#X: I GREW UP TO BE MYSELF BUT STILL I FEEL THERE'S SOMETHING ELSE ( about )

[yaut-jaknowit]

Just wanted to say thank you for writing my ask! <3 I love all your works and when I saw it I got all giddy!

It sounds like you're really busy so don't worry about about continuing! I'm happy with what's written already!! <3

A Total Smash Part 2

Pairings: Dai'stbaen (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, thigh fucking, kinda? dirty talking, P in V, knotting, creampies, hints of breeding (if you squint).

Word Count: 3904

Summary: After your front door was busted down by a bad blood, your house is far too cold to sleep in alone. Dai'stbaen and yourself are forced to share a bed to keep the other alive. The cold is killing even when you are cocooned in by blankets. Dai'stbaen takes it upon himself to make sure you survive. Close contact turns into something else.

Author Note: Alright, I hoped I redeemed myself in this part! I know you didn't ask for a second part but I had someone do It. Plus, I felt a need to finish it off. So, I busted butt and whipped this thing out for you.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

The bed was familiar underneath you; offering relief after a long, hard day. In this moment of time, it didn’t give a sense of ease or content. Your spine was tense from base to head. An alien figure laid next to you, breaths barely heard in the silence of your house. Someone you had only met hours ago and now had to sleep next to for warmth. Anyway to survive the night so you could make it to tomorrow for a trip to town.

Everything felt off. The silence that engulfed the entire house since the heat had been shut off. There was no use of keeping it on. That’ll will only burn out the system and make for a pain in the ass at a later date. You used the blankets to cover yourself more as the biting cold nipped through the ones you already had on you.

Yet, as you laid there longer, the cold grew more and more. Your jaw clenched to stop it from chattering. This night was going to be terrible and long. There wasn’t a chance you could sleep this off until morning.

Movement at your side caught your attention. Before you knew it, a hot, thick arm curled around your abdomen. You froze up more, hands immediately going down to grasp the muscles. The arm tugged you from one side of the bed to the other. A yelp surged past your lips. Your back was pressed against a calming warmth that soaked into your veins. You were already starting to relax when his voice broke the silence.

“There’s no need for you to shiver yourself to death. I will not allow that to happen,” he rumbled above your head. Dai’stbaen cocooned around your much smaller form. His one arm stayed firmly around your torso. The other curled under you to follow the same path as the other.

The blankets that covered him were only three layers thick. His warmth surrounded you and fought off the cold. You scootched closer to him and notched your hips snuggly against his. To keep yourself as tightly pressed to him as possible. You wanted to steal all of his heat for your own, the cold making you bitter. Yet, his warmth was softening you up.

Dai’stbaen tensed behind you, arms locking around your torso. You acted the same, afraid you somehow did something wrong. A deep rumbled poured from his chest.

“Careful.” Short, sweet, but all the threatening. A warning. You shrunk down a little and held your breath. The alien kept his grip on you tight to stop you from moving an inch more. “Stop moving,” he grunted out. One of his hands reached for your jaw and tilted your head to the side. His bright eyes could be seen through the low light of the room.

“S-sorry.” You didn’t know if it was from the cold still nipping at you or the fear that gripped your heart. The longer you laid there, the more freezing your feet got. You tried to hold off since he warned you. But when you began to lose feeling, you pushed them against his shins.

His entire body jerked. His arms completely squishing you to his chest and left no space for even a hair. A growled pierced the air. Dai’stbaen began to move. His body leaned over you and snatched more blankets from your side of the bed. They were tossed over the two of you. You gratefully took them and positioned them more over your legs.

“Better?” His voice was deeper than normal. You hummed and nodded happily. You rubbed your feet against his warm shins and began to get feeling back in them. He grunted, legs twitching for a few times before stopping. “Oomans and their fragileness.” He rewrapped his arm back around you and kept you close as possible to him. You started to relax again.

“It’s not my fault it’s cold,” you pouted and shifted again. His abs tensed against your lower back. “I’m sorry I’m not some furnace of heat.” The dark red alien chuckled then hooked a leg over your hip.

“Oomans are fragile. Yautjas are strong.” You rolled your eyes and huffed. The Yautja chortled and flexed his muscles in his arms. “You are soft and plushy.” Your head jerked back and knocked against his throat. He made choking noise for a moment then growled. You wiggled and struggled against his hold as anger flared through you. That was the last thing you thought he would said to you. Such rudeness!

Dai’stbaen held onto you tightly and tried to rein you back in carefully. “Plushy?! Seriously, that’s what you decided to call me.” At notion of him calling you plushy, you grew agitated. He essential called you fat. 

As a last resort, Dai’stbaen wrapped a hand firmly around your throat. All of your movements stopped. Hips stilling then noticing a bulge pressing against swell of your ass cheeks. “I said… to stop moving,” he snapped, hand twitching around your feeble throat. One wrong twitch could snap your neck like a twig. He wasn’t going to do that but your constant rubbing was clouding his thoughts.

One thing you didn’t expect was to learn aliens had the same anatomy as your own species. You swallowed hard. Idiotically enough, you swirled your hips back. The bulge twitched under your administrations. Dai’stbaen grunted and curled in over you. “You…” the Yautja trailed off, letting his claws bite into the soft flesh of your throat. He knew he could kill you, harm you so easily. It wouldn’t take much to do so.

Alone for so long, you blamed the need swelling in your chest on loneness. It’s been so long since you were held like this, by someone who at least seems concerned about your wellbeing. He didn’t want you to freeze and willingly let you steel his warmth as his own.

It’s been too long.

The smell of your arousal entered the air despite all the blankets that covered your form. He groaned and only rutted his crotch against the plush of your butt. He’s never felt something so soft before. He never knew ooman’s were so soft like this. Or else he would’ve been here long ago.

“Tell me… tell me you want this,” he demanded in a firm tone. The vibrations set across your skin with goosebumps following suit. You took a sharp breath in then keened, hips rocking back against the growing bulge. Dai’stbaen snarled and pinched the sides of your neck, restricting blood flow to your brain. “Words, ooman.”

“Yes!” you choked out and felt the affects of restricted blood flow. The Yautja released his hold the moment you consented to advances.

Sharp fangs scrapped against your neck and shoulder. “C’jit, you… we can’t take the blankets off,” he muttered into your flesh. That’s when you realized he was right. The cold was stronger than ever inside of the house. You wouldn’t survive long out from underneath the blankets.

You lifted a leg and tossed it over his hip, exposing yourself to him. Dai’stbaen’s free hand reached to the crotch of your pants, palming against you. A whiny pant left your chapped, dry lips. Your hips rutted against the palm, the friction barely scratching the surface of your lust. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tried to guide him into your shorts.

Before you had the chance, his other limb snatches your own wrist and pins both of your arms to your chest. “Needy little thing. Gonna hurt yourself doing c’jit like that,” he scolded and firmly presses his middle fingers into your clothed slit. All of your sounds echoed back at you in the bedroom. Only causing your face to build with heat that stung against the cold.

One thing he can’t stop is the movement of your hips. Each drag of your hips on his finger rubs against your clit. It’s a faded friction but a friction, nevertheless. You tucked your chin into your chest and tried to keep any noises to a minimal.

“Dai, I need this. I can’t take the teasing. I want you,” you begged the hulk of a beast behind you. His movements faltered for only a moment. “It’s been too long. I can’t take much more. I need you.”

The Yautja cursed to himself silently. Your begging was music to his ears. These missions have been hard on him. To finally have something to relieve his stress out on. Someone so small and fragile. Dai’stbaen didn’t want to break you. He was in debt to you twice due to his honor code. He vowed to take care of you in any means possible. This was a win-win situation for him too.

“I will,” he promised and let that hand down south slip down passed your waistband. “I will. Just need to prepare your tiny body for me. Gonna be a tight fit. I’ll make it fit. Treat you so good, little ooman.” His voice hovered next to your ear, making your arms break out in more goosebumps. You shuttered and leaned back against him, head thrown back with the little space offered.

Coarse finger pads slipped between your wet folds, skimming over your engorged clit. You felt nearly the same as a Yautja female with only one clit though. One point to focus on. Dai’stbaen could do that.

He soaked his fingers in your slick before back enough so the rough finger pad of his middle digit was rubbing against you. Your arms strained against his hold. Your first reaction was to cover your mouth to prevent all these pathetic little noises to escape.

“Sh-shit,” you cursed, thigh muscles clenching. Then, you let your lifted leg fall down to trap his hand in place. “Keep doing that. Keep touching me like that.” You felt so strung up after so long without someone else to do this with.

He felt relieve and pride for doing this right without knowing how to work a ooman’s body like this. He took this knowledge and swiped up a little more slick to coat your throbbing clit. Your inner thigh muscles clamped down, hips twitching in a wild manner. In such a way, neither of you knew if it was to jerk away from the overwhelming pleasure or demand more.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach tightened. Your eyes clenched closed. “Fuck, I-I’m gonna… come,” you gasped out and felt the semi-familiar throb in your empty cunt. Your muscles clenching around nothing, desperate for something to fill you.

Teeth pinched at the crook of your neck. Not piercing the skin but enough to send the idea of being dominated straight to your brain.

White overcame your vision. You felt like you were floating the middle of space, free from your body. A scream left your throat but you couldn’t hear, only feel the vibrations. The alien growled against your back and tightened his hold around you. Your entire form twitched when you came back to it. The warmth and strength of him kept you grounded. His tongue licked up a stripe up your neck to the back of your ear. The pleasure never ending, fingers forcing you to take and take.

“C’jit, sei-i. You like that? Yeah, you do. Needy thing coming over my fingers. Gonna fuck you.” When the ringing in your ears finally disappeared, his voice could be heard growling into your ear. Some of his words, you didn’t understand. You took it as if the orgasm still ran its course through your body.

That same hand left the warmth and wetness between your legs to grasp the waistband of your pants. You didn’t have time to ask him what he’s doing. Dai’stbaen rips the cloth straight off of you. A gasp left your lips. His touch left your skin to reach between the two of you. The Yautja messed with own pants until you felt something hot and heavy touch at your lower back. It was wet and soaked into your shirt.

Dai’stbaen pulled his hips back and lined the tip at the apex of your closed thighs. Your muscles clenched at the feeling of this big, thick shaft touching your exposed skin. The head pushed forward and slid between your thighs. The top of it rubbing against your wet folds, skimming over your clit. You moaned and leaned your head back, throat exposed to him.

By the feel of him, he was large. It matched his stature.

A slickness coated him and eased the thrusts between your legs. “Pauk, this feels good, little thing. Gonna use you. Gonna pauk-de use you like the needy ooman you are. Desperate for alien cock.”

Both of his hands go to grip your hips and helped steady you. With your own free now, you reached back behind your head to dig your nails into the back of his neck. The rubbery dreads touched at your skin. You even pulled at one to see his reaction.

He snarled deep from his chest and snapped his hips harshly against yours. If it wasn’t for his hands, you would’ve been nearly flung off the side of the bed. The skin stung from the thrust, heat blooming to life.

“By Paya’s name, do that again.” Instead of clawing at his neck, you tugged on another tress. His pace quickened. The wet slapping of skin against skin could be heard even under all the blankets. All of this movement making you sweat. Drops forming across your skin. You were thankful for the heat that raced through your veins.

Your other hand glide down from your midriff to right above the apex of your thighs. Carefully, you made a circle out of your hands and found where what felt like half of him poked out from your thighs was. The head was pointed and slid through the hole you made. Each thrust, you squeezed the head in your hand.

The growls and hisses that left his throat were music to your ears. It was beauty to reduce a man of his stature to a panting, whining mess just by using your thighs. You started to rock with his motions, meeting him at the halfway point. The slapping of skin only grew louder. Your skin stinging only added to the pool growing in your belly and between your legs.

There was plenty of slick oozing from your cunt to make his ruts smooth as silk. With the hand between your legs, you helped angle him upwards to add pressure to your clit. You tugged on his tresses again at the increased pleasure. “Oh fuck,” you cursed again, toes curling on his skins. “I-I can’t believe y-you’re thigh fucking me.”

His claws dented the skin on your hips. A couple of them piercing the flesh and drawing blood. The pain was easily forgotten about. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he panted back. His jaw clenched and dug his fangs deeper into the crook of your neck. “Too big. Have to compromise.”

Underneath the blankets, it was incredibly hot. You almost wanted to rip them off so you could ride him. You didn’t care if he was too big. Who would pass up an incredible opportunity to get bulldozed by an alien of his size.

His thrusts began to grow sloppy, his growls only increasing in volume. The knot in the pit of your stomach only tightened at the thought. You pulled again on the dread and kept pulling. “I don’t care of you’re too big. I need you inside. At least the tip, please. C-can’t get the blankets dirty,” you tried to reason with him. Even if it was only the tip. Anything to feel his girth stretch you wide. Anything to come on, to squeeze around.

Another growl tumbled from his throat. “Are y-you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” Dai’stbaen had to make sure as his orgasm started to cloud his thoughts. You were ooman. Small, weak. He didn’t want to hurt or break you. He owed you his life, twice. But, he wouldn’t say he didn’t want to enter you, stretch your small cunt to fit him. Pauk, he really wanted to now.

“Yes, please!” you whined and started to guide the tip towards you soaked entrance. He slowed his thrusts to a stop and grasped the base of his cock to help. The pointed head speared between your folds. Dai’stbaen rutted forward twice, missing your pussy. Until the third time, he sunk home.

Only the head was able to fit snuggly inside of you. You shout his name. Your back arched off of his torso, hips angled down and pushed in an inch more of him.

The alien was panting, doing everything he can to stop from himself from fully sink down to the base. You squeezed him perfectly. The warmth of your pussy was like the best hunting grounds to him. He bit down harder on your neck, not regretting when he heard your whine.

It felt like he was stretching you to the limit. This was exactly what you needed. It’s been far too long since you had someone to do this with. He was hitting the right spot inside of you, making stars appear in your vision.

Your fingers instantly started to swirl around your throbbing nub. Careless mewls poured from your lips like a waterfall. You didn’t care if he heard them anymore.

Pleasure soaked in every corner of your body. You couldn’t even think at this point. Once he was inside and rubbing firmly against your g-spot, that’s when it was all over for you.

Dai’stbaen started to shallowly thrust, trying to be mindful of not to push too far in. Every rut, everything second passing, he was slowly losing his ability to think. He wanted nothing more to pin you down and fully thrust into you. You could take it. Pauk, he was trying so hard.

“Go-gonna come again!” you warned and kept your hips angle. You worked with him and returned to meeting his thrusts. Everyone, it felt like he was going just a centimeter deeper, reaching for your cervix. You were desperate to make that happen.

He felt the way your muscles throbbed hard around him, signaling your end. An end that will trigger him. The Yautja pulled his mouth back enough to rest his closed mandibles in the same spot. He didn’t want to take a chunk out of you if he could help it.

“Yeah? Pauk-di do it. Squeeze my cock needy thing. Needing a cock to come on.” It’s not like he was in a better headspace either. He tensed his jaw, eyes closing to focus solely on you. “Come on. Come all over my pauk-di cock!”

The vibrations his demand sent down your spine had you crying out. Your hips jerked harshly back and forced half of his cock inside of you. Dai’stbaen sputtered as his first instinct was to thrust all the way forward. The knot at the base of his cock barely popped in and formed just on the inside of your muscles. You cried out beautifully and arched against him. He held onto you tightly and curled around you.

His warm seed filled you, making a mess inside of you. You whined and panted; eyes closed as you weakly rested on the bed. Your energy was long lost. Your entire body was buzzing with dopamine.

Dai’stbaen held onto a thread of his sanity. He’s never felt such a vice grip around him, such warmth that welcomed him in. You’ve ruined him for anyone else. How else was he supposed to back to the mothership when he knows this? He knew his claws were hurting you but your lax body was a sign you didn’t even feel it.

The alien groaned into the crook of your neck and released his bruising grip on your hips. He lets one arm drape over your torso. The other stretches out on the bed.

Your walls kept pulsing around his sensitive knot and causing him to jerk. Each move made him move his hips closer, seemingly pushing the ball of flesh more into you.

When you finally settled, the Yautja followed suit. His were closed, basking in the aftermath of a universe rocking orgasm. Pauk, he might just take you with him. He’ll do anything to keep you at his side. Maybe… even have you carry his pups. C’jit, he shouldn’t think that while still inside of him.

Once the rush began to fade and letting you finally feel the situation you were in, you whimpered at the singing pain between you legs. Your hands weakly grasped at the sheets in front of you and attempted to pull yourself away from him. A snarling, threatening growl left his throat. Both arms encircling your torso and keeping you pressed to him. Trapped.

“Stay.” A dark tone to carry out the words.

Yet, with the pain evident between your legs, you couldn’t help but to move. Squirming only made it worse, seemingly pulling something too big lodged inside of you.

“Hurts,” you whined and accidently clenched around the shaft stuck deep inside of you. The Yautja groaned and dragged his claws against your side.

He used his mandibles to pinch the crook of your neck. Your body reacted by stilling under the instinct of his dominance. “I know. I’m sorry. Don’t move. It makes it worse.” Dai’stbaen let go of your neck to lick at the sweat dripping down your skin in a caring manner. “I have a knot. I didn’t mean to… knot you, little one. Just don’t move. It’ll go down on its own.”

Your eyes snapped open. The room was still dim; the only light coming from the snow outside. Did he just sat knot? Like… a dog? You shuttered but did as what you were told.

As time passed, the stinging lessened. Your body growing used to the stretch and accommodating it. Soon enough, it started to feel good, completely pressed against your g-spot like that. You stayed skill though and let the flesh decrease in size. Until it was small enough for it pop out of your abused hole. You clenched your thighs together to prevent any of it dripping down onto the bed and ruining your sheets.

He nuzzled against your shoulder and gave you mock kisses. One of his hands petted down your side. “Did so well, little ooman. Keep it inside like that,” he muttered into your skin. The alien moved around as if he searching for something. His hand grasped an item under the blankets and pushed it between your legs. It was your ripped off shorts. He used them to help trap his seed inside of you and clean the mess up a little.

“Hm, perfect.” His softening cock seemed to disappeared from between the two of your bodies. In you hazed state, you couldn’t care less about it and stayed on your side. The heat the two of you produce was enough to make you continuously sweat under the blankets. But, you refused to take anything off. Just encase the night grows colder.

Pain was evident in your sore body. You turned your head and pressed a chaste kiss against mandible. Dai’stbaen paused in shock before deeply purring and gathering you in his arms for the night. Nothing would or could get to you.

[reminiscingtonight]

Imaginary (Girl)Friend

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

[WOSO Masterlist]

You never talk about Leah. 

She’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you think to tell anything to. But you still never talk about Leah. 

You don’t talk about the fact that the two of you grew up together. Or that she prefers the crust cut off her plain ham sandwiches. Or how she stays up late just to call you even after playing a late night game away from home. 

You never talk about Leah because no one knew who she was. To you, she’s the most amazing person you know, the only person you’ll ever give your heart to. To everyone else, she’s simply another nameless face on another football team. 

And then the Euros happened.

The Euros happened, England won, and everyone started noticing Leah.

It’s hard at first. To watch your normally shy girlfriend have to shoulder the constant attention from both fans and media alike, to go from unknown to stopped every five seconds for a picture. Where Leah once held your hand while strolling on Sunday walks now became group outlettings lest you manage to secure an indoor date somewhere secluded.

Leah didn’t want you being dragged to national attention with her, and after watching the toll it took on her, you meekly agreed. While Leah became a professional footballer, you went to college, got a job, and now work a normal 9 to 5. Being famous for any reason, let alone dating someone famous, was something you never had an interest in.

So no, you don’t talk about Leah the footballer.

Leah the girlfriend however… you talk about her quite too much. 

But your friends always let you gush your heart out about the girl who’s had your heart since you were teenagers.

It’s friends like these that you treasure. They never push too hard, understanding when you skirt around bringing your girlfriend out to public events with large crowds. A couple of them are newer to the group, friends from work, but still respectful all the same.

Some of you even formed a recreational futsal team, just something to do after work once a week. It’s fun, getting to use some of those football skills you’ve acquired through your childhood playing on youth teams. 

Today’s one of those days. After wrapping up the last of your paperwork, you all pile into a car and make your way to the community center. 

The first half goes by quickly, not really memorable in any way.  

You’re taking a quick water break during half-time when one of your friends suddenly stiffens. 

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see her eyes widen at a spot over your shoulder. 

“What?” you ask, alarmed, trying to see what she’s looking at. But two hands on your shoulder stops you quickly, jerking you right back to face her.

“Don’t look, but I think a couple of the Lionesses are sitting in the bleachers, watching our game.”

You almost trip ripping yourself out of her grip, doing the exact opposite of what she just said.

Sure enough, you can spot the Three Best Friends huddled near the back of the bleachers, baseball caps and hoodies on as if that combo would actually help someone go incognito.

Almost as if she can feel your gaze, Leah’s face brightens, resting scowl turning into a grin as she waves at you. Before you can so much as react, a hand on your arm spins you back around.

