inside, the familiar warmth of the lodge washed over you. the smell of cinnamon and the crackling of the fireplace filled the air. voices and laughter echoed from the living room, and you smiled as you saw the group sprawled out across the couches. josh was in the middle of it all, perched on the edge of the coffee table, arguing with mike about the “proper” way to toast marshmallows.

he caught your eye as you stepped in, and for a split second, his face softened in a way that made you melt a little. it was subtle, but you saw it, his eyes lingering on you just a little longer than necessary, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile he tried to hide. you gave him a small, knowing smile in return, but quickly looked away before anyone could notice.

“finally!” josh said loudly, standing up and making his way toward you. “i thought you’d bailed on us. couldn’t handle the cold?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “please, i grew up here too, remember? i can handle a little snow.”

“yeah, sure you can,” he teased, his eyes twinkling as he bumped your shoulder lightly. it was such a small gesture, one that no one else would think twice about, but you hadn’t realised how much you’d been missing his slight touches, even if it had only been a week.

the rest of the group greeted you with their usual warmth. beth pulling you into a tight hug, jess chirping on about how she couldn’t wait for the campfires to begin, emily making some comment about how you were late. everything felt familiar and comfortable, except for the subtle tension that hummed between you and josh. you were hyper aware of every glance, every fleeting touch, every moment you were near him, wondering if anyone else could pick up on it.

“alright, let’s get this party started!” mike called out, standing up with a grin. “i say we hit the hot tub before the snow really starts coming down.”

the group started to disperse, everyone heading upstairs to change, and you slipped into the hallway, trying to sneak off to your room before anyone could stop you. but just as you rounded the corner, you felt a hand wrap gently around your wrist, tugging you towards them.

your breath catching as you found josh standing behind you, his expression teasing but his voice low. “you trying to avoid me already?”

you glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before giving him a playful shove. “i’m not avoiding you,” you whispered back, though the smile on your face gave you away. “i’m just trying to keep a low profile. you know… not let everyone figure us out.”

josh raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “and here i thought you liked the whole sneaking around thing. adds a little excitement, don’t you think?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that broke through. “maybe,” you admitted, getting a little giddy when he looked at you like that.

“well, i don’t know how long we can keep this up,” he said, his voice dropping even lower as he took a step closer. “it’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off you, you know.”

you felt heat creep up your neck, and you had to force yourself not to look down the hall to make sure no one was watching. instead, you met his gaze and smirked. “well, you’re just going to have to try, aren’t you?”

he grinned, leaning in just enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “mm…we’ll see how long that lasts,” he murmured before pulling away, leaving you with your heart pounding in your chest as he disappeared back into the living room.

you stood there for a moment, catching your breath and trying to compose yourself. it was getting harder to act normal around him, especially now that you were surrounded by your friends. you weren’t ready for them to know yet. you didn’t even know what this was yet. this thing between you and josh. it was exciting and fun, but it was also confusing and new.

the weekend continued, and for the most part, you and josh had managed to keep things under wraps. there were close calls, of course. like the time you had slipped out of the hot tub early, claiming you were too cold, only for josh to mysteriously leave five minutes later. you had barely found a moment alone in the hallway before mike and matt came stomping up the stairs, laughing loudly about something ridiculous and forcing you both to pretend nothing had been happening. 

then there were the little touches that lingered a bit too long, the private smiles exchanged when you thought no one was looking. you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it together. josh, of course, seemed to be having the time of his life, teasing you whenever he got the chance, whispering suggestive comments in your ear just to make you hot and bothered when no one was paying attention. he was enjoying the secrecy, the thrill of it all. 

but by the second day, you started to feel like someone might be onto you.

it was subtle, just small things, like how jess would raise an eyebrow when she caught you and josh talking a bit too close in the corner of the living room, or the way hannah seemed to linger whenever she entered a room the two of you were in together. you couldn’t help but feel like they were noticing things, and it was only a matter of time before someone said something.

then the slip up happened…

it was late, after dinner, and most of the group had retreated to their rooms or were hanging out in the living room playing games. you and josh had slipped away, managing to steal a moment alone in the back hallway near the kitchen. you had been talking, laughing quietly about something that had happened earlier when josh had suddenly leaned in and kissed you, quick, soft.

you didn’t hear the footsteps until it was too late.

beth’s voice cut through the quiet like a knife. “uh… am i interrupting something?”

your heart dropped into your stomach as you and josh sprang apart, turning to see beth standing in the hallway, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but josh beat you to it, running a hand through his hair and laughing in that easy, carefree way he always did when he was caught off guard.

“well, uh, this is awkward,” he said, shooting you a quick glance before turning back to his sister. “beth, hey, what’s up?”

beth raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “what’s up? really? i think i should be asking you two that.”

you felt your face heat up, your mind searching for an explanation, but josh just shrugged, clearly not as rattled as you were. “i mean, it’s not what it looks like.”

beth laughed. “oh, come on, josh. don’t even try to play that card.”

josh grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “alright, fine. you caught us. but, you know, could you maybe… not say anything? for now, at least?”

beth gave him a look, her expression softening a bit. “you know i won’t tell anyone. but you’re going to have a hard time keeping this a secret for long. especially with the way you two keep sneaking around.”

josh winked at her. “that’s half the fun, right?”

“ugh gross!”

beth nodded, giving you both a small smile before turning to leave. “alright. but seriously, josh, be smart about this.”

as she disappeared down the hall, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. josh turned to you, his expression a mix of amusement and something more serious.

“well,” he said, leaning against the wall with a lopsided grin. “that could’ve gone worse.”

you laughed nervously, your heart still racing. “yeah, could’ve gone better too.”

josh’s grin softened, and he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “don’t worry. we’ll figure this out, okay?”

you nodded, feeling a little more at ease. “yeah. we will.”

it didn’t take long for beth’s discovery to spread. it wasn’t that she told anyone, but secrets like yours had a way of coming out, especially when the whole group was crammed together for a prolonged amount of time. by the time the third day rolled around, there was a noticeable shift in the air. people were starting to know, little comments from mike, knowing smiles from sam, and more than one snarky comment from emily.

but the final straw came that evening.

the group was gathered around the fire, playing a round of truth or dare. it was a harmless enough game, until it wasn’t. 

it started with silly dares, like mike having to shotgun a beer in one go, or jess being dared to dive into the snow in just her underwear. but when it was sam’s turn to ask you, she gave you a look that had you nervous.

“alright,” sam said, leaning back in her chair, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “truth or dare?”

you hesitated for a second, knowing that whatever you chose, you were in for it. “truth.”

sam grinned. “okay… is there something going on between you and josh?”

the room went silent.

your blood ran cold, and you could feel every single pair of eyes on you. josh, who was sitting across from you, stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. his eyes met yours for a split second before flicking away.

you swallowed hard, trying to think of a way out, but there was no escaping this. everyone was waiting, and you could practically feel the anticipation hanging in the air.

finally, you sighed, feeling your face flush with heat. “okay, fine,” you said, glancing at josh before looking back at the group. “you caught us..”

the room erupted into a mix of laughter, cheers, and surprised exclamations. mike nearly fell off his chair, jess clapped her hands together with excitement, and sam just grinned triumphantly.

“i knew it!” mike shouted, pointing at you and josh. “i knew something was up!”

jess leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “how long has this been going on? how did we not notice?!”

you laughed, feeling both embarrassed and relieved at the same time. “a few months, actually. we’ve, uh, been trying to keep it quiet.”

“clearly,” emily said with a smirk, crossing her arms. “not that quiet though.”

josh finally spoke up, his usual easygoing grin back on his face. “what can i say? we’re just really good at sneaking around.”

sam laughed, shaking her head. “well, the cat’s out of the bag now.”

you couldn’t help but smile as the group continued to tease and ask questions, the initial tension fading as the atmosphere became lighter and more playful. it was a relief, in a way, to have the secret out in the open. no more sneaking around, no more pretending. 

just you and josh, together, in front of the people who mattered to you most.

comments and reblogs are appreciated

[sashi-ya]

portgas d. ace x gn! reader tw: none. wc: 250

DOWNPOUR. a drop, and then two more. One pooling on your nose, the other running through your heated cheeks. “It’s raining, Ace!”. “I know, my natural enemy!” he jokes, grabbing your hand. His tight grip feels warm like summer mornings, like the fire of his heart that burns so strong in the middle of his chest. You run through the ups and downs of that hill, on a random island you two decided to explore. The skies have become dark, almost pitch black. Thunder are roaring, and the rain turns more into a violent downpour. Wind tangles upon your hairs, the drops of rain hitting your cheeks; his galaxy cheeks. “We should take cover until it’s over” he suggests, looking back at you with a smile as bright as the sun. His messy dark hair getting wet, all of his belongings as well. You nod; in awe. Ace’s laughter makes your heart skip a beat -or maybe two, or three-. “But first…” Snatching you closer, pulling you from your hand, until your chest collides with his and your lips meet. A kiss that deepens the more the rain falls like a cold blessing from the sky. Drops pool in between your mouths, running down your chins and necks. His arms around your waist. “I once read on those Dadan’s old lady novels that when two lovers kiss under the rain, they stay forever together”. “Ace, you read Dadan’s novels?” “I was bored before Luffy moved in, ok? Now kiss me again!”

[bloodmoonmuses]

translation: i love you. | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, college au (not that important for the context tbh), friends to lovers, fluff, drabble (900 words)

summary: your friends referred to you as the mark lee interpreter. you weren't sure why, but you understood him- even the words he didn't say.

warnings: none!

To many, you were known as the Mark Lee Interpreter. Such was usually said in jest, but you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest when the moniker was bestowed upon you. Sure, the guy rambles a bit, but if you listen- really listen- he has quite a beautiful outlook on the world. 

You and Mark usually conversed in motion. You’ve divulged your deepest secrets to him while on aimless walks. You’ve cracked your wisest jokes to one another while biking. You’ve had entire conversations through your eyes while dancing in grimy bars.

Now was no different, though a more chill variation. It’s Spring, so the two of you are taking a stroll in between classes. The sun knocks the chill off an otherwise too-chilly day, its rays falling on your face like a smattering of kisses. Spring isn’t in its picturesque stage quite yet. The stasis of winter still lingers, trees barren and skies grayish amidst the light that peeks through the cloud coverage. It’s calming.

There’s a creek that runs through the center of campus, a little bridge arching over the widest part. This is where you stood now, watching the water trickle over stones. 

“I think about rocks a lot,” Mark says out of nowhere. (Translation: Nature is so beautiful- even the most mundane and minute aspects of it. Even the parts that people forget. I think about forgotten things a lot, like rocks.) You believe it. Mark thinks a lot about a lot of things.

“They’re, like, soooo varied. Y’know?”

You do know. Large rocks. Mountainous rocks. Boulders. Stones. Pebbles. There are many types of rocks. “The ones in the creek look super smooth. It’s… hypnotizing.” Mark speaks as though he’s constantly in amazement, or on the brink of an epiphany. He’s the embodiment of potential, of the hypothetical, of what could be. You think a lot about what you and Mark could be. 

Of the many possibilities, you conclude that as long as some form of togetherness is involved, you’d be anything for him.

“I think about water a lot,” you respond. 

“What’s your favorite kind of water?” (Translation: Indulge me. How intently do you think about the minutiae of the world? Are you as crazy about water as I am about rocks?)

“Hm,” you say. “Good question. No one’s ever asked me that.” You assume he’s asking you to identify a particular body of water as your favorite. A memory comes to mind. 

It was the summer after freshman year. You and Mark went to the beach everyday together.  You think of the chilly water that rolled over your toes in the waking moments of dawn. You think of how beautiful the sunrise looked reflected on the ocean. You think of Mark waking up with you, despite not being a morning person. That wasn’t your favorite type of water, no. You specifically liked the sea water that danced on the ends of Mark’s hair. The drops that traveled down the follicle, forming shimmering beads, and dripped onto the sand below. You made a game of watching and counting them that summer. (The highest you got was 47.) 

You’re not sure how to consolidate this memory into a sentence that doesn’t sound absolutely insane. You decide to omit the thought entirely. A conversation for a different day, you suppose. 

“The ocean. Cliche, I know,” you say. Mark nods to himself, then hums.

The creek beneath you harmonizes with Mark’s humming. He begins walking again, taking your hand in his. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary for your friendship, but it makes your heart do this twisty thing you can’t quite place. It was the one action of his you couldn’t interpret. Mark doesn’t make a big deal about it, nor does he discuss the matter afterwards. It was almost like he was entitled to your hand, clasping his calloused fingers around yours without a second thought.

You’ve never actually looked at your intertwined hands before. The first time he grabbed it (during one of those days on the beach), Mark acted so nonchalant. You figured the gesture didn’t mean much to him. You were scared that, if provided with a visual, you’d never stop thinking about his stupid hands. 

This time, you allow yourself a peek. The cuff of Mark’s jacket hangs over his fingers, and he squeezes your hand when he realizes you’re looking. (Translation: You’re finally acknowledging this. Are you here? Can you feel me?) 

Your hand is getting sweaty. You pull away to wipe it on your jeans.

Mark can’t believe you’re nervous right now. You’re never nervous around him. The two of you have become accustomed to the wordless ease of your relationship.

Mark’s eyeing you again. You pretend you can’t see him in your peripheral vision. It doesn’t work. “Nervous?”

“Not even a little bit,” you say defiantly. You snatch his hand back into yours as if to prove your point. However, this only does the opposite as you begin to literally tremble.

“You’re so funny,” says Mark, running his thumb over the back of your hand. He slowly lifts your hand to his mouth, but he doesn’t kiss it. He simply presses your knuckles to his lips, maintaining eye contact while he does so. Your breath hitches.

“Mark-” is all you manage to say. You can’t meet his eyes, so you look at your conjoined hands as they swing between the two of you. Elation radiates off Mark’s skin. He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Your hand is so warm,” Mark says. (Translation: I love you.) 

a/n: feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch15 Setting Hearts A Blaze

(There'll be a small time skip as things will be repetitive until we cut over to the Rengoku household.Plus a funny meme I made for fun.)

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@rotting-alone @namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

The sounds of traffic and wheels on the road was all that filled the early morning air as you stifled a yawn threatening to leak out of your mouth. It was rather early but you promised to drive your Aunt to the airport the day after Halloween. You hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior staying late at the party and spending a lot of time removing glittery make up on your skin. On top of that you were going to be a little late for work because of said trip you had to take.

"Thank you so much for dropping me off, Hun. These late night readings are killing my posture," your aunt said stretching out an arm. "Now I know why women my age get grey hairs! HAHA!"

You rolled your eyes at her joke before slowly coming to a stop at a stop sign. A giant suitcase was behind her in the passenger seat and you were ninety nine percent sure it was mostly packed up with fliers and other business promotional things. Not something you thought would be taken to a wedding but then again you  were talking about your aunt here. Nothing she did ever made sense.

"It's not a problem. And I did promise I would." Turning on your turn signal, you turned left going on down the road where you could make out the airport just a little bit aways. "When are you coming back?"

She waved a hand. "Two or three days from now. I'll call a taxi when I get back don't worry. I just appreciate you being nice enough to take me." She then smiled at you before reaching out to ruffle your hair like a kid. "You're a good kid. Now I can see why that big teddy bear likes you so much!"

"Not while I'm driving," you waved her hand off but smiled. "But I guess so. I feel so lucky to have him after everything that happened. It was like life finally decided to stop making me it's punching bag ....At least when it comes to dating."

The older woman smiled more. "He's a good one. I predicted a happy healthy like for you two."

"You mean when you read his palm without asking him first?"

She shrugged. "He didn't mind and everything I saw was predicable anyhoo- You still haven't let me read yours."

"Because I don't believe in those things no offense. Besides the last time you read my palm, you said I would 'be so beautiful many men and women will fall for me'." You rolled your eyes again putting on your turn signal again before slowly turning into the air port's parking lot. "And that was five years ago get it still hasn't happened."

"Give it time! My foresights always come true sooner or later." She smiled despite you sighing in response. "WHELP! Looks like I've got a date with the skies! See you in a few days!" She had just grabbed onto the car and was about to open it and step out-

"Wait!" In question she turned back around with a raised brow at you as you started patting down your clothes and frantically digging around in your pockets until you eventually pulled out something. Well a lot of somethings. "I need your help with something."

"Oh?" What she thought was a deck of cards, was actually..a deck of cards but not the playing card variety. It seemed to be a stack of business cards that was held up to her.

"There's someone who's loosing business really badly. He runs a dojo somewhere around here and I feel like I want to help him. I know you're pretty good at networking and know everyone there is..Do you think you can help?"

The softer eyes of the older woman eyed you in interest before glancing at the business cards. Taking them with a hum and eyeing the words inked onto their flimsy cardboard bodies... Before she smiled. 

"I think I can do something with these. I'm surprised you want to help a stranger so badly."

You shrugged. "I don't know why I want to...it just feels like the right thing to do. Plus he's one of Gyomei's friends. It might be good to try and get along with them."

Your aunt hummed again and you flinched as she suddenly grabbed your hand. Looking at the palm very closely and her brows rising in some kind of realization. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Oh, nothing.~" She giggled dropping your hand and waving you off. "Don't worry about a thing honey. Just leave everything to me. By the end of this month, everyone is gonna flock to ya!"

Your face turned to confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh you'll find out soon enough. Oh. Look at the time! I better go before I miss my flight. You better get going before you're late too."

You hadn't the foggiest idea of what your eccentric aunt was talking about but shrugged it off as her being eccentric again. With he out of your car, you just made the long drive back home and to the college where you were unsurprisingly late and trudged yourself into the daycare tired and sore. Hopefully the children behaved especially good today so you wouldn't have to worry about anything else other than being scolded by your boss. 

"You look sleepy, Ms. Y/n," one little girl pointed out as soon as you slowly walked into the large playroom trying to tie your apron in the back.

....Yeah. Today might be a very long day for you. 

Unluckily the comment made by the little girl, whom you gently shooed to go listen to a story someone else was reading to other kids, was not missed by your boyfriend who looked up from where he was wiping glitter glue off a toy someone dropped on top of the arts and crafts table. You couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped you as Gyomei was quick to walk on over and you felt his form practically loom over you as his head tilted.

"You're tired." It wasn't a question, it was a statement that you winced at. 

"A little bit."

"I thought I asked you to stay home if you didn't get enough sleep."