“Oh my god, what are we going to do? I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the Leah Williamson, Keira Walsh, and Georgia Stanway!”

You snort, gently shaking her hands off. “First off, it’s just rec futsal. If we lose it’s nothing that life ending. Also, we can always blame it on the court if we play poorly.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but the whistle from the ref calls before you can convince her some more. 

Taking your spot on the court again, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. With the constant attention and numerous commitments clogging up your girlfriend’s schedule, it’s been a while since Leah’s come to one of your games. 

And so what if you end up showing off a little bit? Your girlfriend is here watching and you’re only human.

By the time the game ends, your team is up by six, four scored by you.

“God damn, we should try to invite the Lionesses out every week if you’re going to ball out like that when they’re here,” Riley jokingly complains, laughing when you shove her back playfully.

“Speaking of the Lionesses…”

Spinning around you see your girlfriend and her friends starting their descent down to the court. You skip to meet them halfway, ignoring the awestruck looks coming from all around. 

Leah gives you a quick hug before pulling back, mindful of prying eyes. 

“Leah! What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to surprise my girl,” she mumbles, cheeks burning bright red as she instinctively pulls her cap down tighter on her head. “That’s okay right? I just haven’t seen you play live in a while and I--”

“Of course it’s fine.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt a bit by how wide you’re smiling.

You turn quickly to her two friends by her side. 

“Happy to see you guys too! Thanks for coming out.”

Georgia and Keira exchange devilish grins before each throwing an arm around your shoulders. 

“We would’ve come out to a match sooner if lovergirl over here hadn’t gatekeeped when your games were.”

Keira nods dramatically. “It was like pulling teeth with this one, trying to convince her to let us tag along today. You’d almost think she wanted us to forget she had a girlfriend.”

Leah rolls her eyes at the accusations. “A). I wasn’t gatekeeping. B). It was like pulling teeth today --- you wouldn’t give me a moment of peace until I agreed. And C). If I wanted you to forget I had a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“Pshh, as if you could make us forget our favorite Milton Keynes native. We’d choose her in the divorce,” Georgia quips, ignoring the eyebrow Leah raises her way.

Before the three of them can get in a shoving match, you suddenly remember your friends that you’ve left behind.

“Wait, let me introduce you guys to my teammates.”

Your friends look shell-shocked, eyes darting between you and the little posse of professional footballers you’ve amassed around you when you return. 

“Guys, this is my girlfriend Leah and her two friends.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Then a whispered, “why are you introducing three Lionesses to us as if you have dinner together on the regular?” Riley honestly looks like she’s about to pass out, but you decide to humor her a bit.

“Because I do? Keira and G come down sometimes during breaks, and I do live with Leah. So…” 

Your explanation seems pretty straightforward to you, but if anything, it only makes things more confusing for your friends.  

They exchange looks with each other before Riley cautiously asks, “You were being serious about that?”

It’s your turn to be confused, face scrunching up. “What do you mean?”

“Well you kept talking about your mysterious girlfriend Leah without ever introducing us to her…”

“Or showing us a picture,” another voice adds on, trying to be helpful.

“We just kinda assumed Leah wasn’t real,” Riley finishes off lamely.

You roll your eyes, elbowing your girlfriend when you feel Leah snort next to you.

She recovers quickly, giving your friends a smile. “Well rest assured, the girlfriend is very much real. It’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Leah.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

I’ll Crawl Home To Her (Azriel x Reader) 

AN: This was supposed to be based off But Daddy I Love Him but it morphed into something else but I'm kinda happy about it.

Summary: The story of how the princess of Velaris and the shadowsinger came to be.

Warnings: blood, injury, dickhead dads, bit of smut but it's not too descriptive (It's for the plot), angst, fluffy ending.

Word count: 8053

As a princess I was told that “hate” is a very strong word. Consequently, there weren’t a lot of things that I hated. For example, I greatly disliked when my tea came with too much milk, and I absolutely despised corsets. But if there was one thing I hated, and I mean truly hated, it was my father. 

If it wasn’t for the way he treated my mother and older brother then it would be the way he treated me. How he kept me from my beloved, my brother's best friend, the shadowsinger, my Azriel.  

Azriel had been mine long before my father ever knew about it. When I grew to be 207 my mother finally convinced my father to let me go to Windhaven with her to visit Rhys. I hadn’t seen my brother in years, as he had begun training with the Illyrians. 

He wrote me letters of course, detailing friends and enemies he made along the way. Two of which stood out to me, Cassian and Azriel. However these letters never made up for him in the flesh, which is why during my first trip to Windhaven I had never been so excited. To this day I still remember it…

The winter wind stung my cheeks as snow clung to the furs of my cloak. It was as if no matter how many layers I wore the wind found its way to barrel through and nip at my skin. 

I found myself walking along the edge of the camp, where the light of the fires couldn't reach me and only the moon gave me the ability to see. When my mother and I arrived at the little cabin Rhys was not there, after speaking to Devlon we found he was on assignment and would be home soon. 

After a few hours in the cabin I began to feel claustrophobic, so I took a walk around the heavily wooded area. There was something magic about the first snow of the season. The way the snow covered the ground and crunched under my boots. White capped trees that looked like they were frosted by the gods, and the still silence that came from the insulation the blanket of white provided.  

“It’s a little cold out don’t you-” a voice crooned behind me and stopped abruptly as I turned to face him. 

Standing frozen just a few feet from me was an Illyrian male with his mouth agape at the sight of me. He was large, his wings the biggest I had ever seen. Inky black hair framed his carved face as his hazel eyes frozen in shock as if he had just seen a ghost. 

“Forgive me,” he said, shaking his head a bit, as if to clear the fog from his mind. “It’s just that I don’t see many beautiful things up here, you startled me.” 

My cheeks flush and I pray he thinks it's from the cold and not the butterflies in my stomach. 

“I find that hard to believe when this is your view,” I smile, gesturing to the snow valley below us. “There’s nothing more beautiful than the first snowfall of the year.”

Footsteps crunch behind me as he comes up on my right, “Perhaps, but it pales in comparison to you,” he smirks and this time I know he can tell he’s the reason my cheeks are pink. “Might I have the honor of knowing your name?” 

I turn to meet his gaze once more but before I can answer back I hear a shout coming from far away. 

“Y/N!” my brother shouts charging towards me. 

“Rhys!” I call back running into his embrace. 

He lets out a groan as I leap into his arms, a pile of furs and wool as I pull him into me. The scent of sea salt and citrus filling my nose, the warmth of him seeping through my clothes. 

“Ahh little sister I’ve missed you,” Rhys says, setting me down to get a good look at me. 

“Little sister?” called the male behind me, his snow crunching footsteps coming towards Rhysand and I’s side. 

“It seems you’ve already met her, this is my little sister,  y/n.”Rhys beams, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Y/n this is my very good friend, Azriel.” 

“Azriel,” I blink, holding out my hand for the shadowsinger to shake. How had I not realized? Rhysand’s letters spoke of his shadowsinger friend, now that I looked at him, and I mean really looked at him, I could see the dark matter swirling around him. 

“Princess,” he says, bowing his head and pressing a kiss to my hand. “It is an honor to meet you. You’ll have to forgive my previous informality, I didn’t know who you were.” 

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh behind me, “Azriel my friend there is no need for such formalities, in fact my sister detests them.” he smiles. 

“It’s true, you can just call me y/n, I’m sure that we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other in the years to come.” I smile hoping I was speaking the truth into existence. 

“Come, mother has made dinner for all of us and you have yet to meet Cassian,” Rhys said enthusiastically, throwing an arm over my shoulder. 

From that day forward I found myself spending more and more time at Windhaven, in hopes of seeing Azriel. Sometimes I would see him for only a minute or so, other times he would be able to stay and have dinner with my mother, myself and of course Rhys and Cass. 

Those were always my favorite nights when he and I would share stolen glances across the table. Sometimes we might brush hands reaching for the carafe of wine, other times I would feel his boot brush my ankle under the table. Both of us danced around the other like flickering flames. 

It wasn’t until a few years later when all three of them conquered the blood rite that Azriel and I were finally able to admit our feelings for one another…

We stood behind one of the many rows of cabins, the sound of laughing warriors celebrating their victories or mourning their losses ran through the camp. Before he even spoke I knew why he asked me to meet him back here, I could feel the tension between us both. 

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care about you. I’m tired of saying “nothing” whenever Rhys and Cassian ask me what’s on my mind. I’m tired of trying to hide that everytime I come back to camp that I’m looking for you and hoping I can see you for just one second. I’m tired of pretending I don’t love you,” Azriel confesses, caging me against the back wall of a cabin. 

“Azriel I-” I begin but he cuts me off.

“When we were on the mountain, there was a moment where there was a dagger to my throat and I thought I was going to die. I thought I would leave this world without telling you how much I loved you. If it wasn’t for Cassian that would’ve been the case. I won’t make the same mistakes twice,” he finished. 

“Azriel, I love you too,” I shuddered a sigh, aware of how close he was to me. 

The second the words left my mouth he was on me, large hands encircling my waist as I felt every inch of his body pressed against mine. His breath was hot on my face, contrasting the bitter cold of the night air.  

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed,  lips mere inches from mine. 

“Please,” I begged, but once again the word hung in the air for mere seconds before his mouth was on mine. 

Every part of it felt so right. His hands on my waist, my fingers in his hair, his lips on mine claiming me in a way that made my head spin. My arms pulled him as close as possible, needing to feel him, smell that scent of rain, leather and whatever intoxicating cologne he was wearing.  I was so drunk on him that I was shaken when I heard a hearty laugh ring out through the camp. 

I pulled back immediately realizing what was happening, “Oh my gods, we can’t do this here, my brother he-” 

“Shhh, shhh,” he cooed, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. “I talked to Rhys about it, I have his blessing to court you. He took it rather well, he actually seemed excited.” Azriel laughed, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he held me closer, his body blocking the wind from seeping into my clothes. 

“Oh Azriel,” I smile, kissing him hard as I feel him lifting me into the air, my head spinning just as fast as he spun me. 

We spent the rest of that night lying on a blanket in a field away from the world. The sound of distant celebrations making us laugh every now and then. At some point I could’ve sworn I heard Cassian singing a tale of an old drunk warrior.

I had tried to tell Azriel that he should join his brothers in their celebration but he insisted that he would much rather spend his few moments of peace with me. It was one of the best nights of my life. 

Our relationship was kept secret from everyone but Rhys and Cassian. Even my mother, who always accompanied me to Windhaven, was kept in the dark. No one with close ties to my father could know. That being said, it was hard for Azriel and I to find quiet moments together. 

Most of the time we met in the woods behind camp. Azriel would go away and bring me little trinkets, pretty rocks and feathers he found while in the mountains. In the spring he always came with a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. We always ended up making out and getting carried away, on more than one occasion I tried to take things further but he never let me. 

“I won’t have the first time I bed you in the woods. You’re a princess, you deserve a soft bed to be worshiped on.” 

Was what he always said to me. While I appreciated the sentiment, I couldn’t help but wish for more. 

It wasn’t until a few months later that I finally saw an opening. Father and mother were going to be at a meeting in the Winter Court, leaving Velaris in the care of Rhys. More importantly the cabin at Windhaven would be empty. That night was truly the best night of my life.

My back hits the warm sheets below me as Azriel looks at my bare body with hungry eyes. I had never been with a male before, my father and mother dead set on having me intact for whatever husband they shackled me to. But Azriel would be my husband, even if he wasn’t noble or the son of a High Lord he was mine, and I was his. I didn’t care how many rules I had to break to have him. 

“My beautiful, beautiful princess,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to my neck. 

His hands wander the expanse of my bare skin, both warming and leaving goosebumps wherever they trail. I arch my back into him, needing more, needing the very essence of him branded into me. 

“Azriel I need more,” I breathe tugging on the ends of his hair. 

He had already stripped me bare and kissed every square inch of me before falling to his knees and feasting on me like I was his last meal. I had read about such sinful touches before, dreamt about experiencing those sensations with him at night. None of it compared to the real thing. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asks me once more, brushing the hair from my face. 

“I’m sure, I want it to be you,” I nod running my hands through his hair again. 

The wild twinkle in his eyes was enough to make my toes curl as he smiled at me, “I promise to be gentle, to make you feel good,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my lips. 

“I trust you Az,” I nod and his lips kick up again at his nickname. 

I feel him nudge and my entrance and my breath hitches as he inches himself inside. The stretch was painful, but the sting faded as he peppered kisses all over my face, whispering sweet nothings to me.

“Shh you’re doing so well princess…”

“You’re so beautiful…” 

“Can you feel me? Can you feel us?” 

“I love you…” 

I must’ve seen stars a million times that night. His gentle nature only made me fall deeper in love with him. It wasn’t the brutal fucking I had heard about in taverns and from drunk men at balls. He had taken his time, and been even more gentle than he had promised me. 

We made love a dozen times that night. Kissed and touched and worshiped until I fell asleep, bathed and warm in his arms.

The next morning was hard to face. Knowing we had to leave the cabin and act as if we didn’t spend the entire night exchanging souls, and tangled in eachothers arms. 

Az especially was on edge, so much so that when a younger male offered to tie my boot for me Azriel marched over and pushed him into the mud before pulling my foot onto his bent knee and tying it himself. 

Of course I yelled at him for being an Illyrian baby while Rhys and Cassian laughed and poked fun at their friend. Azriel just huffed and shot a warning glance at the poor male who had tried to tie my boot. 

From there on out we spent every possible moment together. I would tell my father that I was visiting friends in other courts just so I could see Azriel, which wasn’t often. As the war between humans and fae grew more iminanent I saw less and less of the shadowsinger. Our meetings became more fervent, and well…passionate. We became careless and it’s what ended up tearing him away from me for good.  

My back was pressed against the cabin wall, my hands pinned by my head as Azriel’s lips consumed mine. We had no longer than an hour together before he would be set back to scout for Hybern’s troops, but we intended to make the most of it. 

“I missed you,” he breathed into my neck. 

“I missed you too, two weeks is too long,” I murmured, breathing in his scent. He always left me one of his many shirts to sleep in but it never did compare to the real thing. 

“I don’t have much time, they’re sending me to the border to scout for Hybern’s troops,” he says in between kisses. 

Scarred hands drift over my waist and graze my bum as I feel him collecting fist fulls of my skirt. Before my dress can be pushed up much further than my knees the door to the cabin barges open, startling both of us. Azriel  placed his hand on one of the daggers strapped to his side, but not even he could defend me from who stepped through the threshold. 

“What the hells is going on here?” My father’s voice boomed from the doorway, the cold air from outside seeping into the place that was once our own. 

I peek out from behind Azriel’s shoulder to find not only my father but Lord Devlon standing before us. My fathers eyes locked on mine, and white hot fear seared my nerves. 

“What are you doing with my daughter?!” My father roared, his power slamming Azriel aside. 

“Father no!” I scream, clinging to his arm to interrupt his antics. 

Devlon screamed for backup to come as Azriel’s feet hit the floor again. The commotion outside beginning to stir. 

“My lord, I-” Azriel starts to explain but my father cuts him off. 

“You will not speak unless spoken to, you bastard born brute!” my father screams as Devlon’s men come to detain the Shadowsinger. 

“Father stop it! He didn’t take advantage of me, we’ve been seeing each other.” I plead with my father as tears start to well up in my eyes. 

“What?!” he scoffed, looking at me like I was a common whore. “You are promised to one of the sons of Spring and yet you soil yourself with filth of his kind?” 

“He’s not filth. He’s Rhys’ friend, and he’s good, brave and kind.” I beseech him as I hear Azriel struggle against the men who have him bound.

My father takes a deep breath and turns his gaze from me. The sound of his boots crossing the wooden floors to stand before Azriel are the loudest most impending sound I had ever heard. He stands before my shadowsinger before raising his hand and letting his fist collide with that beautiful face I had spent so long kissing. 

My gasp reverberates through the room but Azriel doesn’t make a sound, as if he’s challenging my father, or proving his worth. 

“What should we do with him?” my father asks, not taking his eyes off Az. 

“The boy has completed the rite, we can send him to one of the battalions on the border. Perhaps the trash will take itself out,” Devlon laughs. I had known that the Lord had a chip on his shoulder for my brother and his friends. But sending him to the slaughter? 

“Father please I love him!” I cry falling to my knees before my father, grasping his hand. I would never beg my father for anything, never fall to my knees for anyone. But for this I would… for Azriel, I would die on my knees. 

Despite my pleading my fathers gaze never falters from where it is fixed on Azriel. As if he’s trying to decide if he should slit his throat now or let him die on a battlefield. Azriel’s face remains steadfast and strong, showing no signs of weakness, like he will accept whatever punishment befalls him with the grace of a warrior.

“Send him,” he says resolutely before turning away. 

“NO PLEASE!” I beseech as my father hauls me to my feets again, but my knees are giving out under me. 

“It is done,” his gruff voice says in my ear as I watch them haul Azriel to his feet. “One day you’ll thank me.” 

I watch as they pull Azriel toward the door. Dragging him unnecessarily letting his wings drape across the ground. It was all happening so fast and could be the last time I ever saw his face.

“Let me say goodbye! Please let me say goodbye!” I shouted thrashing in my fathers grasp. Needing to touch Az one last time, needing one more moment with him. 

Azriel’s eyes were frantic as he heard my screams, as he watched my father use his strength to detain me.  

“Listen! Listen!” he called trying to get me to stop my frantic blubbering, the guards pulling him out the door. “You have to be strong princess. I love you , and I will find you again, if not in this life than in the next!” he shouts as he is hauled past the threshold of the cabin. 

“Azriel!” I scream, my voice cracking under the weight of my tears. 

“I love you!” he shouts again from the outside of the cabin. 

“I love you!” I call back to him, not knowing if I’ll ever get another chance to say it. 

That was six months ago...

Since then the war had gotten more and more bloody, and unavoidable. As far as I knew Azriel was still alive. I hadn’t seen him since the night he was ripped from my arms, a night I often had nightmares about. I sent him letters whenever possible and every so often I would get one back. 

I could tell he had tried to send more, as every date on the ones that did make it through were skewed. The most recent one, dated two months ago, burned a hole in the pocket of my dress. The folds were so worn from reading  that I feared they may fall apart the next time I opened it. 

My love, 

I am alive and well, though my battalion has suffered great losses. More and more Illyrians are sent to the frontlines every day to take the place of the dead. There are times I wonder if a wide eyed recruit will ever take my place…

At night I lie in bed and dream of you lying next to me, your warmth. Or the way your hair looks sprawled in swirling over the green grass when you’re under me. The sound of your voice calling my attention. The softness of your hands. The night you came undone for me in the cabin.

 My only consolation is that when I look up at the night sky. I know you are looking at those same stars. And if what I’m doing is keeping you safe. Keeping you fed and swathed in those blue silks that drive me crazy. Then I will sleep in this tent and fight alongside my peers happily. My love is safe and warm because of me. 

I love you, and I will return to you. 

Yours eternally, 

Azriel

I fold the tattered parchment with gloved hands and tuck it securely into the pocket of my dress. The shouts of men and the clash of swords outside my tent drown out the peace I had struggled to preserve. 

Hybern’s army had marched on Velaris and while the border hadn’t been breached, my father decided it was unsafe to leave my mother and I there. My mother was sent to a camp with my father where he would watch over her, I was sent to Rhys’ camp.

 The flap of the tent is thrown open, my brother charges in wearing his leathers, his hair disheveled and a letter in hand. 

“What is it?” I stand upon seeing the worry gracing his face.    

Armies had been marching upon another camp a few miles away. If they had breached the encampment that would mean they were coming for us next. We would have just minutes to evacuate and find a safe place. 

“The men were able to hold the front lines,” he says, setting down his swords with a sigh that told me that there was still news to be revealed. 

“Then what is it?” I asked quietly, unsure of whether or not I wanted to know the truth he had to say. 

Violet eyes met my own, in them, a sorrow and worry I had not yet seen from my brother, “It’s Azriel.” he said. 

My heart stopped and my world quieted as I perched myself on a nearby chair, not trusting my legs to keep me upright. Not when my heart lay in the balance, the very reason I was alive.

“He was injured, severely. He may be dying y/n.” he said sadly, coming to stand before me. 

May be dying. Which meant he was alive, which meant there was still a chance. 

My head snaps up to him, a new fire in my gaze that no one had seen in six months. 

“Take me to him,” I ordered my brother as I stood to collect my cloak. 

“You’re asking me to take you, my sister, to the front lines. I won’t do it.” Rhys shakes his head. 

“I am going with or without you Rhys,” I say firmly, wrapping my cloak around my shoulders. 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before picking his swords up again and strapping them to his sides. With my hood over my head and my brother's hand at my back we made our way out into the night. Once we reached the wards at the edge of the camp we winnowed to the encampment near the frontlines.  