You waved him off despite the fact that he obviously couldn't see you. "I'm not gonna pass out. I'm just a little bit tired, and I have things to do today."

"Such as?"

Working? Getting today's notes from Giyuu, the project you have with him, and you promised to bake a few things for everyone.  Not to mention grocery shopping, bills, cleaning up your house-

You jumped as a large hand suddenly tilted your head back up towards the staring white eyes. "None of that." He spoke as if he could literally read your mind. "After work I want you to go right home and rest. I'll inform Shinobu and Tomioka you won't be able to make the appointment today."

"W-What? But I promised them I'd do it with them not to mention that I also-"

A warmth presses against your head making you instantly turn red and a few little kids gagged and closed their eyes at the sight. One pointed at you both with a disgusted face.

"Ew, Mr. Mei! That's cooties!," she accused him to which he chuckled at her and smiled 

"Perhaps so. But I meant what I said." You were wide awake now as he patted the top of your head. "Go home and rest. If you don't I'll just take your keys and carry you home myself."

"Yo-Yo-You're bluffing!"

He hummed. "Am I?"

You decided against wanting to see if he'd actually do that and quickly scurried away when one of the younger toddlers cried out in frustration at his building blocks falling over again and again. His chubby little hands and waddle walk keeping knocking over the blocks he did stack up again and again. You'd have to console him and played with the little guy to make sure he was having a good time. 

Things weren't really too much different for the rest of the day. You did your job and helped to start clean up and check out the kids as their parents started arriving. However you didn't see Sanemi turn up. It wasn't even Kanae. Or Giyuu or Shinobu or even Mitsuri whom you were pretty good friends with by now. Instead you were treated to the sight of a tall and visibly muscular man whom walked in through the doorway. Orange hair framing his brightly smiling face and just as fiery eyes blinking around until they settled on you.

With a beaming smile he walked right up to you and you blinked as he stood before you. "HELLO, Y/N!!"

You winced at the high volume but still smiled. "Hi, Kyojuro." You greeted the positive man. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been sent to fetch Koto!," he proclaimed hands on his hips, "Sanemi's running late with his tutoring classes so he asked me to come get Koto for him!"

You blinked. "Really? I don't remember Sanemi telling me this and it's policy to call ahead of time for alternate pick ups."

His head tilted like an owl. "Really? He told the front desk lady this morning."

Oh right. You weren't here that morning. You held up a hand. "Let me go ask real quick. No offense. It's just part of the job."

"NO OFFENSE TAKEN!!"

You still chuckled despite yourself and left for just a few minutes. Confirmed with a coworker who was there that morning. And then returned a moment later with Koto on your hip and his daycare bag Sanemi always dropped off with him slung over your shoulder. The toddler was fiddling with a little car but let out a happy gasp upon seeing the red haired man.

"Ren-Ren!," he cheered throwing up his hands excitedly, "Hi!"

"Hello, Koto!" He greeted holding out his arms to the toddler. "Did you have a fun day?"

Koto was happily accepted into his arms with a nod. "Uh huh! Miss Toji reads us Beauty n da beast."

"Ooh. A fun story."

"Where's Nemi?"

"He's late, but I'm gonna take you to the park while we wait."

"YAY!!"

You chuckled at the adorable sight of him holding  up the bag. "Here. You'll be needing this. How's Mrs. Shinazugawa by the way?"

"Thank you!" The bag was taken away from you before he again tilted his head in question. Like he seemed to be studying you for a second. "She is doing better. Still a little stressed about paying back everything, but eventually she will and everything will go back to normal for everyone involved. However I believe that you had a hand in her soon to be relief."

You blinked at him. "Oh. You mean the money." He nodded and you hummed. "Well like I told everyone else, he just needed it more than me."

"A thousand dollars and free food for an entire year are a hard thing to give up for most people..and yet you have it all away to a at the time complete stranger."

You winced. "That's not totally true. I-..I didn't really think about giving it to him at first. Really I didn't think of anyone else but myself at first but-.."

"But?," he asked raising a brow in question as you sighed.

"I dunno. I didn't really have a mom growing up so-"...You looked down fingers drumming on the countertop. "So I guess seeing him trying so hard to help his mom made me feel really sorry for him. Maybe it's something I'd wanna do too if my mom was around y'know..Uh.." You stopped when you saw him intently staring at you Koto mindlessly toying with his toy. "Uh. S-Sorry. Didn't mean to ramble on."

"Please. Do not apologize for the honesty. It's rare for someone to have an honest heart and even rather for them to admit things we may not be proud up." His smile got even wider if that was possible. "I can now see why you were able to make such great friends with everyone. You're a good person!"

Despite yourself a small pink appeared on your face, hand waving at him. "Shucks. Stop it. You're embarrassing me. Oh. That reminds me. How's your dad doing? Anything change?"

He shook his head. "Not yet but a few of Senjuro's classmates have shown interest in the dojo! We just have to remain optimistic and keep working at it!"

Ah. So your aunt hadn't worked her magic yet. Makes sense. It hasn't even been a whole day yet...Eh. you really shouldn't expect results to just happen like that. It was as unrealistic as her predicting that men and women would fall for you like some badly written fantasy story.

You nodded. "We gotta look on the bright side of things for sure! Anyways it was nice to see you again, Kyojuro. I hope to see you again sometime."

"INDEED! And thank you again for those delicious cookies! Everyone loved them!"

"Cookies?"

"Not for you I'm afraid!" In one movement the energetic man turned on his heel towards the door. "Now come! The swing sets and slides await us!"

"Yay! Swings!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the goofy man as he left with the giggling child. He certainly was a bright fellow. Everything would be ok. You were sure of that. Even if your efforts did nothing, surely the Rengoku's would be able to get by well.

Days passed by. 

The October fall being kissed goodbye slowly as the leaves still fell and gave way to that weird time of the months of November where the cool of fall was merging with the soon to be cold of winter and snow. Jackets, scarfs, and mittens were already being seen on so many walking around. 

It was on one of these days that a slow miracle was creeping up to its unsuspecting gift-y. Not quite a Christmas miracle but it'll do in a pinch for what was to be taken place that evening. A hot bowl of soup and a little bit of rice was always a quick and nice meal for a cold night like this. The kind of meal that'd help to cheer him up and reminded him just how much he loved his wife's cooking when the tray was placed in front of him and a warm kiss was pressed to his lips for a second.

Smiles were always his favorite part of her. Couldn't get enough of it as she smiled at him. "Here. I made some miso soup today. It ought to help you warm up after all the work you did."

Hard work? If you can call cleaning a barely used dojo and moping around all day hard work. He would've laughed at himself if he hadn't felt so frustrated with himself right now. Instead he kept quiet and pulled the bowl closer to him muttering a barely audible thanks. Her smile slowly gave way to a sad frown before she sighed and turned away. Slowly allowing herself to start preparing her own meal and a second tray for her youngest boy. She'd take him a meal as he was busy studying for a few exams before the Christmas break. 

The scooping of hot soup sloshing around in the pot was only paused when the distant sounds of a familiar beeping noise cascaded through the air. Catching her attention and only making her husband grunt again.

"Are you going to answer that?"

She didn't answer him. Letting the ladle spoon plop back down into the soul with a watery noise and quickly making her way towards the den where no doubt the home phone was ringing out for someone to answer it. It was not too long before the cold plastic was picked up from the receiver and help up to her ear. 

"Yes?"...Red eyes blinked. "Oh? I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is everything alright?" Her head turned around back towards the man still lazily picking at his soul with a spoon and not eating it. "Yes....Alright then."

Pitiful eyes didn't look up from the sloshing liquid of the soup even as footsteps approached back softly or even when he saw a pair of legs stop at his side out of the corner of his eyes. But he did blink as something was held out to his face. Took him two seconds to realize that it was a phone, and it took him one more second to look back up to his wife in question.

"Dear, it's Mr. Ubuyashiki."

A blink. "Who?"

"He's the chairman of Senjuro's school." The phone was nudged closer to him. "He wants to talk to you."

What? He grunted looking annoyed. "So? What does he want? If Senjuro's done something then-"

"Dear, please just speak to him."

There was a small three second pause before with an annoyed look the phone was taken from her and reluctantly held up to his ear. "Yes?"

"Ah! A different voice!" The voice of the phone was a man's. Clearly one he's never heard before. "Am I to assume that this is the husband of my wonderful calligraphy teacher?"

"What do you want?" He wasn't in the mood for the cheery bull that this voice seemed to have.

"Straight to the point then I see! Then I won't beat around the bush." The voice chuckled but gained a more professional feeling with it. "I heard that you are quite a coach!"

...Another blink. "What?"

"Recently I attended a little celebration of a good friend's son. Your name happened to be on a little business card handed out to me and I was reminded of your son. Polite young man he is."

"What is the point to this? Either spit it out or I'll hang up!" He REALLY was not in the mood to be talking to a man that liked to make random small chit chat even with the stern frown his wife was giving him.

"Of course," the man remained polite and patient despite his annoyance. "It reminded me of the petition Senjuro presented to me a little bit ago to start a kendo club. Usually I wouldn't mind clubs but one of our biggest school sponsors thought it would be a great idea to have an official kendo league added to our school. Frankly I couldn't agree more."

Huh. So his youngest finally did something worthwhile huh?...Guess that was good for him but-

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well naturally if we're to add kendo to our track and other sports teams we'll be in need of a coach to teach said sport." He completely froze at his words. "But unfortunately we have none."

The world seemed to slow down as the silence continued to stare off at nothing. His throat suddenly felt dry as he swallowed thickly in order to not let his neck to become a desert. "What..are you getting at?"

"Mr. Shinjuro I've heard quite a good deal about you from your wife and others. I'd love to hire you as one of our new sports coaches starting next semester! And have you coach our new established kendo team if that's an option for you."

CLINK. CLI-CLINK.

Ruka blinked as the spoon dropped from her husband's hand and clattered to the table flinging small droplets of miso soup around the oak wood surface. Her brow rose higher at the wide eyed stare he seemed to have. Like he just saw a ghost.

"Honey? Are you ok?"

[caffedrine]

Matias Asbrink - I fell in love with you that day – Choose your true love - Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

One morning, Emma woke up to find herself in a strange room. She looks around in a panic before her memory comes back. She is in a guest room in the Achroite castle. 

(That or a very nice ski lodge)

Her memory comes back to her - she was eating dinner with her new friend, Prince Matias, but it had grown late so he had let her stay in one of the castle’s guest rooms. 

Well, Emma isn’t a bad guest. She should get up, get ready, thank Matias for his hospitality, and leave. 

She hears the sound of knocking on her door, and then Matias’ voice calls out asking if she is awake yet. 

Emma calls back she is and opens the door to Matias. He’s as impeccably dressed as always, without a single hair out of place. He smiles at her and asks if she slept well last night.

Oh, Emma did. A little too well, she just got up and hasn’t fixed her hair yet. She apologizes for being so unkempt.

Matias assures her that she’s just fine, if anything, she’s cute in a new way like this. She reminds him of little snow fairies playing in the powder snow.

But that aside, they have something serious to talk about. You see, Emma broke the rules last night.

Huh?

Emma recounts last night - she doesn’t recall doing anything wrong, but maybe these are some of the laws that defy her common sense. Suddenly all she can see is the cold expression on Matias’s face as he condemns criminals to jail. Her heart beats in her ears as her veins turn to ice.

Matias is usually very kind and gentle, but he acts the complete opposite towards criminals. Even though they are friends, Emma doubts he will show her any mercy. 

Ominously, Matias tells her to accept her punishment, and Emma nods, closing her eyes.

. . . !?!!!!

What kind of punishment is this? Emma’s eyes snap open to see Matias’ face, his eyes sparkling sweetly right in front of her. Her forehead, where he kissed her, feels sensitive. 

As she stands there in shock, Matias caresses her cheek. He reminds her about their ‘lovey-dovey’ rules, which state if they have a day off the following day, Emma spends the night in his bed. He asks why she didn’t come to him last night - she especially loves cocooning up in his blankets. Up to now, she has always praised his owl embroidery. 

Or was she so excited for the punishment that she was teasing him? Don’t worry, he’ll kiss her as much as she wants. 

(All day, any day)

Is Emma still asleep? Is this some bizarre dream to taunt her?

Matias has noticed by now that Emma hasn’t responded to him in a while. He says her name sweetly as if prompting her. Then his face comes close for another kiss. 

Emma shrieks and asks Matias what he thinks he’s doing. Confused, Matias admits to trying to kiss her again - oh, could it be that she’s not in the mood for kisses?

Emma asks why in the world should he kiss her? Did he work too much as is still tired?

Matias looks upset, shouldn’t they want to kiss each other? Isn’t this normal for them?

Well, no! Emma reminds Matias that they are just friends!

. . . Friends?

Matias mutters to himself to calm down, no matter what is going on he just needs to stay calm. Looking up at Emma pleadingly, he asks if this means she’s dumping him and they’re no longer lovers.

(Will his imaginary ex-wife take him back?)

What?

Matias asks why she looks surprised. She was there too, through their tumultuous breathless times, and enough hardships to freeze one’s heart. Has Emma already forgotten the happiness they found, bursting through the snow like daisies?

Emma looks at Matias, at his ardent expression and grows concerned. He’s always been one to march to a beat of his own tune, but even for him, he’s acting strange. 

Emma apologizes, she doesn’t remember anything. She’s only met Matias recently, nothing like what he’s describing has happened. 

Matias looks upset, then he looks like he’s come up with something. Did Emma say that had just recently met? But from his point of view, they have been together for a while now, and while it’s still early, they are in their honeymoon phase.

He’s had a daydream like this before. He was wondering what would happen if he went backward in time and met an earlier version of Emma.

Oh my gosh, he daydreamed so hard that he made it his new reality!

Emma considers that, if you ignore all the delusional daydream wording, Matias is essentially saying he’s from the future. It’s too unbelievable- but on the other hand, the Matias she knows does not play practical jokes like this. So, maybe this is real.

Matias asks if this means that he and Emma are not lovers, does that at least make them friends? Oh, so all those plans he had for today . . .

Matias hangs his head, depressed. Emma tries to peer into Matias’ face, but he simply looks gloomy. She tentatively asks what were his plans today.

Well, he was planning on going on a date with her. He had made plans and arrangements for all their activities, but now . . .

As if for proof, Matias pulls out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. 

Emma reads the small, neat lettering, her eyes going wide. He’s put a lot of effort into today.

If it means so much to him, Emma is willing to go on a friendship date. She has the day off from work and nothing in particular planned. 

Matias perks up and asks if she’s sure. Emma nearly flinches from the sex appeal centered on her and nods in response. Of course, she will, just as long as Matias keeps it friendly, unlike before.

Matias can agree to that. When in Rome and all. They are friends at this time, so he won’t go beyond that boundary. Emma nods, even if this is future Matias - he’s still fundamentally the same person she became friends with.

After she finished getting ready, Matias’ first stop is the Achroite Royal Academy—specifically its library. 

The sight of tall bookshelves reaching up to the vaulted ceiling full of books lifted Emma’s heart. In comparison, Rhodolite’s library was small and simple. Emma looks all around, almost spinning in place and Matias laughs. He explains that he didn’t realize it was her first time coming here, and he’s delighted that she’s so pleasantly surprised. 

With a sweet gaze directed towards her, Matias guides her around the library. He explains that the Royal Academy hosts royals and aristocrats from all over the continent, allowing the librarians to purchase books freely. Achroite needs to be unbiased in their knowledge.

Most of the books are academic and law-related, but they boast a wide selection of other genres. Including Emma’s favorite romance novels, all gathered in this particular section. When he was a student, Matias could often be found here.

Emma asks if he is seriously saying that this entire section is romance novels? 

Yes, cultivating one’s emotions is a particular skill for adolescents. 

Oh, and here! This is one of future Emma’s favorite books. Emma accepts the book and flips through the pages. She thanks Matias, even a cursory glance through the pages shows promise. 

If she wants to read for a bit, she should do so in the lounge. Matias begins to lead her further into the library. 

When they come across the sofas, Emma sinks into one. Sitting next to Matias, Emma suddenly realizes how quiet and empty the library is and asks Matias about it. 

Matias explains that the library is usually full of students, but this time of day, they are attending lectures. Also, this is a very slow time for outside visitors. Emma asks if he finds this atmosphere peaceful, and Matias does, though that’s not the point. He likes to watch Emma’s emotions play out on her face as she reads. He doesn’t want anyone else to see her, it’s his own personal treasure. 

Matias smiles at her, his snow-colored eyes burning with a heat that could not be chalked up to just a friend. 

Overwhelmed, Emma tears her gaze away from Matias and focuses on the book. 

Matias doesn’t seem to mind and continues. After they get married, he would like to build a library just for her in the castle. That way she can read all she wants, and he can enjoy watching her figure all he wants. Oh, and then he could make her coffee, and just as she finishes, he can bring it to her, and she will be all embarrassed and bashful . . .

Emma has heard Matias talking about his future Queen before, but it’s weird to picture herself in that role. Trying to distract herself, Emma opens the book to read it. Matias doesn’t mind and continues elaborating on his fantasy, distracting Emma from reading the book. 

Together they leave the library and head to the center of town. Matias is giving her the full tour, and Emma is enjoying it. 

Suddenly Matias stops at a shop and asks if Emma doesn’t mind waiting for him while he buys something. Emma doesn’t mind, and while he’s in the shop, she admires the woodworking displayed at a nearby stall. The woodworking of Achroite is truly marvelous, it looks easy to use but the lines are soft and gentle. 

Matias returns shortly, with a large, overloaded pack. Emma blinks at it, then asks if he wants her to help carry some of it. 

Matias assures her that he is fine with this - the weight is nothing to him. 

Okay, but maybe Emma should call for a carriage?

Nope, Matias would rather continue with their friendship date. If he promises to have her home in the evening, would Emma consent to continue with him?

Emma doesn’t mind, but is Matias certain he can handle this?

Of course! When he was a part of the National Guard, Matias once had to walk for three days without sleep, all while carrying a 50kg pack. This is nothing!

Wondering what Matias intends to do with all his items, Emma lets him lead her away to a secluded lake. It is frozen over, and the top sparkles in the sun. 

Emma marvels over it, it truly is beautiful, and the scenery reminds her of a scene from the book. 

What she had been able to read during Matias’ monologue was a girl who lived by the lake and one day met her soulmate. 