Immediately as we walked through the rows of tents and campfires I could tell that these males had seen hell. All of them looked significantly worse than the males at the camp we had just come from. Most of them were caked in mud and blood, some were drunk on whatever filled their cups. All of them were loud and rowdy and most likely celebrating their last nights in this life.  

Rhys led me through the camp, until we arrived at a lonely tent in the center. It was large and from the outside I could practically smell Azriel. I bolted for the entrance and threw open the flaps, my heart racing, unsure if I would find him alive or dead. 

But there he was, breathing. Leaning against the back of his bed with a large bandage over his left thigh. He was awake and refreshingly himself, as if nothing was truly wrong and most importantly he was alive. 

I run to him throwing my arms around his neck, “Oh Azriel,” I coo breathing him in. 

“Y/n?” he says, his mind clearly still foggy. 

I pull back to cup his face, whoever had healed him has cleaned him up, the small cut above his eyebrow already starting to heal, “Az,” I breathe. 

His hand comes to cup my face, “How are you here? This can’t be real,” his eyes search my face as if to try and wake up from a dream. 

I place a kiss on his lips, “I’m real, I’m here,” I assure him as tears spill from my eyes. “They told me you were dying.” 

“I am well, it was a deep cut but the healers say I’ll be okay,” he assures me as his eyes continue to take me in. 

I let my eyes do the same, taking in every cut and bruise on him, even the patched holes in his wings no doubt from arrows piercing the beautiful, leathery flesh. 

“Faebane?” Rhys’ voice croons from the entrance of the tent as he watches us, it seemed that his nerves were also settled upon seeing Azriel well. 

“Yep,” Azriel said nonchalantly, but his eyes told the truth of how happy he was to see my brother, or maybe how relieved. 

“Hurts like a bitch doesn’t it?” Rhys chuckles stepping into the tent and closing the flap. 

My eyes widened at his causal tone, “How can you both be so docile about this? He could’ve died.” I exclaim, looking Azriel over once more in case I missed any lingering wounds. 

Azriel's chest rumbles with a chuckle, “Shhh my love. Everything will be alright.” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “But what are you doing here? It isn’t safe.”

“The border of Velaris is almost breached,” Rhys started from behind me. “We couldn’t leave her and my mother there, it wasn’t safe.” 

“Mother is with father and I’m with Rhys. We found out you were injured and just a camp away and I asked him to take me to you.” I continue Rhys’ explanation. 

Azriel cuts Rhys a somewhat harsh look as if to say ‘why the hell would you take her somewhere so dangerous?’

“You needed to see each other,” Rhys explains further. “If anything were to happen to you and I didn’t let you two say goodbye, I would never forgive myself.”

Azriel’s shoulders softened in understanding before turning to me once more, “You have to go princess,” he said, eyes full of sorrow.

My breath hitches as I stumble back a little from where I sit next to him, “What? No, I won’t leave you,” I say resolutely.

He cups the side of my face, “Please it’s not safe here,” he eyes pleading as his voice falters. 

I go to argue but Rhys speaks up behind me, “He’s right y/n, It’s the most vulnerable camp we have.” my brother says, his words solemn. 

“I don’t care!” I exclaim turning back to brush Azriel’s hair from his face. “I’m not leaving him Rhys, we will be okay.”

Azriel’s eyes flare, “Look at me!” he shouts gesturing to his leg. “I can’t protect you here,” his voice is laced with frustration, not at my unwillingness to leave, but his inability to do the one thing he swore to always do, protect me. 

“Then I’ll die here with you!” I proclaim, fiercely. “If you cannot protect me, then you cannot protect yourself. Please Azriel, please don’t make me leave.” I cry lying down on his chest, gripping the leathers there, as if it might keep my brother from ripping me away.

“I can’t,” I sob as my words get caught in my throat. “I can’t lose you again I-” 

“Shhh,” Azriel coos, his hand stroking my hair as he pulls me into his chest. “You’ll stay here in my arms.” he assures me and I’m finally able to relax into his touch.  

“Y/n, I can’t stay here. I need to go back to my own troops and prepare them for tomorrow,” my brother said softly, not trying to persuade me to return, but to inform me of the increasing danger.

“I understand,” I say standing to say goodbye.

“I’ll come back for you tomorrow morning, before the troops march,” he said, his words tinged with sorrow. 

I take in the sight of my brother looking defeated, a look I so rarely saw on him. It broke me to realize I might never see him after this. If the enemy marched on this camp there would be no one to keep Azriel and I from the slaughter given his injury. 

“Okay,” I whispered, my voice cracking as I threw myself onto my beloved brother. 

Rhys said his goodbyes to Azriel, both of them not wanting to get too deep, say too much, for fear of manifesting defeat on both sides. When my brother exited the tent I took my spot next to Azriel on his large cot and waited for either death or the sunrise.  

Later in the night, the raucous from outside got louder and louder disturbing my sleep. When I raised my head from Azriel’s chest I found that his eyes remained open and fixed on the tent entrance, like he was ready to challenge anyone who dared to walk through despite his inability to walk. 

“Hey,” I smiled weakly, my voice shaky from sleep. 

“Hey,” he smiled back, pushing a hair from my face. 

I moved back the blanket to check the gash in his thigh. Lifting the white bandage, I could see that it was almost completely soaked through, if I left it that way he would never get better.

I throw my legs over the edge of the cot and search for my discarded cloak, “You need fresh bandages or you’ll get an infection. I’m going to go get you some.” 

“Y/n  don’t you dare leave this tent. There are war bound men out there looking for one last lay before they leave this world,” he pleads, reaching for my hand that’s just out of reach. 

“I’ll only be a moment Az,” I assure him before raising my hood and slipping out of the tent. 

I can hear him shouting my name as I exit, but his protests are quickly drowned out by the sound of drunken men. Azriel was right, these men were drunk and not in their right mind. But if that wound got infected and he died I would never forgive myself. So I kept my head down walking towards the medic tent I passed on my way in, ignoring rambunctious cheers and stumbling men. 

The light of the medic tent comes into view and relief washes over me swiftly before the rug is pulled out from under me and I run smack into a broad chest.

“Well what do we have here?” laughs a drunken male. I can smell the sweat and alcohol on him. 

“Looks like we have a little birdy who lost her way,” laughs a male from my right.

My feet take two steps back before bumping into another mountain of a male. His hand comes up to rip the hood off my head, if all three of them recognized me as their princess they didn’t show it. My pulse began to race as I frantically looked for a way out of this hell. 

“What’s a beauty like you doing out here?” crooned the male behind me.

I put on a stoic face, “I’m leaving if you’ll excuse me,” I state, but before I can even take my first step I feel large hands grasping my shoulders holding me in place.

“Whoever bought you for the night must’ve paid a pretty penny,” jested the man to my right. 

“What do ya say darlin? Are you gonna give these brave men a proper send off?” the man behind me says low into my ear as he grabs me around the middle, plucking me off the ground.

I start kicking trying to break free, my screamed muffled by his hand over my mouth. All the trashing in the world wasn’t enough to break their hold as the other two males descended upon me, as if they were willing to take me right there in the middle of camp. 

“I’ll thank you to take your hands off my princess,” drawled a voice from behind me. 

The eyes of the three men surrounding me went wide at whatever figure stood behind us, all three of them scurrying off to gods knew where. I turn slowly to face whoever my rescuer was, and I’m met with a mountain of sheer muscle and bright red siphons. 

“Cassian!” I cried running to throw my arms around the burly warrior, I hadn’t seen him in over a year. 

He hugs me tighter, the kind of bear hug only he could provide. It was clear to me that he missed me just as much as I had missed him. When he releases me he bends down to cup my face, and wipe away the tears I didn’t know had fallen. 

“Princess, what are you doing here? Where is your brother?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Rhys brought me here but he’s gone now, he’s gone back to his own camp but he’ll be back tomorrow,” I say as Cassian continues to wipe away the fresh tears, this time tears of happiness and not fear.

Cassain stands up as if to assess for danger before tossing an arm around me, “Stay with me, I’ll keep you safe. Where is Azriel? I was told he was injured,” he asks, remaining vigilant.  

“He’s okay, I was just getting him fresh bandages,” I report, pointing Cassian towards the medic tent. 

“He let you leave his tent?!” he balks corralling me inside the tent. 

“Uh, no. Not really,” I laugh nervously. 

He rolls his eyes and grabs a few armfuls of bandages before shoving them into my arms. We weave through drunken men who do a good job of staying at least three feet away from me, no doubt seeing The Lord of Bloodshed trailing me. 

I throw open the flap of Azriel’s tent, running to his side at once. 

“Oh thank the mother,” he sighs in relief upon seeing me. 

I laugh at his fussing and begin dressing his wound, “Look who I found,” I say nodding my head to where Cassian stands behind me.

“I believe I found you,” Cassian corrects me, sheer amusement in his voice. 

“Cass!” Azriel beams as his brother gives him an affectionate smack on the shoulder. 

“Brother you look a little worse for wear,” Cassian chuckles looking at the wound I was currently cleaning.

“I’ve been better,” Azriel winces as I wrap the wound in a clean bandage.

“I heard what happened and came as soon as I could. Ran right into your princess here, causing trouble as usual,” the warrior chortles beside me making me roll my eyes. 

“What?” Azriel asked, more alert than he previously was. 

“You were right, the men out there are assholes,” I scoff, tying off the fresh bandage. 

“Did they touch you?” he inquired, his eyes ablaze. 

“Az it’s fine Cass was there,” I assure him placing a hand on his shoulder feeling the palpable tension there, like he was ready to pounce.

“Y/n did they put their hands on you?” he asks again, this time more unyielding than before. 

“Yes but look at me, I'm fine!” I say with an exasperated sigh. 

Azriel’s eyes flit to Cassian as he extends his hand to his brother, like he needs support. 

“Cassian help me up,” he orders, already scooting to the edge of the cot.

“Azriel don’t you dare!” I shout smacking his chest. “Enough with the territorial, Illyrian nonsense! You’re injured, you’re going to get yourself killed!” 

The shadowsingers body slumps back into bed in defeat with a huff, clearly upset he couldn’t pummel the shit out of a couple of lowly males who weren’t worth it in the first place. 

Cassian’s chuckle reverberated through the tent, “Good to see you two picking up right where you left off,” he joked, remembering all the times we had similar quarrels. 

It was the early hours of morning, and while the sun was still hiding behind the mountains, it would be rearing its ugly head soon enough. The partying and cheering from outside the tent had died down. Men either passing out drunk or choosing sleep over thoughts of what might happen tomorrow.

Cassian snored softly in the corner of the tent in the chair he took up. He had elected to stay behind and watch over us at Azriel’s request and I was smart enough to not argue with two Illyrians. 

I layed on Azriel’s chest, waiting for sleep to claim me but it never came. Sleep didn’t find Azriel as well, his hand twirling through the strands of my unbound hair as we sat in silence. 

“You know what kept me alive out there on that battlefield after I was injured?” Azriel whispered into the night. 

“A healer that I’ll be paying a very handsome bonus to?” I laugh squeezing my arms around him a bit.

“No, you” he said seriously rubbing my shoulder 

“Me?” I gawk, sitting up so I could look him in the eye. 

“Yes, you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead.  “When I was downed they thought I was dead. Horses and men clamored over me. It was all so loud, such a blur but then I closed my eyes and there you were.” he said looking at the canopy of the tent, as if remembering the event.

“It was a memory from the first time I saw you, before I even knew who you were. You were standing in the snow waiting for Rhys and your mother and there was snow all over your hair. It was the first snow of the year and you were entranced just like you always are.” He chuckles, pulling me closer. “But I knew then and there that I had to open my eyes. Had to get up. Even if it was just to see your face one more time, kiss your lips, tell you I love you. I woke up in this tent reeling from it. I could’ve sworn you were here, in the vision I felt your touch. And then hours later you storm in here with your fussing and worrying.” he says. 

I feel a tear roll down my face as I cup his face, pulling his gaze from the canopy to me. I pulled his letter out of my dress pocket, the paper flopping about from how many times it had been folded and unfolded. 

“I kept this letter with me every single day. I must’ve read it a hundred times, hells I might even have it memorized.” I laugh, shaking the paper in my hands. “I never once gave up hope that I would see you again. No matter what happens after tonight I still won’t give up hope. I know I’ll find you again.”

Azriel chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine, “I’d crawl home to you if I had to princess,” he says resolutely. 

I wake the next morning to the sound of men moving about outside the tent and an empty cot. The covers before me are still disheveled from where Azriel slipped out from under me. I threw the blankets off the bed and pulled my cloak from where I set it last night, fastening it to my shoulders. 

When I toss open the flaps of the tent I’m momentarily blinded by the bright sun before the sight of men collecting their weapons and armor come into focus. My eyes darted frantically for a trace of Azriel, surely he couldn’t have gone far, surely he wasn’t going to fight today. 

“Azriel!” I call out roaming around looking for a flash of a blue siphon. 

Heavy footsteps come up behind me grabbing my arm and I turn around to be met with Cassian. I looked back to the tent and realized he had been keeping watch outside. 

“Cass, where is he?” I ask him, but all I’m met with is a heavy gaze from Cassian. 

“Y/n?” calls a voice from behind me and I turn to see my father, mother and brother walking towards us.  

My mother runs over to me taking me into her arms and holding me close. It was clear to me that they had found Rhys and instantly questioned why I wasn’t under his care. 

“Thank the gods,” my mother breathed taking in my unharmed appearance. 

“You smell like that Illyrian brute,” my father sneered and I knew right away he ment Azriel. 

“He could have been dying,” I reply with equal venom, my gaze narrowing at the man who went through such great lengths to keep us apart. 

“Of course, why do you think I sent him to the frontlines again today?” he scoffed, already turning his attention to the hordes of men preparing for battle. 

My blood turned to ice in my veins and my heart plummeted. 

“What?” I cried looking at Rhys who wore a solemn look on his face. “Rhys, you knew?” 

My brother lets out a shaky breath, “I knew before we even arrived last night. When he tried to get you to leave I used daemati to tell him he was being sent to the front lines. He knew it would be the last time he ever saw you.” he confessed.

He knew. 

Haste clouds my mind and I turn to run in the same direction with the rest of the men, my father and brother joining their ranks without another word. My mother catches me around the shoulders and pulls me into her embrace as my knees hit the muddy ground beneath us. 

“No, no, no, no no!” I scream trying to run to the front, as if I could keep Azriel from death myself. 

“The battle is not yet over sweetheart, he may still live,” My mother coos stroking my hair. 

“He was injured mother,” my words come out as sobs as I cling to her cloak. 

“Have faith,” she pleads, kneeling on the ground with me, trying to calm me as best she can. 

“Azriel,” I cry. “My Azriel.” 

I give into my mothers embrace and after a while she ushers me toward a tent. She wipes my face with a cool towel trying to calm my swollen eyes, but it’s no use. Every war cry, and ear rupturing blast feels like the one that takes Azriel’s life. Each one sends me back into a mess of shallow breaths and tears. 

Only when the battle cries fade, and the blasts of siphons and raw power cease do my tears stop. Soldiers and Illyrains come filtering back to the camp, some whole, some being carried by their peers. My brother and Cassain are the first to find us. Rhys was unharmed, but Cassian was wheeled to a healer immediately. Thankfully, she claimed he would be alright.

I took to the masses, weaving through men making their way back occasionally running into some as my eyes were focused on the skies. Searching amongst the hordes of Illyrians flying in. If Azriel was anywhere it would be there. 

“Azriel!” I shouted, my voice going hoarse from the screaming I had been doing. 

More and more Illyrians fly overhead, not one of them resembling my Azriel. If he was amongst them he would see me standing out like a sore thumb amongst the rabble, going against the grain of everyone before me.   

“AZRIEL!” I call out even louder, cupping my hands around my mouth as if it will help. 

“Y/N!” 

I hear my voice being called, not from the skies, but from the ground. My eyes snap to the crowds before me before I see a pair of wings over the top of a million heads. 

“AZRIEL?!” I call out moving in the direction of the voice that called to me. 

Then I see him, my Azriel. The wound on his leg is split open and his wings are pierced with a dozen arrows which explains his inability to fly. But he’s there, and he’s whole, and alive.

“Y/n!” he calls out to me again. 

I pick up the skirts of my dress running to him, my shoulders bumping into all the men I weave around. I jump into his arms feeling him pick me up, pulling me impossibly close. 

“Oh Az,” I breathe running a hand through his hair as my feet hit the ground again, his eyes assessing me for any injury. “My love, I thought I would never see you again,” I cried. 

His thumbs wipe away my tears as he cups my face, “Death, nor a thousand evil men could keep me from you,” he smiled before pulling me into his chest. 

As we hold each other, the chaos around us fades into the background. For a moment, time stands still, and all that matters is that we are together. He was here, in my arms and he was alive. Both of us were, and there were many more years ahead of us. Many, many more years. 

Epilogue: third person pov

Rhysand and Feyre stood in the living room of the townhouse. The world outside was near silent as Velaris slept, having spent the day celebrating solstice. Even the faelights in the home seemed to have dimmed. Members of the Inner Circle worked to clean the dessert plates off the table where they had their magnificent feast.

“And that’s their story,” Rhys finished saying to his mate, rubbing her shoulder as they continued to admire the scene before them.

On the large couch before them y/n was asleep on top of an even sleepier Azriel, his arms, legs and wings all but draping off the edges just to keep her comfortable. 

When Feyre stumbled into the adorable scene it had occurred to her that she had never heard the story of how the two came to be. Rhysand was more than happy to tell her the tale of forbidden love and near death experiences. 

“They’ve been through so much,” Feyre said, leaning into Rhysand’s touch. 

“They truly have,” Rhys nods, pressing a kiss to his mate's temple. “But now they get to eat too much turkey every solstice and skip out on dish duty so I think it worked out okay.” he chuckles. 

Feyre slaps him on the chest playfully but laughs right along with them watching as the pair lounges on the couch, mouths open and completely and utterly relaxed. The High Lord and Lady turn from the living room to rejoin the rest of their family in the kitchen. There would be time to make fun of the princess and the shadowsinger tomorrow. 

They had all the time in the world.

my masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always @crystalferret202 , @kennedy-brooke , @sunshineangel-reads , @lilah-asteria , @evergreenlark , @cheneyq

Taglist: @andreperez11

[thedemoninme141]

Wednesday gets Ghosted... literally.

Never ever thought I would write Halloween specials but here I am...

Paring: Wednesday X Fem Reader! Theme: Fluff!!!

Summary: Wednesday confesses her feelings on a Halloween date.

You wanted a date for Halloween since Wednesday won't go trick or treating with you, you jumped on the offer to trek out to an old, abandoned house in the woods—a place the locals swore was haunted—with her.

And now you both sat on the wooden balcony that hung off the back of the house. Wednesday glanced at you, scrutinizing the way you stared blankly out at the woods, as if you were lost in your thoughts. You seemed quiet, too quiet.

“Do you…” she began, her voice quieter than usual. “Do you regret coming here with me tonight?”

You glanced at her, eyes slightly widened, surprised that she’d even ask. Wednesday wasn’t usually one for questioning her actions—or caring how others felt about them.

“I just thought, perhaps, you might be disappointed that I dragged you here instead of letting you do…something more festive.” She looked away, unsure if you could read the tinge of insecurity in her face.

You tilted your head, looking at her, silent as ever, which only made her feel more self-conscious. She didn’t know what to make of it. Usually, she adored the fact that you didn’t constantly babble on like everyone else did. But tonight, she wanted—no, needed—some kind of reassurance.

“If I’m being honest,” she continued, voice a bit lower, “I've wondered a lot... If I am enough for you.” She cast her gaze downward. “My feelings… they are complicated. I suppose they’re not easily expressed in ways you might expect, or—” She clenched her jaw, then forced herself to go on. “Or that you deserve.”

"Sometimes I think that you see something in me that isn’t really there," Wednesday whispered, "And I fear that one day you’ll realize you were wrong. That you’ll wake up, look at me, and think, ‘this wasn’t worth it.’" She clenched her jaw, the briefest flicker of pain crossing her face before she forced herself to look at you again, her eyes steady.

"But then you… you fascinate me," she admitted, "The way you fearlessly follow me to places like this. Most people run from me, but you… you stay. You follow. It answers all those doubts. Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

A small smile tugged at her lips, but she looked away, as though embarrassed by the thought. "I thought I'd find myself alone, somewhere like this. And I thought… perhaps I’d like that."

Wednesday paused, her hand ghosting closer to yours. "But then you came along, completely oblivious, and ruined all of that," she said, her voice softened by an edge of tenderness. "And, against my better judgment, I don’t resent you for it."

"There are things I struggle with, you know," she went on. "Emotions. They’re foreign… unwieldy. But here I am, feeling them—feeling you, in every cold, dark part of myself that used to belong to nothing and no one." She turned, and her dark gaze fixed onto you, almost vulnerable. "I don't know if I can be what you deserve, but…" She swallowed, her voice soft. "I need you to know, if I’m capable of love, you’re the only one I’d give it to."