While Emma recalled the scene, Matias spreads out a quilt on a nearby tree stump. He admits that he included this in his date plan because of that. He urges her to sit down on the stump and wraps her up in the quilt. Emma thanks him and he assures her that he wants her to be toasty-comfortable.

Matias pulls a log out of the pack and begins setting up a campfire. He explains that as beautiful as it is, the lake is also famous for its cold temperatures, so the blanket won’t be enough. Once he has a happy fire going, he pours water into a cup and heats it up over the flames while he begins grinding a pack of coffee beans.  Emma watches as he sets up the water and coffee beans to start making coffee. 

Emma praises Matias’ outdoor skills, and he admits he gained most of them while he was in the military. They would often have to camp, so he had learned several skills to avoid freezing. 

He hands her the freshly brewed campfire coffee as well as a baked apple. Emma is happy as she eats and drinks, remarking on this luxury. Her happiness makes Matias happy.

Emma asks if he ever cooked like this for his fellow soldiers - and he has. Granted, he would cook meat instead of fruit, but he thought Emma would prefer apples.

In the military, there are a great many hardships, but it’s important to keep morale high. Good food and enough to keep their bellies full does wonders on keeping soldiers content and easier to command.

Emma is happy by all of this, but also happy to have learned more about Matias.  As friendship dates go, Matias put a lot of effort into making this one perfect. She looks at Matias, who is sitting next to her, his snow-colored eyes staring back. As she begins to feel overwhelmed by his raw sex appeal, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close to him. 

Suddenly Matias tenses up and pulls away. He almost forgot they were friends and not lovers and apologizes for almost breaking the rules.

He shuffles away from her slightly, laughing awkwardly with a troubled look on his face. When he returns to his own time, he will have to have lots of fun with his lover - until he is satiated.

Emma awkwardly notes that he kind of overshared there. Matias points out this has a lot to do with her - in the future at least.

Emma shakes her head; she still can’t fathom them being more than friends. Even though Achroite is relaxed on classism, Matias is still a prince. 

Matias asks if she truly can’t imagine falling in love with him. Was their date today that bad?

Of course not! Emma had a lot of fun, and she genuinely enjoyed spending time with Matias, even as just a friend. 

In her heart she knows that Matias is a just man, but sometimes, when his eyes grow cold as he is sentencing a criminal. . .

It’s not that she doubts that there is a future with Matias, it’s more that she can’t see herself getting with someone who, on some level, she finds scary.

Matias thinks for a bit and offers to tell her what it is like being lovers. He does not doubt that if she understands the love he has for her, she would want to be his lover.

Emma assures him that she knows his love well enough, after all, she could feel the love he has for her in everything he did today.

Matias disagrees, he may have slipped up at the end there, but he was actively restraining himself to match the friendship rules they set in the beginning. This isn’t what he’s usually like with her. He asks her permission to describe their lives together.

He doesn’t expect her to immediately agree to be his lover, but take it slow, one step at a time.

Okay?

Emma considers this and agrees. Beaming, Matias decides to start at the beginning. 

His daily routine is to wake up with her at his side and watch her adorable sleeping face. When she starts to wake up too, she begins by rubbing herself against his body. He snuggles her, and she very cutely clings to him. When she finally wakes, she has the sweetest dazed look on her face, and that is when he kisses her good morning. 

(I wouldn't try narrating morning sex as a reason to start dating, but you do you, Matias)

Emma listens to Matias, her face hot with embarrassment. She tries to picture herself as the woman writhing up against Matias, but it falls flat. 

It occurred to her that Matias lover is someone else. 

Maybe it really is a future Emma that he loves, but that’s not who she is. There’s more between them than sweet words and physical affection - they must have endured so much together to form their emotional bond. Right now, Matias loves and misses his future Emma to the point he’s clinging to her, trying to force her into becoming the woman he loves.

Emma watches the lake as Matias continues to describe their perfect honeymoon-like life. The day grows colder, and eventually, they take a carriage back to town, and Emma dozes off inside.

When she wakes up again, she finds herself back in the Achroite Castle guest room. The sky outside the window is bright with the late morning sun. 

She hears a knock at the door and jumps out of bed as Matias calls out a good morning and asks if she’s awake.

Emma opens the door to find Matias on the other side, perfectly dressed with every strand of hair in place. He asks if she slept well and would like to join him for breakfast. 

Emma stares at him, unsure if this is her Matias or the one from the future. After a long moment, Matias asks if Emma is feeling well. 

Emma assures him he’s fine, but Matias insists. They’re friends, right? She doesn’t need to put on a tough exterior when around him. Emma assures him she really is fine, she just had a really bizarre dream that was so real, she’s just having trouble making sense.

A strangely real dream? Oh, Matias has those all the time. He has lots of daydreams like that!

Daydream . . .? Emma recalls future Matias also mentioning realistic daydreams. But this dream of hers felt like something different. 

Tentatively, Emma wants to ask Matias a question. She asks if he sleeps with a blanket with owls embroidered on it. And is this blanket particularly soft?

Oh yeah, he does. Um . . . How does she know about the blankets in his bedroom?

Emma quickly explains that a maid told her about it.

Huh, it’s kind of weird for her to go out of her way to ask about his blankets. Could it be . . . She’s curious about his bedroom? Does she want to spend time, wrapped up in his blankets, relaxing in his room?

Does she want to come to his room?

Before Emma can reply to that, Matias pulls back, shaking his head. He’s gotten ahead of himself, there is a rule in the Asbrink family precepts that a woman must never visit a man’s room without a proper chaperone.

He quickly assures Emma that he is a proper gentleman and would never do anything to her, but rules are rules. 

This actually relaxes Emma. This is the Matias she knows and is friends with, someone who cares about rules and is a bit strange, but overall, a nice man. 

Matias stops talking about the family rules and smiles at Emma. He explains that he enjoys seeing her smile first thing in the morning - it gives him energy to tackle the day. 

That . . . Is something future Matias had mentioned as well. Her heart beats loudly as she thinks about a future she has yet to see. One where she and Matias are truly lovers.

[hanniebaeee]

Unexpectedly Yours

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Summary: You and your friends are on a holiday at a ski resort and you meet a certain Kpop idol, who sweeps you off your feet.

a/n: I just need to be delulu for some time. Forgive me for the errors, I wasn't at my best 😭

You loved winter. The snow, the ice crunching under your feet, the chilly blasts of wind - it was all good. But you were evaluating all your life choices as you sat shivering, even though you were bundled up.

The snow-capped peaks of the mountain resort gleamed under the winter sun, a picturesque setting for a perfect holiday. You  were here with your best friends Lisa and Jennie, seeking a much-needed break from your busy lives. Nestled in the heart of the mountains, the resort's cozy log cabins,  sparkling ice rink, and it's rustic charm had stolen your heart.

But even as you sat in it's quaint cafe, surrounded by the warm aroma of hot cocoa and freshly baked pastries, you felt yourself shiver. Lisa placed a cup in front of you and said, 'Darling, what did you really expect from a ski resort? It's supposed to be cold here.'

'I'm fine, ok? Just a little cold, I'll get over it.' You mutter, taking the cup in your hands.

'Do you realize that you haven't moved from that chair in almost an hour?' Jennie teased.

Shooting them both a glare, you look away. And just to prove that you weren't as weak as they thought, you step out again. The icy wind had you pulling your scarf and woolen hat closer to your face.

You scan the area, seeing crowds of tourists getting ready to ski. That's when your eyes land on a group of men, all dressed in top notch gear and looking like the leads of a movie. They were talking and laughing, and it was a nice sight to behold. One guy in particular caught your attention - he was so breathtakingly handsome, with a beanie pulled low over his ears and a beautiful smile. He looked so familiar, but you just couldn’t quite place him.

Jennie and Lisa returned with the skiing gear. You didn't know how to ski, so you were skeptical about the whole. But they had already decided to drag you out and teach you, so here you were. You felt like a clown as your legs wobbled and you begged them to let you go. And after some twenty long minutes, you were moving.

But as fate would have it, your trip and tumble into the snow. All you could see were some feet, and you just wanted to die. You found a hand appear in front of you and you then a face.

It was that guy from before. He was crouching in front of you, holding out a helping hand. Blushing, you take his hand and let him pull you up.

'Are you okay?' he asked, giving you a soft smile. His voice.

You nod awkwardly, brushing snow off your jacket.

'I’m fine. Thanks.' You mumble, and look at him with a small smile.

'No problem. I’m Chris,' he said with a grin, offering his hand.

You try to place his accent. It was absolutely sexy and Australian?

'I’m Y/N,' you reply, shaking his hand. His touch sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and you take a step back.

'Nice to meet you, Y/N.' He said, his tone playful and his smile widening.

Your friends were at your side suddenly, apolozing. And Chris watched in amusement as they fussed over you like you were five.

'Stop it! I'm ok.' You said, blushing deeper now. 'I'm sorry. These are my friend, Lisa and Jennie. This is Chris.'

They all say hi and he calls his friends over, and after introductions, you go your separate ways.

Over the weekend, you and Chris kept running into each other. Though the first couple of times it was just plain awkward, you started joking about how you keep meeting each other all the time.

'Lets go grab a coffee, if you're free that is. I think the universe wants us to.' Chris laughs and you nod a quick yes, following him to the cafe. You sit opposite to him and you're smiling like idiots, not really sure what was happening. And then you get talking - you spent hours at the cafe, just having a good time.

It was dark when you both walk back to your cabins. The stars were shining brightly above, and you both gaze at them, wonderstruck.

'This was great, Y/N. I don't think I've had this much fun just talking to someone. It feels like we’ve known each other forever.' He said, his cute smile going right into your heart.

'I feel the same way, Chris.' You blush. 'I've had the best time.'

Chris smiled again, and then took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. You could see that he wanted to say something more, but he was holding back.

'Everything ok?' You ask, a tinge of worry sneaking in.

Chris nods and says, 'Yeah. Yeah, all good. We have a couple more days before we leave. Let's make the most of it, yeah? We can do something together? Make some plans with all our friends or something?'

Your eyes sparkle as you nod.

'I would love that.' You said, feeling a warmth spreading inside you.

'See you in the morning, then.' Chris said, squeezing your hand again. 'Good night, Y/N.'

'Good night, Chris.' You say and wait for him to let go of your hand.

Jennie and Lisa are on top of you as you walk into the cabin, bombarding you with a hundred questions.

'Oh my God, Y/N. He's so fucking HOT.' Lisa squealed. 'How did you -'

'We just had coffee and talked, ok? Just a friendly coffee. Nothing else.' You said, swatting Lisa away. 'He is hot though.'

'Damn right, he is.' Jennie added, smirking.

Chris held your hand, skating backwards slowly, as you tried to move forward. He was laughing playfully at how scared you were and you tug at his hand to make him stop. But you both end up losing your balance and fall on the ice, a giggly mess.

Building snowmen and having snowball fights - you had the best time doing the silliest things with Chris and his friends. Even Lisa and Jennie seemed to be enjoying it a lot.

The day ended with dinner at the resort’s restaurant. You all sat around a big table, indulging in steaming bowls of ramen and yummy honey cakes for dessert. Your heart gripped painfully even as you sat among this noisy group. Chris would be leaving the day after. Just one more day with him, before he would be returning to Seoul.

Jennie noticed your glum expression first from across the table. She caught your before giving you a worried look. You just smile and shake your head, but your best friend knew you better. Late that night, you both sat talking.

'Y/N, I know you think this is silly, but sometimes this is how things happen. You don't have to tell Chris anything now. Take his number or something. Keep in touch. See where it goes.'

'I don't know, Jen. I mean I know him for what, two days? I'm sure he is just being friendly.'

'So what? Is being friends so bad?' Jennie asked.

'I don't know.' You mumble with a pout.

You try to smile and have a good time the next day. You knew you were being silly weeping over a man you hardly knew, but that's just how you felt. Chris lingered close most of the time, before finally sighing and saying, 'Meet me at the hot tub tonight?'

'Hm?' You give him a wide eyed look.

'I want to talk. Just us.' He said. 'Please?'

'Ok.' You reply, nodding.

'9:30 sound good?' He asked.

'Yeah.'

At 9:30 pm, you find Chris already in the hot tub, and you shiver through the steam rising around you. He smiled and held his hand out to you, beckoning you over. You wondered why the hot tub was so mysteriously empty, when the resort was so busy.

You quickly get in and settle down beside him, shoulders brushing.

'You wanted to talk?' You ask, looking at Chris. He turns to face you and you see uncertainty in his eyes. Like he was debating whether this was a good idea or not. You were a bit disheartened by it, but you held on, just because you really like this guy.

'Y/N, before anything, there’s something I should tell you.' Chris said, softly. 'I'm terrified, but, I really really like you and I-'

Your heart skipped a beat.

'Chris, it's ok. Talk to me.' You said, encouraging him to speak.

'I'm part of a K-pop band, and we’re pretty well-known in Seoul. And in other parts of the world. You know...um...' Chris blushed and looked away quickly as if embarrassed. 'I don't know if you really don't know me or if you're just pretending... 'Coz Jennie sure as fuck knows-'

You stare at him, and now that you see him so close and clear, you're sure you've seen that face before.

'Jennie knows?!' You ask, and you look so scandalized, Chris chuckled.

'She does.' He said, nodding. 'She threatened me actually, that if I ever played with your feelings, she would leak our pictures online and you know, oh my God, she's so scary I nearly cried.'

You're staring him with an open mouth.

'I don't know if I should be sorry or proud.' You said with a nervous laugh. 'I'm so sorry, Chris. I'm not into Kpop... shit, I didn't mean to insult you, I mean living with Jen, it's a part of my life, bit I haven't really seen anything-'

'Y/N, it's ok. This is perfect.' Chris said, laughing. 'Its just perfect.'

'Oh my God.' You were starting to panic a bit. 'So you're famous. You're a celebrity? Great.'

'Hey hey, I'm just Chris.' He shrugged.

'Wow - rich, famous and modest.' You joke, making him laugh more. 'So, do you go by Chris or, do you have a Korean name or something?'

'Mhm...Bang Chan. Most of the time.' He replied, nodding, and you draw in a breath.

'Have definitely heard that name before. Yes, Stray Kids.' You cover your face with your hands. 'I'm so embarrassed, Chris. I'm so sorry.'

He just put his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

'You're so cute, Y/N. You're killing me.' Chris mumbled, hugging you tight.

It's so strange that you feel completely at ease in his arms.

'I'll miss you when you go back to Seoul.' You mumble against his chest, putting your arms around him.

Chris sighed, holding you tighter.

'I’ll miss you too, darling. But we’ll keep in touch, right? Calls, texts, anything.' He said, and you feel him place a soft kiss on top of your head.

You couldn't stop the tears from falling as you watched him loading the cab with his things. You sniff and clear your throat, trying to look as normal as you could.

'Yahh, don't be sad, you can always keep in touch.' His friend Minho said with a smile.

'And you can visit us anytime.' Felix added, ruffling your hair fondly. 'Don't cry, sweetheart.'

Chris pulls you into a hug and then as if he was losing his resolve, sighs before taking your hand and pulling you into the building. Pressing you against the wall, he leans close and says, 'Promise me you’ll visit me in Seoul. Tell me, this is not the end.'

You look up at him, tears threatening to spill.

'I promise.'

The next thing you knew, kissing you. His lips are soft, yet demanding and you just pull him as close to you as you could. When he lets go, your breaths mingle, coming out in white puffs in the cold

'I’ll be waiting.' He whispered and you smiled, kissing his cheek.

Your heart hurts as you watch him go, but your friends hug you and you're all laughing as they wiggle their eyebrows at you. You leave for home the next day and fall into your own routines.

You spoke over video calls and texted all the time, so you were quite content. Though you hadn't made anything official, the way he treated you and flirted with you made you feel nothing less. A few months into this, Chris had started asking you to plan a visit to Seoul. You were conflicted because you weren't sure if you could afford such a trip. And everything that came with it. You had been saving up ever since you got back, but you were still unsure.

'Please, Y/N. Come see me, I miss you so much!' Chris whined. 'I want to show you my world.'

'I will, Chris. I just need some time,' you would reply, your heart aching to be with him.

You saw that they were having a comeback soon and they were having so many concerts lined up. This felt like a good time to finally plan something. You brought this up with Jennie and Lisa, asking if they wanted to go with you. Jennie was screaming a big yes, but Lisa apologized and said that she couldn't.

So you and Jennie start planning. Tickets were booked - both flight and concert ones. Then you speak with Minho and Felix to plan a surprise for Chris. You were so excited, but nervous at the same time. This was so new to you, it was overwhelming.

The concert hall was packed with screaming fans and the energy, electrifying. You were sweating and in awe as you watched Chris perform. He was mesmerizing on stage, not to mention, hot. Jennie was screaming beside you, way too excited to be here, and her energy was infectious - you had the best time.

After the concert, you made your way backstage, heart pounding. You meet Minho, who hugs you and takes your hand, leading you in. You could hear Chris's voice, as he told the boys how well they did. Felix saw you and flashed you a grin before looking back at Chris. The rest of the members too glance at you, smiling and waving. Chris turned around with a frown on his face and he froze as he saw you.

He was sweating so much, he was literally drowning in it. Yet, he looked just so beautiful, you wanted to cry. You stare at each other, a lot of emotions crashing in. Chris's expression went from disbelief to pure joy in just seconds.

'No way!!' He rushed to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. 'You came! You came!'

'I promised, didn't I?' You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulled back to cup your face in his hands and then he kissed you. Right in front of everyone. His friends laughed, screaming at you two to take it elsewhere. Laughing, he took your hand and pulled you into his dressing room. The moment the door closed, his lips were on yours again, urgent but tender.

'You have no idea how much I've dreamed of this, baby. You've made my day. Oh my God, I can't believe you're here.'

'Fuck, if I don't get you home right now, I'll just fuck you here.' He growled, standing up quickly and making his way out to call out to Minho. They speak in hushed voices before he takes your hand again. He takes you to his dorm, and he asks you a hundred times if he could fuck you before you just kiss him silent and then he makes love to you.

You end up on the couch, on his lap as he kissed you more. He was so warm after all the dancing, but still seemed to have enough energy for you. His lips left wet kisses on your neck and chest.

He was so shy and giggly, you wouldn't have thought Chris would be like that. Hell, he was even more shy than you were. You lay in each other's arms, kissing very late into the night, just elated that you were finally together again.