"I don’t know why I’m saying all of this," she admitted. "I’d tell myself it’s for your benefit, but really, I think it’s for mine. To tell you things I never knew I’d feel." Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together as if already regretting her words.

A long silence fell between you two, and the quiet grew deeper, the forest still and watching as if it too were waiting for your response.

Then, from behind, a voice broke the silence: "Sorry I’m late, Wends… had to fix Enid’s costume trouble… umm, who’s that?"

Wednesday felt her cold blood run colder. She turned, her gaze landing on… you. You, standing at the doorway, looking at her with your familiar, gentle eyes.

The “you” beside her shrank back slightly, lifting "your" hands in surrender, as though embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

Wednesday's gaze snaps back to the figure beside her — the “you” who had been sitting with her all this time.

Her voice hardens. “Who the hell are you?”

"Um… I wanted to haunt you after taking Y/N’s face," the ghostly you confessed, scratching the back of it's head. "But given the gravity of the situation with your emotions and all… I’ll leave you two alone." The ghost looked at Wednesday, gave a curt nod, and disappeared into the shadows with an almost sheepish wave.

Wednesday was still, her gaze now fixed on you, her surprise melting into a look that could only be described as deadly.

"…How long were you there?" you asked, stepping forward, trying to hide the amused smile on your lips. "And what did you tell the ghost?"

Wednesday’s mouth tightened, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "I… told the ghost," she began slowly, clearly unwilling to divulge the truth, "nothing..."

You chuckled, glancing at her with a playful grin. "So… I hope I wasn’t replaced too badly, was I?"

Wednesday let out a frustrated sigh. Perhaps she should've gone trick or treating with you.

At the Ghosts Pub: Hey guys! you won't believe what happened!

[Author's note: It was really fun to write it, Comment how you guys like it.

Request me for more one-shots!!!]

->WORKLIST<-

[igot-the-juice]

Blood of A Rose - Part 1 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Summary - (Y/n) is an aspiring artist, but rather than mainstream, she captures what she considers to be the beauty of death. She has been fighting with the industry and local art museums to publicize her work. Reaching negative publicity, a particular clown takes an interest.

Masterlist

Notes - I see a lot of smut with little plot to build up to it so decided to write it myself. He’s always portrayed as aggressive and hasty with it, but I took a different take on it since he’s always so methodical and takes his time with what he does and I feel like that would stay the same in the bedroom or wherever else with his wild ass. Slow and torturous smut, ladies. Let me know if you’d like a continuation of this!

Word Count - 5,602

Warning(s) - Gore, depictions of graphic art, morally ambiguous reader, smut/sexual themes, no harm to reader

Song Inspiration -

IAMX - Bernadette

Ice Nine Kills - A Work of Art

The brush stroked gracefully along the canvas, a symphony of strings playing in the background as she worked. A multitude of shades of red took precedence over the piece, hints of yellow and skin tones sprinkled in where she thought was necessary. 

She cleaned off her brush and took a step back, admiring her newest work, eyeing it for flaws or hints of emptiness. When she found none she smiled to herself, untying her apron and leaving to enter the house to wash herself clean of any unwanted paint that caught her skin. 

She turned on the faucet, pumping soap into her hands and began to scrub. She watched as the red began to drain down the sink, sighing in delight at the sight of it. 

(Y/n) had always been captivated by the concept of death. Not in the way people feared or avoided it, but in the way she saw its eerie elegance. Growing up in a household that celebrated perfection and the beauty of life, her fascination with decay and the passage of time was met with silence, sometimes disgust. 

As a child, she’d spend hours sketching wilted flowers or photographing the abandoned cemetery near their house. Sometimes she found dead animals which was always a treat for her. She found beauty where others saw only ruin and death. Her parents had tried to correct her, and her teachers had labeled her work disturbing. But (y/n) remained drawn to the delicate balance between life and death.

As she grew older, the fascination deepened, and she poured it into her art. Her paintings had always included blood in one way or another, whether it was an aging object, haunted landscapes, or human forms twisted in the stillness of death. On the other hand, her photographs captured the fleeting beauty of nature’s quiet end. The decay of a flower, the pale tranquility of a body. 

However, the world around her wasn’t ready for her vision. Critics were quick to brand her work as grotesque, calling it an abomination, and galleries refused to showcase her art. News articles labeled her as disturbed, questioning her mental health rather than her talent.

But for (y/n), it was never about horror. She saw beauty in the inevitability of death, in the idea that all things must come to an end. To her, it was a reminder of the fragility of existence and the raw, unfiltered truth of the world. Yet, each harsh critique was another nail in the coffin of her confidence, driving her further into herself. 

She became more reserved, speaking less in public, avoiding eye contact at exhibitions - if she even attended. She longed to defend her work, but the voices of her critics echoed in her mind, silencing her before she could even begin.

Despite the noise, (y/n) still clung to her vision, working tirelessly in the small, dimly lit studio that was the garage of the small house she currently rented. Surrounded by the eerie stillness of her creations. 

She began to change into something more fitting for the colder October weather, slipping on a coat to bury her hands in and walking into the crisp autumn air. As her feet tapped through the night’s atmosphere, she closed her eyes for a moment, the smell of the dying trees and asphalt sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. 

She didn’t live far from the heart of Miles County, quickly reaching it and taking joy in the quietness of it all compared to the usual bustling energy during the day that she preferred to avoid. 

She passed a display lined and stacked with TVs, some of them turned on and broadcasting different channels. 

“- another piece was released just days ago with another overwhelming amount of negativity -“ 

She stopped promptly, turning her head towards one of the TVs closest to her and seeing a portrait of herself display. 

“Be advised, the image is disturbing.” 

Her last work was then shown. She admired it, not from an egotistical standpoint, but more from the genuine beauty of the concept. 

A flower pot, chipped and cracked. An elongated and decaying finger was the stem of the flower in the pot, bloodied thorns sticking out of it every which way. Ears made up the petals, an eyeball at the center in place of a typical pistil. A radiant glow shone from behind the flower, its rays of light praising its beauty in all of its wretched glory. 

Her eyes began to water as they threw out carefully constructed insults, indirect but still noticeable enough to catch. 

However, what (y/n) didn’t notice was the tall, slim monochromatic figure standing behind her just feet away. Gripping the overfilled black trash bag hanging over his shoulder, he curiously watched the same TV, head tilted slightly in fascination.

She brought a balled hand up to below her nose, keeping it from running as a tear fell. Too caught up in the screen before her, she failed to notice the man that now stood next to her, watching the TV from next to her rather than behind, his bag now on the sidewalk.

Having had enough of their cruel remarks, she turned to walk back home, but gasped when she nearly collided with the strange man. 

Her eyes slowly trailed up his form, landing on his white painted face, accented by the black paint around his eyes and mouth. She took in his features with curiosity and fascination, taking note of his exaggerated hooked nose, cheekbones and pointed chin. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed and quickly wiped at her tears. “I didn’t notice you there.” 

His head slowly turned towards her and his mouth widened into a dramatic smile, flashing his black-coated teeth. It suddenly turned to surprise, shaking where he stood with excitement and pointing to the TV. 

“You… Do you like it?” She asked, unbelieving. He nodded enthusiastically and pointed to her, then the TV, then back to her. She caught on. “Oh, um… Yeah - yeah that’s me.” 

His hands shook with another wave of excitement, his hands representing the beat of his heart, then giving a chef’s kiss. 

“Well, thank you,” She sniffed again. “That means a lot to me, actually.” She gave a small giggle of amusement at his mannerisms. 

He then stopped suddenly, putting his hands on his hips with a disapproving look. He ran a finger down his cheek to simulate a fake tear, then pointed to her, then the TV. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m used to it by now.” (Y/n) waved off, but the mime knew better. 

He held up a finger, his mouth forming an ‘o’ with eyebrows raised, then turned to rummage through his bag. She watched curiously, wondering how this was even happening. He suddenly turned back around, presenting a rose to her with a large smile. 

Again, she couldn’t help but giggle and grew bashful, her cheeks tinting red as her fingers lightly grazed his own to take the flower from him. She brought it up to her nose to smell it, a smile gracing her lips. She then felt something drip down her hand and looked down at the flower again, seeing as a drop of blood made its way down over her fingers. 

“Nice touch. Thank you.” She complimented and her smile widened. 

He folded his hands in front of himself, swaying as if to show he himself was bashful. 

“Are you mute?” She asked curiously out of the blue. 

He nodded and she smiled in understanding. 

“Well, I think you’re quite charming regardless.” She spoke softly and he waved a hand at her, then raised it to his cheek as if he was blushing. Her giggles turned into laughter. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

(Y/n) watched as he looked up in thought, tapping his chin. He then stuck a finger up to show he had an idea and dipped a finger into the blood of the rose, turning to the glass pane with the TVs and began to write. 

“Art?” She asked and he nodded eagerly, making her laugh once more. “It suits you.” He shrugged dramatically in response. (Y/n) sighed, looking at her watch reading 10:34. “As much as I love this interaction, I should head back home.” She looked back up at him and he pouted and looked down, then shot up with another idea. 

He made a walking motion with his fingers, pointed to himself, then to her and pointed in the direction she came from. 

“You want to walk me home?” He nodded. 

She stood in thought for a moment, wondering if she should really trust the monochromatic clown. He seemed sweet enough, and it wasn’t a lie when she said he was charming. She couldn’t deny that there was something oddly attractive about his facial features, either. 

Against her better judgment, she looked back up at him and gave a shy smile. “Okay.” Art clapped with glee and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and motioning for her to lead the way. 

The walk was quiet, save for (y/n) making casual conversation every now and then. It wasn’t an awkward silence when she didn’t speak, and Art seemed to be just as content as he happily walked alongside her. She couldn’t help but sneak looks at him along the way, and though he seemed blissfully oblivious he caught every glance. 

She felt a pang of pity when they reached the smaller house, walking up to the door and turning to him to see him pouting once more. “Thank you for walking me. It gets lonely sometimes, to be honest.” 

He looked down, swinging with sadness at the end of their walk. 

“Well,” She sighed in thought. “I mean, I suppose you know where I live now. Maybe you could visit some time? I never really have company, anyways.” 

His excitement reappeared, making herself happy in the process. He nodded vigorously and she laughed for the umpteenth time. 

“Be safe out there, okay?” He nodded again and waved at her as she opened the door to go inside. “Goodnight, Art.” The door closed and she leaned against it, wondering what the hell just happened. 

Of all people, she befriended a clown. But it was nothing against him. She supposed she just attracted the oddballs of the world given that she was deemed one herself by society. 

She mindlessly prepared for bed, running through her interaction with the man over and over repeatedly. It was the only thing she could think about. No amount of distraction would keep him from her head. (Y/n) sighed as she stared up at the ceiling, hands folded over her abdomen.  

When she woke up the next morning, preparing breakfast in the kitchen as the TV hummed in the background, her ears caught something rather peculiar. 

“- found dead in their home just last night after neighbors reported screaming to the police.  We were told photographs of the scene are too graphic to broadcast and were not provided.”

(Y/n) walked over to the TV, seeing a picture of the news anchor who insulted her work the night before, along with his family. As much as she pitied them, she couldn’t help the tsk of her tongue when they refused to provide the photographs. She had recently been relying on such photos as inspiration for her pieces, and she couldn’t do much but grow more and more curious about them. 

After eating her breakfast and freshening up, she went to her desktop computer and powered it on. Having made note of the name of the news anchor, she began to search the case in hopes that they posted the photos online and came across an image that baffled her. In the middle of the article was a sketch of the suspect. 

The clown she had encountered. 

She stopped reading and sat back against her chair, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. He knew where she lived, and she invited him to visit. Granted, she figured if he wished her harm, he would just bust through a window or the door itself regardless of invitations. 

But then she couldn’t shake his goofy mannerisms, how he showed her more kindness in one night than anyone had in all of her (y/age) years. How he showed her how much he loved her art, giving her the rose to cheer her up. 

Then she remembered. Art was with her when the news anchor was insulting her work. Now he and his family are dead. 

Could he have…?

Coincidence. (Y/n) shook her head. 

(Y/n) stood and made her way to the garage, checking if her latest work had dried up. To her delight, it did, and she removed it from the easel to prop against the wall holding her countless other works. 

The rest of the day was wasted away, filled with cat naps, snacking and binging shows. She thought of going out and doing something for herself, but the thought of being surrounded by people immediately put her off. So she decided on lounging until the sun set and could truly be in her element. 

Time seemed to mock her, dragging on and on enough to make her think that it froze altogether. But alas, the hues outside grew darker and she began to prepare for her night out. 

Throwing on a sweater dress, pantyhose and her shoes, she picked up her digital camera that sat on a nearby table, hanging it around her neck before making her way outside. When she turned to face the street, she jumped at the sight of Art standing nearly directly in front of her with the same oversized bag and wide grin. 

(Y/n) froze, wondering if things should change between them after finding out what he did. What he could do. 

She figured it was already too late if he indeed wished her harm. He knew where she lived and could easily find her. So why should she give him further incentive? And he hadn’t done anything to her personally to be rudely snubbed. The memories of the night before ran through her head, an innocent and friendly encounter. 

So she indulged herself until fate decided the outcome. 

“Hey, Art.” She greeted him with a gentle smile. He waved excitedly at her, then pointed at the camera around her neck with a questioning expression. “Oh, I’m just going on a walk. Trying to see if there’s anything interesting to photograph for my next piece.” 

He tapped his chin and looked off, thinking. He perked up with a finger, eagerly motioning for her to follow him. Unable to contain her curiosity, she walked up to him and began to follow. 

“You know a place I could find something?” He grinned mischievously at her, a silent ‘yes’. 

After some walking, they came upon an older building. The walls actively rotted away, windows broken and some boarded up. He stopped with her when she paused at the front, looking up at the building in awe. 

Perfection.

She reached for her camera, but his hand quickly came over hers to stop her and heat rushed up to her face. He pulled away and motioned to the building, then placed his hand over his heart endearingly. “Is this your home?” He nodded. “Oh! I’m sorry, I won’t take pictures.” 

He patted her shoulder as a thank you and motioned for her to follow once more, leading her into the building. 

The smell was horrid to anyone else, but to (y/n) it was just another day of work. With the countless rotting animals and even occasional mutilated body she’s encountered, she had no choice but to grow used to it. By now, the smell reminded her of her work and provided a sense of comfort in a twisted way. 

However, standing in what was the killer’s home, it also struck her like a bolt of lightning. The familiar smell of blood and rot was in his home, which could only mean one thing. 

“You wanted to show me something in here, didn’t you?” 

Art’s smile grew impossibly wide, pointing at her to show he was impressed that she caught on quickly. He dropped his bag and held out his hand in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion, leg kicked out and foot up on its heel, holding the same sadistic smile when she met his eyes. (Y/n) delicately placed her hand in his, his own only grasping onto her fingers with a surprising gentleness as he led her through the dark building to a separate room. 

The smell grew stronger the closer they drew to the room as more and more of the all too familiar red hues began to reveal themselves. 

When they finally entered, she gasped at the sight before her. Art presented his own ‘masterpiece’ to her with excitement, taking in her every reaction. 

Sat on a chair in the center of the room was the remnants of a decapitated man, chest cavity wide open. Blood covered the body from neck to toe, stains coating the walls and floor around it. 

At first she was frightened, but as he presented it to her she realized something. She realized that they shared the same fascination. Granted, he had a more methodical way of showing it, but artists always vary in accordance to what mediums they used, right? 

“You did this?” 

Art nodded eagerly, practically vibrating where he stood as he impatiently awaited for a verbal response. As she took in the sight before her shamelessly, he urged her with his hands to spit out what she was thinking. 

“It’s beautiful…” She whispered breathlessly. And it was the truth. It felt as if she was staring at a blank canvas for her to mold and create into something new, with his permission of course. The possibilities were endless as they ran through her head, too many to keep track of. 

Ever observant, he took notice of the turmoil and his almost innocent excitement turned into something more wicked. Something clicked in his brain as he practically watched a butterfly emerge from its cocoon before his very eyes. 

He motioned to (y/n), then to the body, then with widespread arms he motioned at them together. 

“You want me to create something?” She wondered if he ever suffered whiplash from nodding so aggressively, at least with her. “May I walk around to see what you have that I could use?” Another nod. 

(Y/n) looked around the room, finding it completely empty besides the chair and body. She then left to wander, Art following her like a lost puppy, eager to watch her work. After searching through three other rooms, she finally found a flower pot. It had a chunk missing from the back, but she could easily turn it to where it wasn’t visible. 

She turned to Art. “Do you have a cup or something to fill it with dirt?” He thought for a moment, then gave her a sign to wait before disappearing. 

Her eyes wandered around what she assumed used to be a bedroom. An old mattress in the corner with an equally rotting dresser, nightstand and standing mirror. 

When he reappeared, he held out a tin can to her and she gladly took it, making their way outside with the pot to fill it. He watched as she did so, taking note of the way she avoided getting herself dirty. He silently laughed to himself, pointing at her as her dainty hands refused to muddle with the soil. “What?” She questioned with her own chuckle. 

He mimicked her avoiding the dirt and grime as he continued to laugh and she rolled her eyes. 

“The work I showcase does not reflect my behavior. You’d be surprised how much I hate getting dirty.” (Y/n) giggled as she finished filling the pot, mindful of the missing chunk so as to not let any dirt spill. “Where did you get the rose from yesterday? Was it around here?” 

He motioned for her to follow, looking back at her every now and then as he led her around the building to the back. A single rose bush was planted with only a few fully-bloomed flowers left intact. He offered to cut one of them off, and doing so he held it delicately to himself. 

“Could you hold this for a second?” She held out the pot to him and he nodded. “Careful of the back, I don’t want anything to spill.” He nodded again and watched as she wandered, looking around for other plants to add to the pot. She settled on a few weeds, picking a handful of petals off of the other roses on the bush before heading back to the room with Art. 

He softly set the items down in the corner as she cradled the petals in her hand, looking at the body with a tilted head. Art stood next to her, mimicking her mannerisms as he tried to understand what she was thinking of. He watched as her mouth moved to speak, but nothing followed until a few seconds after. 

“Um…” She pointed to the body, looking at it for a few more seconds before turning her head to him. “Could you, um…” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could do a couple more things to it for me?” 

His face twisted into mischief, as if to say ‘I thought you’d never ask’. His palms pressed against each other, fingers twiddling as he waited for what she wanted. 

“Could you flatten the top and remove the um…” She motioned to the abdomen. “What’s inside…?” His mouth made an ‘o’ in a surprised expression before shifting into the same smile, booping her nose before leaving the room, she assumed to grab supplies. 

He soon returned with a hacksaw and scissors, making his way to the body to do what she asked. Her stomach grew queasy once he began and she averted her gaze out of habit. 

The noise suddenly stopped and she looked back to see him standing upright with a frown. She felt a pang of fear and dare she say guilt, thinking he was offended. 

“I-I’m sorry, I love the end result, but I just get squeamish with the process, is all…” She whispered almost pitifully. 

He watched as her face paled and she was left baffled when he made his way over to her, saw still in hand. However, he simply pushed her out of the room into a wide open area that was further away, holding up a finger to tell her to wait before he disappeared to finish.  

Her face grew hot at the gesture, stomach fluttering as a bashful smile reached her lips. When (y/n) turned, she was met with a workbench, worn stool sat in front of it. She wandered over with curiosity, eyeing the rusted tools, nails and screws that sat on top of it. 

A few jars were scattered along the back of it against the wall, reading the labels. Most of them were some form of acid, others she refused to guess the result of the compound mixture. 

(y/n)’s eyes lit up when she found small circular candles akin to what would be put in a pumpkin, grabbing a couple along with a match from a box sat next to them and put them in her pocket. 

She jumped when the sound of metal clattering to the floor invaded her ears and she whipped around to find Art standing there, saw next to his comically large shoes. He waggled his fingers at her in a wave, motioning for her to head back to the room to which she obeyed. She passed him with the same bashful smile, remembering his kindness from earlier.

When she entered, she saw that he did indeed do as she asked and turned to Art with a wider smile. “Thank you.” The clown tipped his hat and she giggled. “Could you hold these please?” She asked of the petals and he held out his cupped hands for her to place them in. 

Eyes following her like a cat, he watched as she knelt by the pot, planting the rose in the center of it followed by the other plants she picked along the way, standing and making her way to the body. She placed it in the now empty cavity of the abdomen, then turned to take the petals back from Art. She sprinkled them over the body, some inside where the pot was. 

She then pulled out the candles, placing them methodically inside the abdomen, making a point to avoid touching the body itself. Igniting the match, she lit the candles and stood, looking for the light switch to turn off the overhead lights. Art caught on and immediately turned them off somehow. (Y/n) looked at him with a confused expression to which he just shrugged with a wide grin. 

She shook her head and giggled, lifting the camera from around her neck, checking the settings before testing different angles through the lens, snapping photos when she came upon the ones that satisfied her. (Y/n) made her way next to Art who shook his hands with excitement.

He stood against her with their closeness, practically his entire side brushing against her from behind as he looked down at the photos she clicked through. The beat of her heart picked up, blood rushing to her ears at the realization. 

“Which one do you think is best?” She asked softly, turning to look up at him to see him already looking at her. 

The candlight shone ominously against his features, pale eyes piercing through her own, her smile dropping as his nose nearly touched her own. His eyebrows quickly rose and dropped, head turning as his eyes squinted with his smile. His hand slowly rose, carefully prying the camera from her hands and setting it down. As he stood back to his full height, she craned her neck to look up at him, their bodies slowly turning to face each other until he took a step towards her, (y/n) taking a step back. 

Taking his time, he walked her back until her body was pressed against the wall and his figure was the only thing in her field of view. Her breath shook as his bloodied fingertips reached up to caress her jaw, settling delicately under her chin to hold her gaze. 

He leaned closer, tilting his head as his nose tickled her face. The hand under her chin then moved down to her neck, his feather-like touch changing pressure as it wrapped itself around her, increasing just enough to make her gasp and he finally closed the gap between them. 

The kiss was surprisingly tame for how brutal he was, her eyes closed as she gave in to the intoxicating feeling and the only thing she could think of or feel was the man that held her. As for him, his eyes remained open, taking in and savoring her every expression. 

The expressions of the same twisted mind that complimented his own work, turning it into breathtaking beauty that was beyond comparison. His mannerisms grew more eager, more desperate at the thought of whatever else they could create together, his free hand finding her waist and squeezing enough to release air from her lungs audibly, a plea for more. 

His tongue slid against her teeth and she welcomed the invasion, parting her mouth to take him in as his hand ran over the hump of her arse, fingers digging into the fat and muscle enough to bruise. His wanton thoughts grew to become an obsession, anger rising at the thought of her parting from his life. 

Their breath mingled, his mouth moving down to her jaw, then to her pulse point where he bit down just enough to release a trickle of blood and she cried out, hand squeezing his forearm of the hand still wrapped around her neck. As he sucked at the blood, the hand moved from her neck down to her breast, kneading and toying with it as her head leaned back, swaying at the pleasure. 

Her leg lifted as his other hand slid from her arse down her thigh, hugging it close to him as he shifted his leg to apply pressure at her core. He pulled away from her neck, teeth still bared in its grin but his eyes clouded with lust and greed as he took her in. Her lips were parted with need, vulnerable and exposed before him in a gamble of trust and fate. 

She felt his leg shift and she whined, a shiver running down her spine once she finally opened her eyes to look up at him. The sight before her sent a pulse to her center, clit throbbing as his hand slid down from her breast to her hip, her eyes following as he slowly dropped to his knees before her. 

The thigh he previously held was now over his shoulder, hands sliding the skirt of her dress up to her hips to bury his nose into her clothed pussy. She sighed at the feeling, hands moving to hold the skirt for him. Suddenly, she heard a rip, cold air hitting her core as he tore her pantyhose open to reach her. 

(Y/n) watched as he looked up at her with a mischievous grin and wiggled his eyebrows, disappearing back under her skirt when she felt his warm muscle drag along her leaking center. She felt his breath fan over her, his nose tickling her bud as his tongue dipped into her, teasing her entrance before plunging into it. 

The woman gasped and her back arched as he toyed with her, her hand coming down to grip one of his own that squeezed at her thighs. He shook his head eagerly as he continued his feast and she moaned at the action, rolling her hips against him. His tongue then removed itself, moving to settle on her clit and she trembled at the sensitivity. 

His free hand inched towards where his tongue had been, playing with her lower lips and providing a tickling sensation before he dipped a finger in, pushing to the knuckle. His finger began to move in rhythm with his tongue, practically digging into the spongy area that drove her mad with desperation. 

She let go of his hand when she felt him move it, followed by the sound of a zipper coming undone as he pulled out his hardened member, continuing to chase her high and begging to himself to hear her scream. 

She felt the coil begin to build and tense up, her heart racing as her skin grew hot in anticipation. The two of them locked eyes and his own squinted, encouraging her to fall over the edge. His gaze alone was enough, her chest heaving as she leaned her head back against the wall with a cry. 

She struggled to catch her breath, panting and watching Art with a fucked-out expression as he rose to his feet with a deep hunger in his eyes. Her eyes flicked down to his erection, then back up at him with brows knit in anticipation. He slipped an arm behind her, pulling her in to press her against him. 

Holding her gaze, he teased his member against her entrance, brow twitching as she tried to move against his strength. His smile suddenly dropped as he impaled her with his length, mouth open as he mocked her expression with great pleasure. His grin returned as she gripped onto his shoulder, one of her legs moving to hook around his waist. 

He snatched her chin when her eyes began to close, forcing her to watch him as he began to set an agonizingly slow pace. He wanted to hear her beg. Needed to hear her beg. His cock twitched at the thought of it and she moaned. 

“Art…” She called breathlessly and he tilted his head to listen. “Please…” The word shook as it left her lips. The leg hooked behind him pulled him in closer and his mouth twitched as she pleaded him once more. 

He lifted her other leg to wrap around him, carrying her as if she was weightless, his display of strength only deepening her arousal and need as both of her hands settled behind his neck. He suddenly began to plunge into her repeatedly, a feral noise escaping from her throat as he watched on with animalistic desire. 

He angled their bodies effortlessly, paying attention to her every expression and vocal flux in order to throw her over the edge for a second time. Her moans heightened their pitch, growing louder as her grip on him tightened and his eyes somehow darkened further, thrusting harder and harder with an inhuman amount of strength and stamina.

“Art -“ He gave a single nod with a sadistic grin as (y/n)’s hands shifted to his shoulders, nails digging into the satin of his suit before she crossed over into her orgasm. One of his hands snatched her jaw, slightly squeezing at her cheeks as their noses touched. He practically stared into her soul as he soon found his own release, baring his teeth as she felt his warm stream of seed fill her. 

She sighed in exhaustion as Art silently huffed to himself. He then brought his head next to hers, licking the shell of her ear.

His mind was made up. Her fate was sealed.

[talaok]

Mornin', Birthday girl

Pairing: No-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader

Summary: it's your birthday, and Joel and your daughters have planned the perfect morning

Warnings: A bunch of overly fluffy smut (cause, as we've established, im delusional): Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie.

a/n: Guess what, it's my b-day!!! And since I'm delulu I wrote myself a little birthday fic as a present (the fact that this is not my real life is such bullshit tbh) and i thought why not post it on here? maybe today's someone else's birthday too and that would be a nice surprise for them, no?

Sleep was still holding you captive when Joel started positioning himself, making the bed creak with his every movement and cussing internally each time, until finally, he was where he needed to be, right between your thighs.

And what a place to be.

A soft smile pulled at his lips as he watched you peacefully sleeping, your mouth slightly parted, your chest slowly rising and falling... You looked like an angel even when asleep, and his heart filled with that warmth only you knew how to create.

But enough of that, he had to get to work before you woke up.

He gingerly placed his hands on the outer side of your thighs, before slowly, oh so slowly, leaning down to start a trail of small kisses from your navel down to your clit, feeling your body react to his every move.

You still hadn't woken when he glanced up, so for good measure, he flattened his tongue and licked your whole slit like an ice cream cone, and like clockwork, your eyes snapped open.

"b-baby?" your voice was more of a whisper as you finally found the source of your sudden awakening.

"Good mornin', birthday girl" Joel murmured, wasting no time before bending down to taste you again.

"oh my god" you whimpered, having woken from a dream just to get thrown into a new one.

Good morning indeed

"I might just get used to this" A breathy chuckle left your lips, as he licked and sucked your cunt like it was his duty.

"Oh yeah?" the vibrations of his voice made a shiver run up your spine as he answered "I might too" he smirked "I'll just start having you for breakfast"

Your ability to tease and speak quickly disappeared when two of his thick digits plunged into your heat.

"Oh f-fuck" you choked, your hand quickly reaching for his locks to have something to hold onto as he started curling and moving his fingers inside of you, and his mouth closed on your bud to suck on it greedily.

"O-Oh- baby" your back arched from the bed, as he groaned at the feel of your walls tightening around him.

"fuck, you're delicious darlin'"

but you could only hum a low "Oh god" as your legs wrapped around him and your hips started desperately grinding on his face of their own accord.

It didn't take long before your orgasm was approaching, and your legs were shaking.

"C'mon mama" he murmured "Give it to me"

And that's all you needed.

Joel watched hypnotized as you threw your head back, your left hand going to your tits as your right hand gripped his hair for dear life.

He didn't stop, letting you ride out your high until your breathing had become more even, and your fingers in his hair had relaxed.

A soft smile pulled at his lips as he crawled up to meet his lips with yours in a sweet kiss.

"Happy birthday, sugar" he beamed

"thank you, baby" you whispered, one of your hands reaching for his cheek to guide him down for another kiss.

And as the kiss grew hotter, and his hands started roaming every inch of your body, you reached for the bulge in his boxers you could feel rubbing against you.

He groaned into your mouth as you freed his cock and started slowly pumping it.

"fuck" he breathed, leaning down to reserve some attention for your neck "Today's only about you, darlin'" he murmured to your ear, as he took his dick from your hand "let me take care of my wife like she deserves"

You beamed happily at his words, closing your eyes as you felt him position his tip at your entrance until-

"wait" your eyes widened

"what, sugar?"

"is the door locked?"

Joel grinned "Yeah sweetheart"

"oh" you breathed a sigh of relief "ok"

You learned the hard, and very embarrassing way, the importance of a lock to your bedroom door when having two incredibly nosy children.

You tried to get back to your previous excitement when you heard a faint buzz coming from outside your room.

"Is that...music?"

Joel's head fell to your shoulder in frustration as a soft chuckle fled his throat

"It is" he answered, kissing your neck "I told the girls to put on some music"

You frowned "Why?"

A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips as he leaned up to look at you.

"So that you can make all those pretty sounds you love to make"

Your mouth opened to say something, but all you could do was grin like an idiot.

"You're the perfect man, Joel Miller"

"mh" he considered, kissing the corner of your mouth as he got back to positioning his manhood to your entrance "Only 'cause you're the perfect woman, sweetheart"

And with one slow thrust, he was filling you to the brim, and for once, you could cry out like you always wanted to.

"Jesus Christ" he groaned into your neck "always so tight f'me sugar"

"oh my god" you moaned, as he started to move, finding a slow but, oh so fucking deep pace that made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"I love you so much baby" he breathed, as he hit that spongey spot inside of you with each thrust "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but-" he paused to take a breather as your pussy squeezed him so good it was getting hard to breathe "but christ darlin' I'm thankful for you every day"

"J-Joel" you whimpered as your eyes watered and your hands clawed at his back "I love you too, baby" you promised, "I love you so so much" you murmured, nestling your face in his hair as your breathing got more and more ragged, and the mixture of his lips on your skin and his cock deep inside you started to get too much.

The bed was creaking with every thrust, and the sound of his skin meeting with yours was filling the room, but your hearing had become fainter... like you were still dreaming and the only real thing was Joel's broad body hovering over yours, and your impending orgasm

"o-oh god" you cried,

"let go baby" he murmured, sucking on a spot just beneath your ear as he kept pounding you like he wanted to split you in half "Come for me"

And that was it. Your vision went blank and the world went mute for a minute as a wave of pure pleasure took over your entire body.

Joel kept going, trying to last as much as he could for you, but once you let out yet another breathy moan resembling his name, he couldn't do it anymore, and filled you up completely with his cum.

Silence spread as you both tried to learn how to breathe again, but after a good minute, Joel finally reemerged from the crook of your neck to kiss your lips.

"Let me clean you up" he spoke, pulling out of you and walking into the bathroom "I think breakfast is almost ready"

You nodded mindlessly, too fucked out to realize what he'd just said, until, as he reappeared from the bathroom with a wet cloth in his hand, you finally realized.

"Breakfast?"

__ __ __

"Happy birthday mommy!" Your youngest, Eva, came running towards you as soon as you stepped into the kitchen to hug you as tight as she could.

"Happy birthday Mom!" Sarah smiled, joining the hug just a moment after as Joel stumbled into the room to watch the scene unfold.

You bashed in the warmth of their embrace for a moment, before coming back to earth.

"thank you, babies" you murmured, stroking their backs with your thumb as a gigantic smile spread on your face.

"We made breakfast!" Eva announced as they both leaned away.

"You did?"

"We made birthday pancakes" Sarah explained, pointing at a plate stacked with them.

"Like you do!" Eva chirped

And your words got stuck in your throat as you took everything in.

They did all that. Just for you. Your two beautiful daughters.

"I-" you stuttered, as your eyes started to water.

"You did all that on your own?"

"yup!" 

A tear ran down your cheek faster than you could wipe it away.

"mommy, why are you crying?" Eva asked, concerned "daddy, why's mommy crying? Did we do something wrong?"

"N-no baby, you did nothing wrong" you smiled, as other tears fell from your eyes

"I think mommy's crying 'cause she's happy babygirl" Joel explained, coming in to help.

"Oh" her eyes widened "Are you, mom?"

"yes baby" you reassured her, crouching down to their level to be able to hug them again. "You're the most amazing daughters in the whole world, you know that?" you smiled, soaking in their scent "And I love you more than anything"

"go sit down now" you urged, getting back up as they ran to the table, clearly eager to eat their own creation.

But as they did, your eyes couldn't help but focus on the kitchen.

It was a complete mess.

"I'll clean it up, don't worry" Joel spoke, meeting you by your side, and taking your hand in his.

You smiled for what felt like the millionth time this morning.

"thank you" you beamed "for everything"

"It's the least I could do" he shook his head, leaning in to tenderly kiss you 

And as much as you were enjoying the kiss, you couldn't help but laugh as you heard the comments it was eliciting from the audience.

"Ew," Eva groaned, making a disgusted face.

"gross" Sarah agreed.

You and Joel chuckled as you took a step back for both their sakes.