Over the next few days, Chris shows you around Seoul whenever he was free. You knew this was a very busy time for him, but he wanted to do everything he could. Most of the time, you just went out to eat and then came back home to make love because he was already crying over the fact that you had to go back home.

Your favorite spot was a cute little cafe near his dorm, where you would go late at night for some snacks. His friends loved you and Jennie so much that sometimes he had to wrestle you out of their company for some alone time.

The day before you had to leave, Chris took to a beautiful view point from where you could see the entire city.

'Baby, I don’t want us to be apart anymore. I mean, it was doable before you came, but I don't think I can anymore. I want you here with me. I know it's a lot to ask, and you take all the time you want to think. But I really really want you to move here, with me.'

You are dumbstruck for a moment. Moving to your current city from home had been hard. And to move your entire life to Seoul? You see the hope and love in Chris's eyes and sigh. You didn't want to spend a minute away from him. But you were so scared.

'I'll think about it.' You hear yourself say.

'I love you, Y/N. And I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my partner.' Chris said, kissing your cheek.

Your heart soar as you say, 'I love you too, Chris, and I want you. I want to be girlfriend.'

You're so happy, you pull him into a tight hug. You kissed under the stars, feeling happy and anxious all at the same time. You were crazy about him, and for now, all you could think of was making this work.

Chris couldn't stop hugging you as you stood in front of the departures gate at the airport. Jennie watched with a little smile on her face as the idol kissed her best friend way too many times.

'Call me as soon as you land. I'll miss you, baby.' Chris mumblee against your hair, and you hum in response, holding on to him.

'I'll come, yeah? Don't worry. I love you, bub.' Chris kissed you one more time before Jennie grabbed you and led you way.

Chris smiled as he watched you go. He knew this was good. He had never been this sure about anything else in his life.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics where one character hates everyone but the other half of the pairing as requested in this ask. You can find part 1 of this rec here. You can find my other fic recs here. Please leave kudos and comments for the writers! Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

❤️ Saving You by Snowy38

(E, 90k, sex work) Harry is being bought by Louis not for the night but for good and his testing ways push Louis to the limit...

❤️ These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, omegaverse) He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega. Now, barely a year after his old man dropped dead and running the family company, if he makes a mistake with the Tomlinson and Sons merger and acquisition, it's game over.

❤️ go ahead, rip my heart out if that's what love's all about (series) by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, small town) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

❤️ Hidden Gardens by pinky_heaven19

(M, 41k, friends to lovers) the one where Louis owns a pub and Harry is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Louis is grumpy, Harry is not. Louis has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff.

❤️ You're Not My Type (still I fall) by Imogenlee / @imogenleewriter

(M, 38k, omegaverse) that was the same stubborn attitude that got him here: in his car, in a thunderstorm, on the side of a forsaken lane of some little countryside town in Yorkshire.

❤️ A Road To Something Better by @taggiecb

(E, 25k, small town) Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. 

❤️ Fate Had Other Plans by Snowy38

(E, 25k, Christmas) Louis Tomlinson books into a remote Ski Lodge in Austria to avoid everyone at Christmas. He is looking forward to his bah-humbug lonely Christmas when Harry Styles 'breaks into' his lodge and ruins his plans with his happy, sociable nature...

❤️ Behind Smoke Stained Curtains by @jaerie

(E, 19k, omegaverse) The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

❤️ When You Know by @allwaswell16

(E, 17k, assassin Louis) Years of living in the shadows has taken its toll on Louis Tomlinson. When he’s offered a chance to leave behind his life as a hired assassin, he intends to take it.

❤️ Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, Christmas) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

❤️ you cured my january blues (yeah you made it all alright) by writtensoul

(NR, 7k, pet store) louis is a lonely old soul with nothing to keep him company but his wild, albeit dry humor - and maybe the pretty boy who works at the pet store down the road. 

❤️ Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

❤️ 'Sno(w) joke by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(NR, 5k, library) The last thing Louis wanted was to get stranded on his birthday. But perhaps it was exactly what he needed.

❤️ i'll breathe your air into my lungs by blizzies

(T, 5k, high school) five phases of their relationship in a world where harry smokes a lot and skips school and hates everyone except his boyfriend and louis is in plays and is loved by everyone and they work even though nobody gets how.

❤️ The Bookshop by Humphrey

(NR, 4k, bookshop) Harry just wants to buy some books. Louis is a very rude bookshop owner.

❤️ Alone and Back Again by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 4k, omegaverse) what does one do when a feral alpha shows up in town ready to be executed?

- Rare Pairs -

❤️ You Should Probably Stay (a Couple More Days) by transteverogers

(E, 8k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is one of the top richest business owners in London but he's also one of the loneliest at just the age of 27. He's grumpy and serious all of the time at work, but when he get home he's sad and desperate for something or more like someone. 

❤️ Kind of Tough to Tell a Scruff (Stand and Deliver) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(M, 4k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) In which Nick moves north and Louis lives next door.

[shogunish]

𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀.

synopsis. “you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

contents. a bit of angst, comfort, miscommunication/lack of communication, implied friends-to-lovers, soft! satoru, takes place after the star plasma vessel incident, satoru's trauma response, unedited, something i whipped up on a whim lmao

wc. 1.3k

note. had a sudden urge to write this when i watched dazai edits and i hope i'll find more inspiration to write like..i just wanna be consistent for once 🥲

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

the inverted spear of heaven was no more.

the star plasma vessel incident — mainly toji fushiguro — had carved its mark into satoru’s flesh. after satoru had killed the man, he had made sure to destroy the cursed tool until not even ashes remained of the sharp blade that used to spill the blood of innocents.

it was almost like the sorcerer wanted to destroy the things that could destroy him.

however, he failed to notice how he had almost destroyed his relationship with you, too.

no longer did satoru wrap you up in his bear hugs. no longer did he let you rest your head on his shoulder on movie night. no longer were you welcome in his space.

always were you kept at an arm’s length. satoru was close enough to admire but so far out of reach like the constellation of stars dotting the night sky. what you thought was no more than a phase turned out to be so much more until, in the safety of your bedroom and underneath your blankets, your vision blurred with tears.

if the sun wasn't there, the moon would remain hidden in the vast void of space. and without satoru, you couldn't shine, either. in fact, your smile dimmed until it was almost extinguished by the pain satoru put you through — but it wasn’t his fault. or so you'd like to tell yourself.

satoru had danced with death when he was meant to only protect a girl.

you couldn't possibly blame him.

after all, you could neutralize the only thing that kept him safe.

the ability to nullify any cursed technique upon touch was as convenient as it was, literally, cursed. with zero offensive abilities, you always relied on satoru or suguru to cover for you in case your plans didn't work out. one miscalculation and your head would roll — that much you knew.

among every student attending jujutsu high, you were the weakest while satoru was the strongest.

it was enough to tie your fate to satoru, weaving a web of complicated feelings which usually tasted like those sugary gummy bears the sorcerer carried with him. it was sweet and warm like his embrace, but the blade of toji fushiguro had effortlessly cut through the fine webs. nothing but a cold void remained where laughter and silly inside jokes about digimon danced along the velvety threads.

almost like a black hole that swallowed the constellation in the skies, leaving behind broken galaxies and lonely stars that swallowed moons to fill the loss of their companions.

“he's so stupid,” you muttered to yourself, threw the teddy bear in your arms into the corner of your bed and sat up to blow your nose.

the teddy bear was a polar bear adorned with button eyes and a red bow tied around its fluffy neck. it looks like you, you had mindlessly said during last year's summer festival. satoru had spent the entire evening shooting little rubber ducks to earn enough points to win the silly bear, but it was worth it for your eyes lit up like the fireworks that followed soon after.

the clock read two am when you poured boiling hot water into a cup of instant ramen, ripped open the package of spice and stirred the meal with disinterest written all over your face. not even the scent of cheap cup noodles made your tummy growl anymore. how could it when it was so full of dread, guilt and worry for the sorcerer who stole your heart and refused to give it back? it was an unfair bargain, really.

just a moment later, you heard a knock on your door. you considered ignoring it and pretending to be asleep, but alas, the lights were on and likely snuck through underneath the crack of the door to your dorm. what kind of idiot knocked on your door at two am?

satoru — the only idiot who'd knock on your door in the middle of the night and look like a kicked puppy.

“satoru? it's two am..,” you spoke first, standing between him and the warmth of your dorm.

satoru didn't look like satoru. even through the pitch black glasses of his shades could you see the storm brewing in those sky-blues of his. with a sigh, he rubbed his neck. “why does everyone keep telling me how late it is? ah, no matter.”

you wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“look, i know it's late, but i can't help but think you've been avoiding me for the last couple of what? weeks? months?” satoru shifted his weight from one fuzzy slipper to the other. “was it something i said?”

in that very moment, you realized you were doing the same things as he was. as soon as class was over, you'd go home alone. you'd have lunch alone. you'd spend your weekends alone. all those things once were shared with satoru in your space, but as soon as he avoided you..you avoided him, too out of fear of getting hurt.

“satoru..don't you realize that you've been avoiding me first?” your voice was quiet as you hugged your middle. “ever since the incident and the destruction of that cursed tool, you always kept me at arm's length. you no longer let me get any closer nor do you spar with me anymore. nothing..”

“you made me feel like i was a threat to you.”

a painful epiphany coiled in satoru's stomach like a snake. was he so busy destroying the devil's tools and refining his technique that he..forgot about about you? the person who'd steal his fries and snore on his shoulder on movie night? no, no way. he would never see you as a threat even though your touch could dissolve his infinity like sugar when it touched water.