"c'mon, let's go eat," he said "Breakfast's gettin' cold, mama"

~~~~~~

The fic is done this is just a bunch of other shit cause i feel like it, and id like to take a moment to thank my friends for supporting and feeding my delusions

The birthday wishes a friend sent me

And what has now become one of my favorite things I've ever been gifted, the Italian literary classic: Il fu Pedro Pascal

[astraystayyh]

Invisible Thread- two.

This is the second and final part of Invisible Thread. Here is the link to part one.

pairing: minho x reader. pre-established relationship. reader has she/her pronouns.

genre: fluff and domesticity. angst. healing. characters trying to become better. humans being humans.

cw: parent death. grief. talk about death. allusion to sex but no smut. suggestive at one tiny part but it's for the plot.

summary: In which Minho rewrites your entire relationship with love.

word count: 17k

a.n: this is, i hope, a gentle reminder to always be kind to yourself, and to the people surrounding you. this one is pretty personal because i see myself a lot in yn, but it was also challenging since i wrote about things i have never experienced either. so i hope you'll enjoy reading, and that the second part will live up to your expectations. it took me a long time to write this but it's okay!! English isn't my first language and this was also a reminder to be patient with myself. thank you. i love you all. truly. feedback is highly appreciated, as always <3

(here is a Spotify playlist i made for this second part, you can listen to it while reading if you'd like :))

Love. How lucky yet cursed we are to ever experience it.

The fear attached to this singular emotion seems ridiculous. Because we aren't afraid of experiencing anger, sadness, or nervousness. They might overwhelm us, but we accept them, we recognize them as they are and then we cope with them. Whichever way we know best.

But when love comes knocking on our door, we stray away from it, we try to shape it into something else- much gentler on the soul, less devastating if it were ever not reciprocated.

So, we name it a crush, attachment, infatuation; anything but the cursed four-lettered word- anything but love. As though merely acknowledging it would morph it into a sharp-edged sword, eternally wedged within us, making our blood dribble away slowly and with it, our souls awash.

You are no exception. Love has terrified you for the better part of your life. There was a time when the word did slip easily from your mouth, back when you were a child and your view of the world was still naive, undisturbed by what you now know. You loved ice cream, you loved candy, you loved your teacher who braided your hair.

But then the once light word grew heavy on your tongue. Because love is what made you crave your mother's warmth, only to find coldness awaiting you. It is love that made you seek shelter elsewhere, in the fleeting opinions of the people surrounding you, hanging your entire worth on the words they uttered about you- ones they forgot within hours but you carried for years.

But this view of yours got dismantled, slowly, day by day. You’ve come to learn that it isn't love that had hurt you, it was rather the lack of it.

It cannot be love that wound when it is the emotion swimming in your eyes, whenever they rest on Minho. You didn't dare say it to him, to name the feeling out loud. You were petrified that if it was ever out in the open, then the love would materialize into something tangible, and the universe would snatch it away, as it has done before with everything you've ever wanted.

But although you didn't say it, you felt it, deep within each one of your atoms. It spilled from you like infinite ink, rewriting your entire relationship with love, dismissing every wrong notion you've once established about it.

Love cannot hurt because you love Minho, and you'd hurt yourself before ever hurting him.

But maybe none of you would have to hurt. Maybe for once, you'd both be okay. That's what you'd like to believe as Minho's shoulders brush against yours. You are sitting at your usual table at Limbo, a gray cat sprawled on top of your laps. Finals ended three weeks ago. Summer break is here, the one time you've been dreading since you came to college. Because everyone is going back to their homes, but you don't have one to head back to.

"What will you do this summer?" Minho suddenly asks, putting down his iced americano. You scratch the cat's ears beside you gently- Lilia you've decided to name her. "I don't really have plans."

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

"I mean, unless you have another secret boyfriend, then yes, with me."

"Shut up," you giggle, swatting his arm playfully. "I'd really like that," you smile softly at him, to which he nods. "Oh, and we still need to celebrate your win this term."

"Mm. Let's just call it a date this time," he grins, taking a spoonful of the salted caramel cheesecake and bringing it to your mouth. "I need to go visit my family for a few days, and then we can go," he adds.

Sudden guilt floods your being. He had a family he could go to. It was selfish for you to want him to stay, to strip him from this privilege you weren't granted with.

"I don't want you to cut your time short with them for me," you mumble, eyes fixated on Lilia soundly dozing off on his lap. It still astonished you how all animals seemed at ease in Minho's presence. As if they could sense his gentle soul, carefully hidden behind his sarcastic retorts, and cheeky smiles- one you were lucky enough to have been touched with.

"I'm not. I just really wanna go camping," he says nonchalantly, but his hand raises to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

"You should go with them."

"I have a two-person tent in mind, it won't fit the three of us. And I want to come back to you."

His words painted a sweet picture- of him returning home after a long journey, and you were that haven he sought to rest. The idea that he'd discover such solace in you when you struggled to find it within yourself, seemed unfathomable to you.

So, you bite your lower lip slightly, before squeezing his knee in gratitude. "Okay. I'll be waiting."

✹✹✹

Blue and orange flames surge higher under the wind. You watch, mesmerized as their light dances upon Minho's skin, painting him with glistening, golden hues. Every feature of his face is chiseled to perfection, as if a sculptor spent hours perfecting his face, down to the tiniest detail. He looked in his element here, setting up your tent and grilling the meat and now looking up at the sky, a chilled lemonade in his hand. You should go camping more often.

Minho places his empty can of cola on the ground, before tapping his lap. "Come here," he smiles and you oblige, rising from your chair and settling on his thighs. You tuck your knees to your chest, curling yourself entirely in his hold. His arms encircle your body, making sure you don't slip down. You close your eyes, as Minho gazes up at the night sky before you. You are comfortable and safe. It is that safety that you've craved for so long. To be held and not fear the threat of a knife behind your back.

It still surprised you, how you came to crave Minho's presence. But it went beyond just being near him; you felt as if you needed to touch him, as if verifying his existence, ensuring he wasn't an ephemeral specter slipping through your fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. Yet, even more surprising was Minho's own yearning for you. His hands were always drawn to you, subtly grazing your face, resting on your palm, skimming your shoulders. Each tentative touch filled an echoing void within you, slowly diminishing it until all that remained were faint whispers of it.

Minho has cared for you, long before he understood you. He saw snippets and fragments of you, and he cared for the patched-up version he made up in his mind. And when you unlocked your heart for him, he only cherished it even more, silently molding his behavior so he wouldn't cross any of your boundaries.

He was hesitant at first, in holding your hands and kissing your lips. He still asks for permission, in that gentle voice of his, to touch you, in case you’re uncomfortable. Which you aren’t, because his hands on you are infused with care, fingertips dripping with unguarded attention and softness, for you.

You sigh contently, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck as his arms tighten around you. Comfortable and safe.

"What's your favorite word?" he suddenly inquires and you giggle slightly. He often asks you these random questions, as though he wished to understand you in the most ordinary of ways and to care for you in each.

"I think it's the word soft. Whoever thought of the word really nailed it. Nothing else could have depicted softness like this one."

"The word does sound really pillowy, and gentle."

"See, I really love gentle too! Why is the word gentle so gentle? Does that make sense?" Laughter tings your question as he grins, his nose brushing lightly against yours.

"It does. They both remind me of you, actually."

"Really?"

"Mm. You're still so soft and gentle, despite it all... If they ever tell me there is one kind person left on this earth, I'd come looking for you."

Sudden tears flood your eyes as a shaky exhale leaves your lips. It felt rewarding, in a sense, to have someone acknowledge the strength it takes to be kind, in a world that had dealt you nothing but harshness.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

"Sometimes..." you pause, racking your brain for the best way to word this. "Sometimes it scares me how much I've come to care for you. How you make opening up not sound as daunting as before."

You grab his hand into yours, fidgeting with his fingers. The familiarity of their touch helps you calm down. "I'm not saying you'll hurt me. I just... I can't help this tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me to be cautious. It's gotten quieter, but it's still there."

"That's just your past selves trying to protect you," he smiles softly at you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "When I told you I'll be here, for as long as you'll have me, I meant it. Doubts and all."

"But I don't want to be closed off anymore," you admit. "It's very lonely that way."

"I know it is, love. But it's what you knew best back then, hm? You shouldn't feel bad about it, you did what you had to do to protect yourself. I'm just here to protect you too now."

"You think I can no longer do it myself?" you tease, your hand threading through his silky hair.

"Of course, you still can. But two shields are better than one. Also, this is exactly why I work out."

"Will your muscles protect me from my mind?" you giggle and he nods proudly. "Have you seen these?" he flexes his arms, before snorting, a bit shyly, eyes squinting closed. He's saying nonsense to make you laugh, and it's warming your heart beyond belief.

"I think these should just stay wrapped around me," you grin, guiding his arms around your back once again.

"No complaints," he smiles, as you settle against his chest. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head and you close your eyes. Safe and comfortable- Minho.

✹✹✹

Summer has been kind to you. Or maybe it was you who has been kind to summer, your laughter filling its air until it could do nothing but mirror your happiness.

Summer tasted like love with Minho by your side. In clementines he peeled for you, feeding you each slice with a soft smile on his face. In spontaneous bike rides at six am, to chase sunrises you've never witnessed before him. In numerous books he bought so you’d read them to him, his head on your lap, a tranquil expression coloring his face. And although the months have all been sweet, there are two days that you remember particularly.

You don't mark up the time with dates, but rather with the new feelings Minho bestowed upon you- the first time you wanted someone to stay, and they did.  

"Baby?" Minho’s hand brushes against your shoulder and you startle, turning around to look at him. "Are you okay? You zoned out."

"I’m fine," the rehearsed lie slips from your mouth, long before you could think about it. A ping of guilt swarms your heart, you’ve promised yourself that you’d tell Minho about your true feelings, even if he couldn’t help you with them.

"Are you sure? You haven’t said a word since I came over..." He quickly glances at his watch, "Three hours ago."

"I’m sorry," you mumble, your thoughts swarming your head once again. You felt horrible for wasting his time. He had better things to do than sit with you in silence.

"I’m not asking you to apologize," he says cautiously as if he’s aware he’s threading along a dangerous line. You stay silent and he shuts his eyes closed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I just want you to be honest."

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

"What do you want from me?" you ask a bit breathlessly. You don’t know what you are saying, but you can sense your walls building up, higher than you could ever reach them.

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

"I am trying, okay? I’m trying, please." You plead; you’re unsure for what exactly. For him to stop prodding, because you don’t have answers for him, not yet. Not when you haven’t understood it yourself.

"I'm going for a walk," he says, abruptly standing. You stay frozen in your place, as he quickly slips his shoes on, before leaving your apartment. You’re trying and it isn’t enough for him.

You don’t move from your place as time slowly trickles by. The seconds morph into minutes and suddenly it’s been an hour and a half since Minho left. There is a tantalizing fear making you stay put as if you ever dare to move a limb, then the stillness would be shattered and Minho wouldn’t come back.

It’s hard to reroute your brain entirely- old habits creep up on you swiftly, and suddenly you’re pulled back into the old you, woven into the web of horrible thoughts stitching all around you. Change feels sweet, with Minho, it feels like hope and the taste of a new beginning, but it is scary and different. And the familiarity of what you were before him calls your name from time to time. It was horrible and lonely, but there were no surprises in it. You knew what to expect at all times.

You could’ve told him that you weren’t feeling good, that you didn’t feel like talking and Minho would’ve understood. Because this isn’t the first time this happened, and it happens to him too sometimes. So, he understands, more than anyone you know. But instead, you lied and denied and Minho left. And you can’t blame it on anyone but yourself.

You grab your phone, its sudden light burning your eyes. You blink repeatedly, as you dial Minho’s number. It rings and it rings, then it goes to voicemail. You try again, through blurry vision. It doesn’t even ring this time- straight to voicemail.

Minho’s left. He’s had enough. You can’t blame him.

Three swift knocks resound loudly on your door. You don’t remember reaching the doorknob, your body’s moving on autopilot, but you pull it open. Minho. Your hold on the handle tightens until your knuckles turn white. You can’t look at him, you don’t want to see his face as he leaves you.

"Why are you crying?" he whispers, dainty fingers gently wiping away your tears.

"Don’t go. Not you too," you manage to utter, and you hear Minho suck in a deep breath, before pulling you tightly to his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he says, as he buries your head in the crook of his neck. The familiar scent of his cologne washes over you- you’ve memorized its earthy notes by heart now, easily recognizable between a thousand smells.

"You've been away for two hours and I called and you- you didn’t pick up. I thought you wouldn’t come back."

"My phone died while I was outside and I lost track of time, and- please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." He leans away, cupping your cheek delicately. "Im here, you see? Let’s go on a walk, hm?"

"You were just out," you mumble and he smiles at you. "I wanna go with you."

Minho takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. He leads you outside, still clad in the bunny slippers he randomly bought you a week ago. His hand is warm in yours. His hand wouldn’t be warm if he was leaving you.

You walk in silence to the park near your home, and Minho sits you down on an empty bench. Your tears are dried up by now, cheeks cold from the night breeze; and his hand is still in yours.

"Chan didn’t leave our dorm for three days." He starts, clearing his throat. "He’s overworking himself, doesn’t even eat the food I make him. And I tried to tell him to take a break today. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t convince him. He’s probably still working on his music right now," he chuckles, but there is no trace of humor in the sound. "And then I come to you and you’re not okay. And I want to help but suddenly I’m pressuring you. And you’re trying, so hard and you’re doing so well and I’m pressuring you instead of helping. And I failed at being there for you both. What good I am if I’m not there for the people I lo- care about?"

"Don’t say that, please. You are good enough. More than enough," you cup his cheek, pressing his forehead on yours. "You’re always here. Don’t ever doubt that. I’m sure Chan appreciates everything you do for him."

"And you?" he asks, tone coated in such raw vulnerability that it knocks the breath out of you. At that moment, Minho was a plain hill, devoid of hidden nooks and crannies- nowhere for him to guard his emotions from you.

"Do you remember that night, when I asked you how I can help you feel yellow?" you ask after a while, and he nods, repetitive blinks rythming his silence. "I used to think that happiness was yellow, that sudden joy that drowns out the world around you. And I wanted to always feel yellow, the highest of highs. But that could only lead to another low, another extreme. I’ve since learned that true happiness is feeling peace when you lay in bed at night…  And for your heart to beat soundly from contentment."

"I remember feeling this way only once, a long time ago. I woke up to see the sunrise, but I was a bit late to it, so I missed the orange and the pink," you chuckle slightly, as the distant memory floods you. "But I saw the blue, this really soft blue, and as I looked at it a strange sense of serenity washed over me. As if, as long as I looked at that pastel blue, I’d be alright. And now…" You smile softly, your thumb delicately grazing his cheek, Now, I can just look at you. You are my blue."

Minho’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he looks at you, mouth slightly hung agape. You giggle quietly, before patting his head gently. "Thank you for staying," you whisper, and a sudden smile breaks out on Minho’s face. It’s so radiant- as if every star in this galaxy was ground to fine dust and then sprinkled into it. You can’t admire it for long since Minho crashes his mouth on top of yours, drawing you in for a kiss that leaves you breathless afterward.

"You know I had a really nice dream yesterday," he finally whispers against your lips, a newfound lightness in his voice. "I think this is the first time where my reality is much sweeter."

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

It’s a couple of days into August when Chan tells you that he has signed up with a producing agency- it’s a huge step for him, one he’s been rambling about each time you met him for the past few months. So now you’re over at his and Minho’s dorm, attempting to bake a congratulatory cake for Chan. It was Minho’s idea, one he mumbled into your ear nonchalantly, as if he didn’t wake up really early to scout all the ingredients you might need.

"Why is baking so much harder than cooking?" Minho whines, burying his head dramatically in the crook of your neck. You giggle, patting his back in faux sympathy.

"So, you're admitting you're not good at everything?" you tease and he straightens up instantly, brows furrowed as he looks at you.

"I didn't say I'm not good at it. I said it's harder than cooking," he drawls out and you hum in reply, a teasing "sure, sure" escaping your mouth.

"Do you know how to crack an egg with one hand? That's the cue that you're a great baker."

"Why would I when I have two hands?" you chuckle and he smiles cheekily, raising his eyebrows at you. "Well, I can do it."

"Fine," you huff, grabbing an egg onto your hand. "Teach me?" you smile sweetly and he grins satisfied, "Of course."

"Here, you just need to crack the egg gently into the side of the bowl. And then lodge your finger inside, slowly pulling the shell apart. Like this," he demonstrates and you nod in understanding.

"Your turn," he smiles and you follow his instructions, tongue poking against your cheek in utmost concentration.  

"Min look! I did it" You grin widely, turning around to show him the egg now dropped into the bowl.

"You did! I’m proud of you," he smiles, placing a tender kiss on your temple. You pause, the egg’s shell still tightly clutched in your hand. You didn’t drop it into the bowl, and someone’s proud of you for it.

 It’s late into the night, and your stomach is aching from laughing for hours on end. Your plates of cake are on the ground, with only crumbs left on top of it. Minho invited two of Chan’s closest friends over- Felix and Han, so now you’re all playing rounds of Uno, and the poor freckled boy is losing each time.

"This isn’t fair," Felix whines, before stealing a bite of the leftover cake on the table. "This is really good by the way," he compliments and you giggle, turning around to point at Minho, only to find him already looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

"It’s all him," you say, and Chan gets his face impossibly close to your boyfriend’s, a teasing smile on his face. "You love me so much."

"I don’t. Get back," Minho pushes his face away, but you can tell he’s lying, from the fond smile threatening to spill over his mouth.

"Sure," Chan sing-songs, before turning to look at you. You wink at him and he ruffles your hair affectionately, as he always does when he wants to tease you. "Thank you for the cake, yn."

"You’re welcome," you grin as an unfamiliar warmth spread through your chest. Is this how it feels to have a family? People you care for and who care about you in return?

Minho notices the sudden bittersweet expression etched on your face, so he grabs your pinky in his hand, squeezing it slightly. You turn your palm around, before blindly intertwining your fingers with his- something you’ve gotten much better at lately.

"We’ll get going," Han announces when it’s nearly midnight, as he and Felix both get up from the floor. "Sure you don’t want to come to the party?" Chan asks, eyes trained on you and Minho.

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

You stand up as well, following Chan to the door and stopping him before he leaves. "You don’t mind me staying the night, right? It’s your dorm too, so I should ask."

"Of course not. You can come over whenever, even if Minho isn’t here. You don’t ever have to ask me, okay?"

"Okay, thank you, Chan," you beam at him, relief coursing through you at his words.

Soon enough, the dorm is silent, and it’s only you and Minho once again. You go to clean up but Minho pulls you by your hand, ushering you toward his bedroom. "Let's leave it to tomorrow," he says, and his voice sounds like warm candle wax dripping down on you. You can’t say no.

You find that he’s already prepared a pair of pajamas for you, spread out nicely on the bed- his grey shirt and a pair of shorts he has apparently overgrown.

"You'll find a box there, under the sink, it’s for you," he announces, as you walk into the bathroom to change. It’s filled with anything you might ever need, tissues and makeup removal and pads and medicine, and your cherry shampoo.

"When did you prepare this?" you ask as you open the door wide for him. He peeks his head inside, eyes softening when they take a glimpse at your figure - wearing his shirt, in his bathroom.

"A month ago, or so. Just in case you ever needed to stay the night." He's so thoughtful, you're starting to believe that the word was molded after him. "Is it enough? do you need something else?" he asks tentatively and you shake your head, squeezing his hand lightly. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Of course. let's brush our teeth?" he smiles and you nod, grabbing the blue toothbrush he bought for you. He squeezes some toothpaste into it, and your eyes meet in the mirror. You can feel a blush creep up your face, to match the tip of his ears turning pink. It felt innocent to blush at the mere act of brushing your teeth together- at the domesticity of it, and the future hopes that lay within it.  

Minho washes his face with his cleanser and you do the same. He suddenly hoists you up the bathroom counter, before standing between your legs. his arms cage your body, as his doe brown eyes look up at you. "Do my skincare for me," he pouts and you giggle, diligently taking the moisturizer and applying it to his face.

You take your time, massaging it into his skin, rubbing soothing circles on his cheeks and the tender skin under his eye. His eyes close at your touch, body leaning forward and pressing onto your legs. You grab his lip balm, applying it evenly to his puckered lips, and then you kiss him. Softly, tenderly, hands going up and down his arms. His own find your waist, encircling it, thumbs skimming your sides.

You lean away, a giddy smile on your face. "Thank you for the lip balm," you say, before kissing the tip of his nose.

Minho's room smells like clean laundry and vanilla, courtesy of the candle he lit up. You've been here before, but this is your first time sleeping on his bed. He goes in first, before beckoning you in. You lay down on his silky pillow, your hair fanning all around you. Some strands of it go into your mouth, and you giggle faintly as you pull them away.

"Here," he says, leaning over your body and opening the drawer next to you. He takes out a hair tie, and a faint memory dances around in your mind- you tying up his hair at the convenience store near Limbo.

"You kept it?" you question incredulously, voice coming out in a faint whisper.

"I did," he says simply as if it's ridiculous for you to expect otherwise. "Can I tie it up for you?" he asks and you nod.

His fingers gather your hair, making sure no strands of it are escaping. They're magical, relieving every tension you have in your body. You feel him twisting the tie around, securing your hair in a low ponytail.

"All done." his voice is quiet, and so is the kiss he presses onto your shoulder.

You both lay down, facing each other. It's silent but it no longer scares you. Not when your fingers are grazing Minho's palm, tentatively, the way one dips their toes into the water to test its temperature. Your hands are dancing around one another, not yet holding each other, as if engaged in a dance only your body understands. His eyes are locked on yours- a brown shade so mesmerizing you wish you could paint the entire universe with it.

His gaze is always soft when it comes to you, pupils slightly dilated, eyelashes fluttering with each blink. They're so quick you almost can't catch them, as if he unconsciously wants the time in which he looks at you to last longer.

Minho's hand reaches behind you, before pulling the slipping comforter over your body. He tucks it in your sides, and warmth surrounds you everywhere; from him mainly. He's been so attentive to you tonight- a silent care you only truly appreciate when you've experienced a lack of it. It's as if he's pouring years' worth of missed love back into your life, and in return all the love you've held within, never bestowed upon anyone else, has found its sole destination in the man by your side.

Your hand circles his once again, and you watch intently the way your fingers graze one another, delicately, as if skimming on the edge of holding one another. You give in first, intertwining your fingers with Minho’s and squeezing them gently. They fit his perfectly, this is where they're supposed to be.

"I don't know what you’re doing to me," he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours once more. There is a newfound emotion gleaming in his gaze- incredulity, at the depth of his feelings.

"What do you mean?" you question, nuzzling closer to him. Your head finds its rest on his arm and he responds instantly by patting your hair.

"I want to keep buying toothbrushes for you." His voice is hushed and yet it resounds loudly within your being, as if shouted from a sky-high rooftop.

You exhale softly, curling your hand around the back of his neck, and pulling him down gently to your face. You press your lips on top of his, and they move slowly, deliberately, like a painter's careful strokes. Each touch of his lips against yours is there to make you feel something- things that he can't bring himself to say, so he shows.

You finally break apart, dazed from the raw emotions barging into your heart. You then lift your head slightly, planting a tender kiss on his forehead. Minho closes his eyes, as your lips linger in there far longer than necessary. They remain closed even after you pull away, and it is the look on his face that pushes you over the edge. The serenity painted across his features, but particularly, the trust. As if you could mold him however you want and he'd be grateful you ever touched him to begin with.

"I love you," you confess so suddenly, and the words feel foreign yet familiar as they stumble out of your lips. You expect a shift in the universe, a disastrous change as you verbalize this sentiment that's long haunted you. And yet, all that happens is Minho's eyes shimmering as they look at you. And you realize that you aren’t scared he'd twist the words and stab you with them. You know he'd cherish them, even if he didn't feel the same.

"I love you," he says back, a radiant smile lighting up his face, coloring each of his features in unadulterated happiness. Hearing those three words from him made your heart leap in your chest. There is so much more of what you feel that you wish to express. You’ve told him, but you want to show, to press your body to his so the feeling would emit from your heart to his own.

Your hand trails across his chest, and you feel his muscles constrict under your touch. "Can I?" you ask, gazes flickering between his eyes and the hem of his shirt. It's always about permission to you both- permission to touch, to feel, to kiss and the answer is always yes. Yes, yes, yes.

"Please," he whispers, and you tug his shirt quickly over his head. You are a goner after that when his hands caress your skin like you're delicate porcelain. He’s hovering over you, the candle's shadow dancing across his body. Your fingers are tracing every inch of his skin graced by the flickering light, which meant your hands were everywhere, and every touch of yours was mirrored by him. Every kiss he returned ten times fold, every gasp he drank in hungrily, only eliciting a louder one in return.

"Tell me if you’d like to stop," he smiled tenderly down at you, his nose nuzzling against yours. You never felt the need to. And as the night marched forward, you gradually grasped what the poets meant by ‘making love’. You felt as if you were truly making love, as if your every move conjured love in its purest essence between the two of you. The ebb and flow of your bodies served as a spell, heightening your emotions into a raw fervor. It was love that orchestrated your moves, binding you both in a cacophony of sweet sounds, meant for you only to hear.

Minho's gaze remained fixed on yours, as he uncovered parts of you you've never dared to show anyone. It only cemented every feeling you harbored towards him. And the safety. The safety of being in his arms. To be as bare as one could possibly be, and yet to still feel blanketed by his soft eyes on you. 

✹✹✹

Dainty snowflakes coat the outside world in a pristine white blanket. It’s a mesmerizing view, one you’ve grown to be grateful for these past few weeks since it signaled the return of winter, and with it, Minho’s birthday.

It's hard to resent snow when it welcomes the existence of the person you’ve fallen in love with.

The outside might be cold but you wouldn't know, not when you are nestled close to Minho, his legs thrown over your lap. You stare fondly at his figure, too engrossed in eating the birthday cake you’ve prepared for him- a vibrant green frosting and a picture of his three cats printed on top, just like he requested some time ago. You lean in a bit, wiping away a trace of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth. He smiles at you tenderly, angling his head to press a soft kiss on your thumb pad.

There is a growing lump in Minho's throat, but it doesn't suffocate him, since it's formed by your love for him- you remembered what he said about the birthday cake. He was joking, obviously. But the fact that you brought his ridiculous wish to reality warmed him beyond belief.

You rummage a bit in your place, hands tucked under the pillows, and then you take out a purple envelope. "Open it," you say as you place it on top of his lap. Minho puts his plate down, straightening out in his place before looking at you, a curious smile on his face.

"More surprises?" he asks, referring to the gift you’ve already given him- a pair of t-shirts, all with cats and silly scriptures imprinted on them.

"Mm," you hum, as Minho finally opens the envelope. He pauses, as his eyes rack furiously over the content of the letter. "What's this?" he asks dumbfounded, trying to fully grasp the meaning of what he's reading.

"Because of constellations, people often think that stars always live together in a cluster. But oftentimes, they are alone. Or... if they're lucky enough, they get to roam the universe with a partner. They call them a binary star. Like you and me." Emotion simmers beneath your words, and you continue, your voice a gentle undercurrent.

"It's comforting to know that other versions of us are going through this world side by side too. To know that long after we're gone, there would still be two stars discovering the universe together, orbiting around one another. A token of the love we lived." You lift your gaze to meet his, to find him staring in awe at you. You take a mental picture of this moment, adding it to the collection of the ones you already captured of him.

"Our love may not be revolutionary, we're only two humans out of billions that have adored before us. But our love is grand to me. I try..." you bite your lip, reaching out for his hand- it will guide you as you try to speak. "I always try to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, to tell you how much you do to me. I used to always hold my hand out, in the hopes that someone would grab it. But no one did, so I curled it into a tight fist. And I thought it'd stay this way, for the rest of my life. Until you came, and you unclenched my fingers gently, one at a time, and then you grabbed it into yours." Tears are trailing out of your eyes now, but you show no effort to wipe them. Happy tears shouldn't be swept away.

"Thank you for existing, my Minho," you smile softly at him, and he nods, tears brimming in his waterline, cheeks flushed pink at your words. "Thank you for kissing my finger pads and reminding me that there is still softness in this world, all embodied in you." You cradle his cheeks tenderly in your hands, trying your best to let your love seep through your fingertips into his soul.

"I think you've carved yourself into me, carved your name into my heart. Your roots intertwined with mine, and thanks to you, I managed to crack through the hard earth and bloom again. Thank you for making me feel the warm sun again. I was so so cold before you." You whisper the last part, like a sinner's confession, eager for it to be carried away, forgotten.

Minho brings your body to his, as he buries his face in your chest. You can feel slight tremors shaking his body, and you place soft kisses on his shoulder blade- soothing, calming. You are safe in my love for you, they spell out.

"I can't believe you’ve named stars after us," he mumbles against you, and your fingers thread through his hair gently, flattening out stubborn strands of it. "It's nothing," you smile and he shakes his head vehemently. "It's not- it's not nothing to be loved by you. It's everything to me."

He leans away, bringing your head down to press his lips into yours. It tastes sweet from the cake and salty from his tears. It tastes like healing. You both kiss for mere seconds and yet it feels like an eternity to you. As if your mind stretches out time with Minho, knowing how valuable it becomes with him. He presses his lips onto yours one last time, before exhaling softly, melting completely in your hold.

"As long as you're with me, I don't ever need to look at the sky," he whispers. "There are enough stars in your eyes for me."

✹✹✹

It’s late December and the fragrant aroma of hot chocolate fills your apartment. You’re preparing two cups of the cozy drink in your kitchen, while Minho watches you fondly, leaning casually on the doorway.

"Are you just gonna stare at me?" you giggle, turning around to toss him a sly smile.

"Do you need my help making hot chocolate?" he raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I wouldn't say no to a bit of emotional support."

"Ah, my bad," he playfully bows, walking over to you. Minho gently wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His bangs tickle the side of your face, akin to the brush of a butterfly’s wing, and a soothing sense of contentment washes over you as he holds you close.

Minho places a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, and the touch sends shivers along your spine. "This is for warming up the milk," he mumbles, adding another kiss to your neck, "and this for mixing in the hot chocolate powder," and a final one to your temple, "and this is for pouring it in cups."

"Why thank you," you giggle, turning around to hand him his cup. "Do you remember what episode we stopped at?"

"37," he replies instantly.

"I think you love this anime more than me," you pout jokingly. "I plead the fifth," he answers solemnly and you chuckle as you both make your way to the couch.

Merely one episode in and you can already tell that Minho is no longer focusing on the show. He’s absently swirling the drink in his hand, his gaze lost within his cup.

"What did the poor hot chocolate do to you?" you smile, a beacon of curiosity piercing through his daze. His head snaps up at the sound of your voice, turning around to look at you sheepishly. "Just zoned out."

"I noticed. What's on your mind?" you ask, lowering the volume of the TV to fully focus on him.

"There is an upcoming dance competition. It's at a regional scale and I'm just... wondering if I should participate."

"You should!" you fervently reply, "You're such a talented dancer. You deserve recognition for your hard work."

"I'll become very busy, though. It's already hard enough to manage this degree," he speaks softly as if he's not fully convinced of this excuse himself.

"I've never seen you as happy as you are when you're dancing. You'll handle it, and I'll be there for you too."

"I should do it, right?" he asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really should," you echo, your hand rubbing reassuringly across his arm.

"Okay. I will," he nods, and you beam at him, before pulling him in for a comforting hug.

"On second thought... Everyone will now see how talented my boyfriend is and they will fall in love with you," you playfully muse as you hold him close.

"But everyone's already in love with me," he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

"People throw themselves right and left at me, it's exhausting," he sighs, the giddy smile easily heard in his voice.

"Okay, now you're overdoing it," you giggle and he further buries his head in your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume. "Don't worry," he mumbles quietly, "I'm only ever yours."

As weeks meld into months, your days become a whirlwind of preparation for the dance competition; where each participant is required to create a choreography from scratch, for a song of their choosing. You witness firsthand the immense effort Minho pours into this, just as he does with everything he undertakes. He spent hours upon hours in the university's dance studio, and you were often there with him. While he practiced, you sat in a corner, working on your laptop. He only paused to kiss the top of your head before diving back into his practice.

He chose a song you've never heard before, called Taste. It was mesmerizing to witness him become a vessel for the melody, like an instrument attuned perfectly to the emotions the song tried to convey. His body moved sensually, flowing like fluid water, perfectly controlled by him. Every beat in Taste was matched with a move of his, powerful enough to capture you, gentle enough not to overwhelm you, like the ebb and flow of the waves brushing against the shore.

The first two months slipped through the hourglass of time in a breeze. And although Minho grew busier, you still both managed to carve out time for quick dates. Strolls by the ocean and spontaneous trips to the cinema- outings that helped you recharge fully once again. But the third month coincided with your midterm exams, casting a heavier cloud over both of your lives.

Minho became overwhelmed, quickly, bearing the weight of his two worlds. He was smart, immensely so, he could handle his classes with ease, retaining knowledge faster than anyone you knew. But the day only had twenty-four hours in it, and he couldn't possibly do it all- finding time to practice, study and take care of himself. So, you tried to handle the last part, as best as you could anyways. Exam seasons always took a heavy toll on you- both physically and emotionally. It also didn't help that you went down with a strong flu for two weeks, making your energy levels plummet to zero.

It was only three days before the start of your exams when a soft knock resounded on your door. You opened it to find an exhausted Minho. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, beads of sweat glistening on his upper brow.

"I'm tired," he whispers, eyes looking absolutely devoid of emotion as they align with yours. You smile softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside, "I know."

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."  

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish. 

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish. 

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved. 

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you. 

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode. 

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his. 

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too. 

✹✹✹

You are being distant. 

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam. 

And it's his fault. 

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were. 

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you. 

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you. 

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back. 

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you. 

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features. 

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again." 

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him.  "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes. 

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you." 

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin. 

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?" 

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad." 

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault." 

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong. 

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you. 

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere. 

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means. 

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you. 

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return." 

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him. 

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his. 

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?" 

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?" 

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too." 

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?" 

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too." 

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace. 

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore. 

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness. 

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known. 

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars. 

You should've known. 

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss. 

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him. 

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t. 

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily. 

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. 

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him. 

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch. 

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it." 

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest. 

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him. 

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it." 

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking. 

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly. 

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.  

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.   

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today." 

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

 Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination. 

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes. 

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

[jjkamochoso]

Rotten Right to the Core

Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Sanemi Shinazugawa x f!reader

Inspired by Charlie XCX’s song “Apple”; Sanemi worries about the traits he’s inherited from his parents…

Warnings: cussing, yelling, mentions of abuse, mentions of blood

[I guess the apple don't fall far from the tree/'Cause I've been looking at you so long/Now I only see me/I wanna throw the apple into the sky/Feels like you never understand me/So I just wanna drive/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport]

Each year as Sanemi grew older, he became more nervous to look at his reflection, afraid of what he might see. Would he retain the soft features of his mother? Or would his father’s presence haunt him as he stared into the eyes that reminded him of everything bad in this world? He hated feeling this way. Sometimes he would get so angry that he would break the mirror, desperate to erase the possibility of seeing the ghost of his father ever present on his face. After his rampage would finish, you were always there to dutifully clean up the mess, both physically and mentally. He was your lover, after all; taking care of each other was part of your promises to one another.

Today was one of those days where Sanemi grappled with his self worth.

Thankfully you were home, not having been sent on a demon slaying mission yet. As soon as you heard the crashing of broken glass, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Sanemi was a good husband—a great one, actually—and you knew that he had a violent upbringing. That’s why you never got upset at these outbursts; you couldn’t begin to understand how it felt to see the face of the man who brought your family so much pain look back at you every day of your life. You grabbed a dustpan and a broom on your way to the upset Wind Pillar.

“I’m coming in,” you said quietly, knocking on the door and opening it. You were met with Sanemi gripping the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with fury underneath the layers of blood dripping from his cut skin. The glass on the floor could wait—he needed to be bandaged. You opened the medical kit and dug through for tweezers and gauze. Sanemi stayed silent, still seething. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, ashamed at making such a mess. You didn’t care, though, you never did.

“I’m going to clean you up first and then I’ll get the glass, okay?” you told him, gesturing him to take a seat away from the damage he dealt. You sanitized the wounds on his knuckles before getting to work on extracting the small pieces of glass from the cuts. He barely flinched as you did this, making you frown. He must’ve been extra upset this time. When you started the bandaging process, he finally spoke up.

“I look like him. I hate it.” His voice trembled with fury. “I can’t stand knowing I’ll never be able to escape him.”

You listened intently in case he wanted to say something else, but he went quiet again. You were all done wrapping him up and placed a loving kiss on the freshly bandaged hand.

“You’re not him,” you whispered. “You’ve never raised a hand to me. You’ve never hurt me.”

Sanemi let out a humorless laugh, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Is that the standard for good husbands nowadays? What a joke.”

He abruptly stood, leaving the room. You sighed, knowing it was going to be a long day. You wished you had all the right things to say to him, anything to convince him that he’s not a carbon copy of his deadbeat dad, but you were at a loss. The only thing you could do was let him get his anger out elsewhere and he’d come to you when he was ready. You got down on your hands and knees and began to clean up the glass, careful not to cut yourself. You heard heavy footsteps re-enter the room.

“What are you doing?” Sanemi barked out.

“I’m cleaning up.”

“Would you stop? I can do it myself.”

You frowned again. “I know, I’m just trying to help.”

“Just stop, okay? I don’t need your pity!”

You ignored him and went back to your task at hand. That sent Sanemi over the edge.

“Seriously, get the fuck up. I said I’ll do it!”

You weren’t phased by his raised voice. “And I said I’m helping.”

Sanemi just stared at you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. All of a sudden he stopped, his bloodshot eyes widening at the memory that entered his mind.

His father’s cup sloshed around with his alcohol of choice for the night. In one drunken movement, he spilled the contents onto the floor.

His mother lowered her eyes. “I’ll clean that right away.”

She took hold of the nearest rag and got down on her hands and knees, but his father didn’t care for her kindness, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hoisting her up before throwing her to the side.

“Get up! Do you think I’m some sort of useless child?” he screamed. “I can use a rag you idiot. I don’t need your help!”

“Sanemi? Are you-”

“You’re just like her,” he choked out. “You’re just like her and I’m just like him.”

You didn’t know what memory spurred that reaction but you figured it was a bad one. You reached out to comfort him but he was gone in an instant. You heard the front door slam shut and you knew he would be gone until evening. He couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as you during times like these when you reminded him of his mother as he was acting like his father. He couldn’t stand knowing he could never truly rid himself of the tendencies that were passed down from the man he was unfortunate enough to be born to.

[I guess the apple could turn yellow or green/I know there's lots of different nuances/To you and to me/I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds/But I can't help but get so angry/You don't listen to me/To the airport, the airport/The airport, the airport/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night/I'm gonna drive, gonna drive all night]

Sanemi hurried out the door, desperately needing air and wanting to put as much space as he could between himself and you. He couldn’t believe he let himself get so angry, especially at you. The recollection of his father yelling at his mother the same way he had just done to you was a grim realization for Sanemi that he was following in his father’s footsteps. He picked up his sword and began hacking away, channeling his frustrations into obliterating the training dummy. The more he thought about his previous actions, the more he raged, howling winds swirling around him in an outward reflection of the storm inside himself. He had completely lost himself in his fury, only halting when the dummy was chopped into tiny pieces. The scene in front of him was reminiscent of the one he left inside; yet again, Sanemi proved he only knew violence. He threw his sword away from him, disgusted with his actions, before falling to his knees and shoving his face in his hands. Why couldn’t he have been more like his mother? Calm, caring, loving. She was the light in the perpetual darkness of his father. Weren’t his hands, though calloused and stained with blood (literally and figuratively), capable of handling things with grace and a nurturing touch? Why, instead, was he destined to destroy everything? Or—even worse—was this not destiny in play, but his own choices leading him to blaze through life and hurt everyone close to him? He knew he had the ability to choose love and show the softer side of his personality, he had done it plenty of times in the past. You, his loving wife, had made it easier for Sanemi to follow a more peaceful path, encouraged him to embrace his kinder side, yet he still found himself vexed over little things too often for his liking. It was like vengeance and anger were innate needs, something he couldn’t give up no matter how hard he tried. You deserved better than him; he had made that clear from the very start of your relationship. You didn’t believe him for one second, knowing he had goodness in his heart as he had shown glimpses of his affectionate nature many times. The protective walls he had constructed inside himself were there for a reason but you often broke through them, Sanemi never understanding why you would commit yourself to such a grueling task with no reward at the end (you would disagree as being loved by him was the greatest reward you could ever want). Countless nights were spent by him wondering why you continued to be married to someone like him. He saw no positives for you in your union and when he expressed that, those were the only times it was you who was angry rather than him.

[I think the apple's rotten right to the core/From all the things passed down/From all the apples coming before/I split the apple down symmetrical lines/And what I find is kinda scary/Makes me just wanna drive

I wanna know where you go/When you're feeling alone/When you're feeling alone, do you…]

Sanemi had stayed crumpled on the ground until the sun threatened to dip below the horizon, signaling that nightfall was arriving soon. He gingerly walked inside the house, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that came with his absence. It was dark in every room, save for the few candles you left burning in the kitchen to signal the plate of dinner you had left out for him. Sanemi’s stomach was in knots; he had left you all alone yet you still cooked his favorite food for him.

Some husband I am.

He savored the bites of ohagi as he sat in silence, wondering where you were. Had you finally had enough of him and left? No, you wouldn’t do that without telling him first. You were many things but you certainly weren’t heartless. Worry started settling into him as the sun wasted away. You shouldn’t be out after dark. Sure, you were a demon slayer, but he’d seen the most talented members of the corps slain when they were caught off guard. He gulped down the last of his food and took off in a hurry; to where, he didn’t know. He had no idea where you went when he would storm out. Cussing under his breath, he checked all the rooms of the mansion again.

“Y/n?” he called out. Nothing. Now he was starting to panic. He yanked one of the extra swords from the cabinet in your shared bedroom and tore through the door to the outside. He investigated the surrounding area, yelling your name but getting no response. His mind was scrambled, his breath scattered.

Where could she be?

As soon as that thought hit his brain, he knew exactly where you were.

He found you in the garden.

You were sitting on a stepping stone, your gaze settling on the flowers surrounding you.

“You shouldn’t be out in the dark. It’s not safe.”

Sanemi’s voice, having lost its harshness, made you smile. He was always worried for others and took on such a protective role; how he couldn’t see the positive impact he had, you didn’t know.

“I have my sword,” you replied, not facing him. “And I have you.”

Sanemi’s face burned at his wife’s saccharine tone. He took up a spot next to you, your shoulders brushing together. He wanted to apologize for his behavior today but he didn’t know how to start.

He was his father’s son: brash, unrelenting, unstoppable.

He was his father’s son: he was a coward.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

He furrowed his brow. “Why the hell are you apologizing? I’m the jerk here.” He took a deep breath, looking off into the distance as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I’m… I’m sorry. For everything. Today and in the past. It sickens me knowing the woman I love has to see the man that I hate.”

You reached out to hold his hand and this time he allowed you to, grasping you with a featherlight touch.

“I’m no good,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why you stay.”

He awaited your usual heated response, but it didn’t come.

“Sanemi, look at me.”

You spoke with such authority that he didn’t dare defy you. His white hair resembled the color of the moon, both shiny brightly in the dark of night.

“I love you. All of you. You are not the monster you think yourself to be, not even close. Yes, you have a temper. Yes, you can get incensed on a whim. Those are not the world ending traits you think them to be. You are a good man, Sanemi. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Maybe then you could understand my love for you.”

Sanemi felt his heart thumping wildly in his chest. You always comforted him in ways he never knew possible, but something about tonight was making your sentiments affect him more than usual.

“From what I know, your father would’ve never owned up to his mistakes,” you continued, using your free hand to rub circles on his back. “You’re already a million times better of a man than he ever was.”

“Do you remember when we found those beetles you love so much?” you asked, earning a confused look from Sanemi as he nodded. “You raised the babies into healthy adults. That takes patience and compassion, both of which you have an abundance of in here.” You poked his exposed chest. “How about the time I was so sick I couldn’t stand? You took care of me all day and night, barely getting a wink of sleep yourself because you were so concerned.”

Sanemi did remember all of that.

“I was so scared you were gonna die,” he mumbled. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

“Those situations are what prove how great of a husband, of a person, you truly are.” You squeezed his hand. “Look inside yourself, my love. You’ll see that there’s traits you inherited from both parents. It’s up to you to decide who you’d rather embody, nothing is set in stone or chosen for you. I think you’ll find you take after your mother more than you think.”

Sanemi got up, brushing off his pants before offering you his hands to grab as he hoisted you up, pulling you into a warm hug. He nuzzled his nose into your neck, taking steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his eyelashes fluttering closed as he held you, “for being by my side. For loving me. For believing in me.”

As he stood there with you, cradling your body with his own, he was reminded of a substantially better memory than the one from that morning.

“Goodnight mommy!” Sanemi had said, his little feet sprinting as he threw himself into his mother’s open arms. She was sporting her large, beautiful grin that he missed seeing so often.

“Goodnight, my child,” she responded, burrowing her nose into his messy hair before placing a gentle kiss there.

He smiled to himself, kissing the top of your head.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter One (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference,Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the “Cryptid Rengoku” character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Y/N Perspective.