“[name], that's not..” the words got stuck in his throat. for the first time in his life, he was speechless. “you are anything but a threat.”

“then why..” tears brimmed your eyes until they overflowed, ran down the apples of your cheeks and met the warmth of satoru’s thumb. it was not his stupid infinity wiping the tears away, but satoru himself.

to be touched by satoru felt like the first sunrays of spring gracing your skin. warm, familiar and hinting at the end of a long, unforgiving winter that had taken root in your belly. soft sobs bubbled in the back of your throat, rocking your shoulders and interrupting every word you wanted to say; how stupid he was, how much you missed him, how much you needed him.

“shh..say no more,” satoru whispered and took you in his strong arms so you could sob into his chest all you wanted.

satoru didn't care about the tears or snot wetting his shirt. all that mattered was the feeling of you in his arms, and even though it pained him to know that he caused those tears, this was better than receiving your cold shoulder and dismissive smiles.

quietly, you and satoru went back inside the warmth of your dorm where both of you shared some cheap cup ramen which satoru spiced up with some peppers, egg and a conversation which neither of you would remember in the morning to come. no amount of time seemed to have passed between you as you both laughed, bickered and exchanged glances like lovers-to-be would.

“what are you doing?,” you asked, long comfortable underneath the sheets of your bed — or you would be if satoru didn't hold them up and almost looked offended by your words.

“sleeping with you, duh,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world and maybe it was.

ignoring your protests and pouts, satoru crammed himself into bed with you, one arm around your waist and the other one underneath your head. his broad chest gently pressed against your back, his warmth enveloped you like a blanket.

“you're stupid,” you smiled to yourself while a blush as red as roses crept up your cheeks.

“and you're lucky i love you,” satoru grumbled underneath his breath, blowing some strands of your hair away from his nose and mouth so he wouldn't suffocate while holding you so tight.

taglist. @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon

[hoonsuniverse]

The Feeling When (TFW) - HIATUS

↳✶ PAIRING - sim jaeyun (jake) x fem!reader

↳✶ SYNOPSIS - y/n and jaeyun hate each other and nobody knows why. y/n is convinced it's bc of what he said about her in their junior year of high school when they were talking but jaeyun says it's bc of something she did. will they ever find out what really happened?

↳✶ GENRE - friends to somewhat enemies to lovers, slow burn, university au, fluff, smut, angst

↳✶ INCLUDES - cursing, smut, weed/smoking(??), kys jokes, mental health problems(such as suicide, anxiety, eating disorder), mentions of addiction, some dark humor(??)

↳✶ CHARACTERS - enhypen ot7, riize seunghan, riize sohee, riize wonbin, ive gaeul, ive yujin, aespa ningning, aespa karina, maybe more added in later chaps

• PROFILES 1 | PROFILES 2

• 01 - so many skies

• 02 - pulling at the stitches

• 03 - play dti w my baddies

• 04 - why is my heart beating fast

• 05 - i got an idea

• 06 - no matter what

• 07 - new music soon?

• 08 - destined to remain

• 09 - insufferable

… & more to come !

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle

a/n: hello my dears! It's me again. I'm back with this story that I hope it will make this looooooong winter break a little more easy to take. I miss cars that do broom broom in weird circles (but I don't miss the Netherlands anthem lol). So yeah, this is a story I'll be posting this winter! And it was Lando who gave me the idea because he went to a ski trip not long ago.

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

“Hey, why don't you come with us to the ski resort?”

“What?”

“Yeah! It will be fun!”

“Oh, okay”

A simple answer. And stupid one, actually. Who wants to go on a trip with their friend and her boyfriend, even if said boyfriend's group of friends will attend too? And to make it worse: who wants to go on a trip where the man you like with is the boyfriend of their best friend? 

Oh, yeah. Me.

But it's just a trip, right? A trip with friends, to have fun in the snow, enjoy the cold weather and all of that… Sounds great, kinda. 

“Fantastic! Then I'm going to tell the guys. Pack warm and cozy clothes, we plan to stay for a week”

Nice, a week where I'll be third wheeling and watching how the man I have a crush on is all cozy with my best friend. 

How funny. What else can happen?

01: It's Begining To Look A Lot Like Christmas

02: Don't Blame Me

03: Let It Snow

04: Point Of No Return

05: Late Night Talking

06: Joke's On You

07: It'll Be Okay

08: Little Talks

09: Adore You

10: Every Breath You Take

11: Lover

12: Delicate

13: Little Life

14: Mastermind

15: This Side Of Paradise

16: You Belong With Me

17: Chanson Triste

18: Run Boy Run

19: Beautiful Things

20: Lonely

21: Dear Reader

Epilogue: Happy Ever After

taglist

@elisysd @racinggirl @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @landoyesrizz @lorarri @bellwhysomean @leptitlu @aphroditeisamilf @brekkers-whore @copper-boom @sideboobrry11 @alltoomaples @f1madison @elijahslover @silkenthusiasts @chonkybonky @summerslike11 @randomgirlnumber-13 @is-just-a @whentheautumnleavesfall @malynn @mycenterfold

[alicerosejensen]

Just headcanons where Leon is almost Sugar Daddy and just a guy who really wants love and care

I try not to deviate from the canon. Leon is even more likely here as an overly caring partner who does not mind the money for his S/O.

Warning: age difference

- The first thing you need to know is that Leon should have feelings for you so that he becomes someone like your patron.

- Among other things, he is well versed in people and wants you to be not indifferent to him, and not see him only as a bag of money.

- He needs your affection.

- He will buy you anything you want, in fact, despite the fact that he gets good money for his work, Leon doesn't spend much of it (apart from alcohol and leather jackets, and I'm sure he has a motorbike), so spending money on you is even a joy for him. No extra questions, you can not tell him anything at all, but just look at some thing in the store, go crazy with the price and leave, so that the next moment Leon grabs your hand and pays for everything that you put your beautiful eye.

- Leon is not embarrassed by your age difference, in fact, sometimes he even laughs at your jokes about being an old man. And no, he is not offended, he just does not have much time to learn about modern trends, fashion and other things, but he will listen to you with pleasure.

- Buys you flowers, or arranges home delivery.

- Leon is a complex and private person. He will never discuss his problems with you, and if you start asking him about it, he will gently push you away, but nevertheless, if you have problems, he will solve everything without hesitation. He took care of you, so this is another duty of his.

- Leon is a very gentle lover, but dominant. In bed with him there will be no particular rudeness and, first of all, he will strive to deliver pleasure to you. No spanking, no biting (I'm sure he has a trigger on them at all), insulting a partner. Only strokes, passionate kisses, perhaps hickeys, praise and teasing. Leon won't mind trying anything new with you, but if it's something that hurts you or him (whether it's short term or not) then he'll immediately refuse. And still, he will insist that you have a stop word.

- He has a lot of psychological traumas including ptsd, so getting back to the topic of sex, Leon wants tenderness in return from you. He likes the warmth of your body and the calm rhythm of your heart calms him. Not immediately, but he will ask you to go to bed with him without clothes so that he can enjoy your warmth and sleep a little peacefully. Leon will be happy if you do not refuse such a strange request. And yes, he loves to be a little spoon, but in moments of weakness, this is vital for him.

- For the fact that you help to survive these constant flashbacks, Leon tries to compensate you with his love and trips to expensive places. If you want, he will gladly take you somewhere for the weekend. Alpine skiing, expensive restaurants and an expensive hotel with a red "do not disturb" sign on the door of the room.

- Usually he is not jealous, but the thought of you leaving for someone else scares him. He has little experience in relationships, so he prefers to ask about what you want and he gives it to you. Do not be shy, just tell him about it, for you he will give you everything.

- From the above, he does not accept any betrayals: neither spiritual, nor even more so physical. It will hurt him too much, so you should not give him a reason to doubt loyalty. He is not paranoid in this regard and will not go crazy with rage just because you are just chatting with a friend you knows from school / college / university / work, but if he notices flirting on your part, then ... no good.

- You are only his girl, he likes to mention it and think about it, but he is also completely your man. No third parties. (sorry Ada he needs a healthy relationship)

- He's not paranoid out of jealousy, but he's paranoid out of your safety. He must make sure that your seat belt is fastened; hold his hand when crossing the road; God forbid you cut yourself or break something. His alarm sensor will simply overwhelm and break to hell.

- He loves to give you lace underwear.

- And glad when you seduce him.

- He will rarely call you by your first name (maybe if only something serious or at the very beginning of a relationship), mostly it will be cute nicknames.

-Don't ask about his work. Even when you are already in a long-term relationship, he still won't tell you much. Unless he works for the government and that's all.

- Leon doesn't want you to work either. He wants you to always wait for him with hugs when he comes home, he will probably even persuade you to leave the job where you are currently working, because he can fully provide for you. However, if you are burning with the ideas of creating a career, he will not interfere with this. Everything for your happiness.

- He likes quiet evenings. Like family with food and TV. In fact, he can play a console with you and probably beat you in some kind of shooter, but he will smile funny when, after successful headshots, you say that you should be taken to the special forces right now.

- Leon loves hugs more than sex.

- You are his spoiled sugar girl, and in this context, he calls you sugar because you are sweet.