It's early, too early. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. For weeks now, I've followed the same routine: waking up, wandering the forest surrounding my village, and searching. Every day, I look for a sign that something, or someone, is out there. Yet somehow, I always come up empty-handed. It's not just me, though. My entire group is burnt out on this whole thing.

Searching for monsters has never been a passion of mine, but when you're down to your last cent and someone offers you free food and board in exchange for your help, how can you say no?

I still remember when Miss Tamayo approached me. It was snowing hard up in the mountains, and she saw how badly I was struggling in the cold. She was kind, took me in, and talked to me at length about the mystical monsters and beings her group had been studying and searching for. I'll admit, it was interesting, but I didn't believe any of it was real.

We've all heard the tales—the stories of the creatures we now call the Hashira, the terrifying monsters that once protected their respective villages and residents. While they made for nice campfire stories, there was simply no way these beings existed. Even if they did, why would they stay hidden? Wouldn't they seek revenge on the villagers who used them and then cast them out? None of it made any sense to me.

Despite voicing my concerns and disbelief to Miss Tamayo, she still wanted to help me, as long as I was willing to help her. And that's why I'm here now.

I'm in the middle of this forest. The sky is grey and cloudy, with rain surely on the way. It's foggy, and visibility is poor. Since I'm new and have only been working with these monster hunters for a few weeks, they've given me a basic route—one that minimizes the risk of encountering a real threat. Tamayo wanted me to look for a special flower that supposedly grows around here, but I haven't had any luck yet.

If I can't even find a flower, I don't feel like I'll make a promising monster hunter. At least, that's what Yushiro, one of Tamayo's most relentless supporters, thinks. Though we are civil to each other's faces, he openly voices his concerns about having me around. He says it's a waste of time to bring along someone who doesn't even "believe in the cause."

I suppose I can't argue with him too much. I've walked this same route every day for a few weeks now and still haven't come across the flower Tamayo sent me to find. Maybe it really is a waste of time—

My thoughts are interrupted by a rustling sound in the distance. My body immediately tenses up. I glance around, but the thick fog makes it hard to see. All this talk and thinking about monsters and mythical creatures is starting to get to me.

What was that? Did I lose the path? No, that's just me overthinking it, thanks to Tamayo and Yushiro filling my head with stories. I'm just being paranoid.

The rustling resumes, this time from the opposite direction. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Tamayo? Yushiro? Is that you?" I call out into the fog.

I wait for their reply, but none comes. Adding to the unease, the air feels hotter now, and a strange clicking noise echoes through the area, growing closer and closer.

What should I do? Should I run?

As the clicking grew louder, I made up my mind and began to sprint through the fog, knocking branches and anything else in my path aside. At some point, I lost my footing. The trail must have ended, and I twisted my ankle on a tree root protruding from the ground.

My ears were filled with the sound of my own breathing, and it felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. This can't be happening. I was sent on an easy route to fetch a flower, not to be chased by some crazy monster.

I tried to stand, but the pain in my ankle was too much. I strained to stay silent and listened for the clicking sounds; they were faint but still there. I had to get out of here.

Grabbing onto the trunk of the tree I had tripped over, I pulled myself up. It hurt, but the adrenaline rush made it barely bearable.

The fog was finally starting to lift, and I could see the path I usually followed. I must have accidentally stepped off it while running. As long as I could get back, Tamayo would be able to help me with my ankle.

As I started to move slowly, a red light in the distance suddenly caught my attention. Squinting, I tried to make out what it could be and then realized it was two red lights, gradually moving closer to me.

Eyes.

Panic surged through me as I scrambled to move, trying to go as fast as my injured ankle would allow, grabbing onto anything I could for support.

This can't be happening. I refuse to believe any of this is real. How could all those stupid campfire stories be true? And why, out of all the monster hunters in Tamayo's group, did I have to be the unlucky one?

I wanted to scream and yell for help, but I was so deep in this forest nobody from the safe house would hear me.

It hurts. It hurts so much. It feels like my body is going to give out any minute, but my mind is racing, forcing me to keep moving.

The clicking is now accompanied by a deep growling, making it sound all the more intense. Whatever this thing was, it sounded terrifying. And those deep red eyes didn’t really help with my imagination.

Then it happened. I had to take a knee. The strain on my ankle kept getting worse the more I moved. I'm done for. Whatever this thing is, it's going to kill me.

At least Yushiro can look at my corpse and say, "I told you so."

As the clicking and growling got even closer, there was a small thump to the ground as whatever was about to kill me approached. I shut my eyes and prepared for whatever my fate was.

I felt it stop a few feet behind me. This monster is just staring at me. I’m too afraid to face it. I don’t want the last thing I see to be those glowing red eyes.

"What are you doing? Why did you run away?"

My heart nearly stopped. That voice—it was deep, loud, and had an eerie, echoing effect. Was this monster talking to me?

I took a deep breath. What should I say? Should I beg for my life?

"I asked you a question, human. Why are you running away?"

I could hear a hint of annoyance in its tone. The last thing I wanted was to anger a mythical being. I slowly turned my body. The sight that met me made speaking even more difficult.

It was tall. He was tall—about eight and a half feet.

He had blonde fur and a long mane of hair with red accents scattered throughout, tall pointed ears, and those glowing red eyes.

My lips parted. I wanted to answer, to beg for my life and apologize for intruding. But his appearance was so intimidating, so... enchanting.

I froze as he moved closer.

"Can you not speak, human? Are you afraid of me?" He chuckled. His laugh was as intense as his voice.

"I can speak," I managed to choke out.

His eyes seemed to light up, and he smiled.

Dear God. Those teeth. Long and sharp. If he wasn’t terrifying before, he definitely was now. I felt my heart beating rapidly. I knew I was done for, but this was all too much.

"What is your name, human? I've seen you walk this path for days now. I deserve to know who intrudes on my territory daily." Instead of anger, his tone was oddly amused.

"My name is Y/N L/N." I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice but didn’t do a great job.

"Well then, Y/N L/N. You wandered away from your usual trail as soon as I got close to you. Why did you run away? Aren't you supposed to be looking for me?" He laughed, a mocking sound.

"You are a 'monster hunter,' aren't you?"

I didn't know what to say. He was right. I was supposed to be looking for him. That was the whole point of Tamayo taking me on, but I hadn’t expected it all to be so real.

"I didn’t believe in monsters. I was sent to look for a specific flower," I mumbled.

"Didn't believe?" He moved closer, towering over me. "Tell me then, Y/N L/N, do you believe now?" He smiled, those sharp teeth gleaming.

I felt my body run cold. He was terrifying, not just in appearance but in his entire demeanor.

“Yes, I do.”

For a moment, silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of the wind and his slight clicking.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“I am Kyojuro Rengoku, the protector of this land and its residents.” The echo in his voice cemented my assumptions.

There was no mistaking it—I had run into one of the Hashira.

I’d heard the stories, the legends of Rengoku, the fierce protector of this area. He was kind until he wasn’t. Then, humans saw him as a threat and banished him to the forest.

He kneeled down in front of me, still on the ground.

“You don’t seem too surprised. Have you heard of me?” His ear twitched, and I noticed the massive tail behind him curl around his body.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re the Hashira associated with fire.”

He perked up at my response.

“So, my legends live on! How amusing!” He laughed.

His voice was so loud, it was almost funny.

Why is he acting like this? I thought he would have killed me by now.

“You’re hurt,” he said, gesturing to my ankle.

“Yeah... I sprained it,” I replied, shifting awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. From running away from me.” His tail flicked slightly, and a smirk formed on his face.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I was completely at a loss. Here I was, casually having a conversation with one of the scariest and deadliest creatures to walk the earth.

“What are you going to do with me? If you’re going to kill me, can’t you just get it over with?”

He looked at me, a mix of confusion and amusement in his eyes.

“Why are you so desperate to die so soon? Do you not enjoy my company?” His voice echoed with a chuckle.

Is he being serious right now?

“No— I’m just... confused. Why are you still talking to me? I’m a monster hunter, not a very good one, but still a monster hunter. Shouldn’t you just kill me and get it over with?” I was desperate for an answer, needing to know if I should prepare to die or not.

He stared at me for a moment, as if deep in thought, his ears twitching slightly.

“No, I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he said plainly. “However, only on the condition that you continue to return here. Tell no one of your kind about me and continue to come see me.”

I sat there, dumbfounded. This terrifying creature was willing to spare my life as long as I returned for his company?

“Why would you want to see me again?” I asked.

He smiled, baring his long, sharp teeth, his ears perking up.

“Because, Y/N L/N, you are the first person to talk to me in a long time. To be quite honest, something inside me is telling me that you and I are really going to like each other.”

His tone shifted, becoming more sinister. What did this creature have planned for me?

And why was I excited to find out?

Next>>

[disasterofastory]

Forget them all, Wendy (Brahms Heelshire x Reader)

Forget them all, Wendy // Brahms Heelshire Masterlist Brahms Heelshire x Reader Kinktober 2023 - 4/14 Warnings: breastfeeding kink or nursing kink I'm not sure, mommy kink

Summary: You and Brahms find a new kink. Maybe this is his favorite one.

A/N: I feel weird using a Peter Pan quote in a story like this, but hey, it fits. Enjoy!

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where…" Your voice falters in the middle of the sentence, and your hold on the book loosens. "What are you doing, Brahms?" Your question is pointless, though. You can clearly see what he is doing when you look down at the man with his head still resting on a pillow on your lap. Your other hand that's not busy holding the book is in his hair, playing with his dark curls. "It's boring," he grunts, still pulling and pushing on your shirt. You frown. Your voice is almost upset. "How can you say that about Peter Pan?" The only answer you get is a low, determined grunt. "Now, you are just being rude," you tell him, putting down the book when it's clear he won't let you go back to read. "Brahms!"

Before you know it, the man pushes up your shirt to your neck and tugs on the cups of your bra. Your breasts spill out in front of his demanding eyes. Your nipples harden at the sudden caress of cold air. "Wait," you groan, pulling on your shirt to drop in next to you on the couch and reach back to get rid of your bra as well. The frown between Brahms's thick brows eases at your willingness.

You don't even want to fight against him anymore. After one morning, when you woke up to him sucking on your tits, his obsession with your boobs just grew to the point he was ready to jump on them at any moment of the day. Feeling his hands on you while you are busy with something else doesn't even surprise you anymore. Besides, you found out rather quickly that sometimes, letting Brahms have what he wants is easier than pushing him into a tantrum that can keep going for hours.

A gasp escapes your lips when Brahms latches on your nipple while palming your other breast. His large hand cups your flesh, digging his fingers into your softness just enough not to cause pain. Your hand is still in his hair, teasing and tugging. Your fingers tighten and loosen around his dark curls as pleasure flares through your body. Your spine arches from the back of the couch, pushing yourself closer to him. Your nipple is a hard pebble between his closed lips. His tongue flicks and swipes over the sensitive bud. His cheeks are hollow as he sucks more of your breast into his warm, wet mouth. "Brahms!" You cry out his name. "This is what you needed, baby? Mommy's tits in your mouth?" Your sudden question shocks both of you. His sucking stops, and your fingers in his hair pause too. For a second, panic settles deep in your belly. "Brahms-" you start, but your words turn into a moan when the man grabs onto your tits even more. "Brahms!" His eyes are on you the whole time as he suckles on your nipples, watching your reaction to everything he does. His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of your half-closed eyelids when he tugs on your nipple that isn't in his mouth. His thumb rubs over it before pinching it again to make you moan some more. "Do you like it?" You ask him. "When I call myself your mommy?" Your nipple glints with his saliva when he is willing to let it go finally. His lips are red and swollen, and you want to lean down to kiss him, but your position makes it difficult. "Yes," he answers. His voice is hoarse and close to whining. "Yes what?" You ask him, smirking. You tug on his hair when he doesn't answer fast enough for your liking. His eyes fall shut for a second, and a groan escapes his chest. You can feel it rumbling under your palm. "Yes, mommy," he corrects himself. "Good boy," you tell him. "You are my good boy, Brahmsy." He moans again, wanting to turn back to your tits. There is a pink flush on his cheeks that makes him even more adorable to you. He starts to lap on your nipple again and grope the other one. He enjoys the weight on his palm and tongue. "Come on, Brahms," you coo at him. "Suck on mommy's tits until you cum." Without his noticing, his hips rock upward every now and again. The tent in his trousers is obvious. His lips are around your nipple again, forcing as much of your soft flesh in his mouth as he can while your hand moves further down his body. You can feel his abs clenching under your palm and his hips jerking when you slip under the soft fabric of his pants. Your fingers curl around his erection, twisting gently on the warm skin. Brahms's moan is muffled by your breast. He sucks like his life depends on it. "You are my baby, Brahms," you praise him. He loves it when you do that, and you enjoy seeing him straighten himself with pride when you do it. "And my big, strong man." At this point, your nipple feels numb, and his hips pump up, fucking your hand. You can feel his pre-cum flowing down on your finger. Your thumb ghosts over the small hole at the tip of his cock. His neck stretches with a muffled moan, and you tighten your hold around him. "Cum for me, Brahms," you tell him, stroking him faster. "Cum for mommy." Your nipple falls out of his mouth as he moans and thrusts one more time. His wide chest heaves and a vein bulges out on his neck. You can't tear your eyes away from him. He looks like a fallen angel. "Good boy, Brahms," you tell him softly, caressing his hair while he calms down. "What do you think about a shower?" You can see the protest in his eyes, so you continue quickly with a smirk. "And mommy will bathe you."

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Part 6 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge @hellishjoel

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: about 4500

Warning: Mild smut, mild angst

Joel opened his eyes, a damp sweat glistened his body and he had to consciously think about where he was for a moment. He swallowed hard, feeling the parched nature of his throat and then glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

It was just a few minutes past three o'clock in the morning and the only relief from the heat came from the open window that he had climbed through. Next to where he laid you slept on your side with your back to him breathing evenly.

For a moment Joel just stared at you and a part of his mind began to wander to places he actively tried not to. If nothing else he was a realist, and Joel clearly knew all of the heightened emotions were a result of being in the early throes of infatuation - or so that’s what he told himself. Still he couldn’t deny that you made him feel alive for the first time in what felt like forever. He felt youthful and full of life whenever he thought of the two of you, and that feeling made his stomach twist into knots.

Joel sighed and ran his hands over his face and then glanced at the clock again. He knew it would be smart for him to go, given that your parents would be waking up for work within a few hours. He, too, had to be at work in the morning and sneaking out once the sun rose would make the task all the more difficult. It had been risky enough sneaking over there, and one wrong move could have cost him the trust of his neighbors, to say the very least. There was a small part of Joel, somewhere in his subconscious, that almost wanted to get caught so they could just come clean, and let the chips fall where they may.

He took a deep breath. From the position where he laid he could see the very top of his roof through the window. The truth was he didn't want to go back home; but he knew he had to.

"(Y/N) ." Joel whispered your name at first and then he called your name a little louder, "(Y/N) ." He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, prompting your eyes to flicker open. You turned to him with a smile and placed a hand over his, anticipating an intimate encounter given the late hour that he was waking her.

"Hey." Your eyes began to adjust and you pulled him down into a kiss.

Joel reciprocated, making the task of leaving all the more difficult. Intimacy was something that had been missing in his marriage for so long, and since it fizzled out it was nonexistent. You were the first woman he truly felt a connection with in a long time. Joel tried to ignore his growing feelings, but the logical thoughts grew foggy as you kissed him in the dark.

"I have to go," Joel whispered, not wanting to part from you.

"No, you don't," You whispered back, pulling him back to you.

He kissed you again for a moment before pulling away. "I have to. Your parents will be up soon."

"What time is it?" you arched your neck toward the side of the bed where he slept and smirked, "It's only three-thirteen."

"I have to get home before the sun comes up, honey." Joel smirked and kissed you again.

"Are you a vampire or something?"

He chuckled and touched your face before reluctantly sliding out of the bed.

"You're really going?" You asked him, perching yourself up on your forearms as you sat up in bed.

Joel reached for his pants and slid them on over his boxer-briefs.

"Who's going to take care of that for you?" you went on, motioning to his erection beneath the fabric of his pants.

He snickered, "I'll have to fuckin' take care of it myself."

You scrunched your nose. "That's no fun."

"Mmm..." Joel placed his hands on the edge of your bed and touched his lips to hers. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go either." You kissed him a little harder and Joel, like the morning before, had to consciously force himself to part from you. When he reached down onto the floor for his shirt you sat up completely and stared at him with disappointed eyes.

"I'd be getting up in a few hours anyway." Joel slipped on his shoes next and then reached into the nightstand for his keys and cell phone. For the several seconds to follow he just stood there contemplating taking everything off and climbing back into bed. A part of him wished he hadn't woken up in the first place. Had the night just been a little bit cooler he would still be sleeping beside you.

"I know." You looked down and managed a smile. "It's not like I should expect anything from this."

Joel's eyebrows pressed together and he looked down toward the floor. "I'm, uh... I'm not just bailing on you here."

"Yeah, I know." You knew he was being truthful; though you also knew he did have to go. If someone caught him in the confines of your bedroom there would be hell to pay from all angles.

Joel stared down at you for a moment and then let his eyes shift to the clock again. He cleared his throat and then recaptured your gaze. "Send me a text tomorrow."

You nodded. "Okay."

"Before eleven." He tipped his mouth up in a smirk. "I don't think I can wait that long again."

Joel's words made your whole body tingle. You smiled wider and agreed to his requests with another, "Okay."

"Okay." Joel nodded and swallowed hard before carefully sliding up the screen on the window that separated them from the world outside.

You got out of bed and hurried over beside where he shifted himself out. "Be careful," you said in a voice a little too loud.

When Joel leapt down onto a low-hanging roof he braced himself before glancing back up at her. "Put some clothes on," he said quietly with a smirk, staring up at your bare body as you hung halfway out the window. "You'll excite the neighbors."

"I already did." You giggled as you stared down at him, watching as he easily stuck the landing of the next jump to the lawn before turning back to face you. This time he didn't say anything. He just gave a simple wave and hurried in a stealthy fashion through the darkness toward his house next door.

You sighed, able to take in his figure all the way until he disappeared through the back door of his home. The exciting parts were equally as toll-taking as the disappointing parts of the secret romance. For every high there was an equal low, and knowing that Joel had to go back to his own house because he lived a life completely separate from you was a depressing blow to your emotional state.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be separate, you thought, in time.

You ducked back into your room and closed the screen before plopping back down in your bed by yourself. Rather than lay in the middle as you typically would, you laid on the side you had been on when Joel was next to you, letting your arm drape across his side of the bed.

This part sucks, you thought. For the first time you thought you might have it in you to cry, but you willed your mind to be strong. From the beginning of it all you knew there was no easy way out. Still, it didn't make the feelings any easier to deal with.

You tried to get comfortable there without him that night. You tried to tell yourself that you were tired, or needed sleep, and even that it was crazy to think that you might be falling for your older neighbor, particularly so soon. None of it worked. You couldn't convince yourself of any of it. You knew there was only one remedy to the ill-feelings you were experiencing and that was seeing him; being with him - getting your fix.

"Fuck it." You whispered the phrase to yourself and climbed out of bed, throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank top before flinging the window open again. You glanced down at the roof below, which you acknowledged was an easy drop. As a teenager you and your friends had snuck out to sit on the roof, and so it wasn't something you hadn't done before. Still, it had been long enough where your stomach was in knots before you finally got the guts to leave the window ledge.

Your bare feet hit the roof shingles with a quiet thud, though you managed to hold your balance and brace yourself before eagerly making your way to the second part of the little mission you created for yourself. The jump down to the yard was higher than you thought, though it, too, was a doable leap. Without thinking, You crept to the side, took a breath and leapt from the low roof down to the grass.

A small surge of pain crept into the bottoms of your feet, trickling up your right ankle, though the pain wasn't debilitating. You took a second to shake it off, rubbing the area on your ankle before hurrying across the lawn into Joel's backyard and up to the back door.

You let out a sigh before reaching for the handle, only to be disappointed when it didn't fling open from your force.

Damn it... You swallowed hard, noting in your mind that you had, for some ridiculous reason, suspected the door would just be left open as if Joel would have known you would be coming to him. Again, without thinking or caring, your fist knocked at the screen door that sat as the initial barrier to Joel's home.

You felt the sweat in your palms as you waited with closed fists and a heavy heart. The pain in your ankle thudded with each beat of your heart, though you barely felt it when the adrenaline kicked up a notch. Before you could knock again you heard movement from inside and then the locks on the big, wooden door twitched before it was flung open and you were face to face with Joel again through the screen of the storm door.

He stared back at you, looking even better than he had a few minutes before and clad in nothing but his underwear again.

You didn't have it in you to wait. You reached for the handle of the storm door, tugging at it, though it felt silly when you recognized it was the door that had been locked from the get-go.

Joel didn't hesitate. He popped open the lock and pressed the handle, allowing you to burst through the door. Immediately, your lips connected with his and Joel reciprocated, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you with a hard, needy passion as if you hadn't seen each other in months.

Both of you gasped out a breath when the make-out session was prolonged with such an intensity that left each of you breathless.He used his foot to kick the back door shut, before releasing you briefly to re-lock it and then pulled your back to him with force.

"Couldn't fucking wait until tomorrow?" he barely got the words out and exhaled into your mouth before kissing you several times in a row again.

"No," You admitted.

"How the fuck did you get out?" Joel grinned in darkness without letting up his pursuit of your body.

"Window." You laughed into his kiss, making him laugh back. You moaned as his hard-on dug into your pelvis and it made you need him more by the second. "God... I want you."

Joel held your tighter and with a smacking sound, his lips parted from yours. "You fuckin' got me.” His breath hitched in his throat as he towed you down the hall.

Once in the bedroom you pawed at his body like a needy kitten, mewling his name as Joel pulled your pants off, bringing your underwear down with it as he dropped his own to his ankles. A second later he stepped out of them and climbed on top of you on the bed.

Your mind was clouded with passion as you kissed in a sloppy, needy fashion. You felt him enter you without even trying - like your bodies were meant for one another. It was a hasty, breathless motion that left him thrusting into you a second later with an arm hooked beneath the bend of your left leg.

“Joel,” you mewled his name and let your head fall back into the pillow, exposing your neck for him to devour.

“You are so fucking perfect,” he whispered, clutching your earlobe with his teeth as his hips still thrusted a steady rhythm.

You hugged your arms tighter around him, holding him as close to you as possible. It was right then that you realized you were falling in love. It didn’t matter that you had only known Joel for a short time. Nothing in your life had compared to this, nevermind prepared you for it. The logical part of your brain felt it was too soon, but your body, heart and soul all teamed up against it and easily won the fight.

After coaxing another orgasm from one another, you began to wonder if you'd ever be fully satisfied - if you would ever think, ‘okay, I've had enough’. Because even after you laid still in the darkness, you knew you could have had him again.

“Stay,” Joel whispered into the center of your ear. The line word sent tingles down your body.

“Okay,” you whispered back, placing your hand over his across your stomach. You laid on your back facing the ceiling and continued to hold Joel close as his body cuddled around yours.

Who cares if my parents find out. It was the first time you'd had that thought.

The relationship was passionate and impulsive but it wasn't wrong. Even if they didn't approve at first, you knew in time they would understand. They always did.

Right?

You weren't going to worry about it right then in the early morning hours. You had got what you wanted - and that was falling asleep in Joel Miller’s arms.

There was a beeping sound in the distance that grew louder and louder as you shifted from dreaming to awake. When your mind caught up you knew it was Joel's alarm. Your eyes snapped open and you glanced over to his side of the bed.

Joel's snoring almost overtook the sound of the alarm, and you finally reached across him to turn it off.

"Oh shit." You glanced at the time, noting it was a half hour later than the time he'd set the night before. You suspected that Joel had hit the snooze button in his sleepy, half-conscious state.

"Joel." You hovered over him, shaking him until he groaned and opened his eyes. "The alarm has been going off."

Joel stretched, appearing as if he could still sleep for days. His eyes were heavy and hair in a pillow-tossed mess as he reached over to check the time with little interest.

"Fuck." He grumbled the word and ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Late?" You asked him, giving a big yawn as you did.

"Yeah." Joel cleared his throat. "I have to fuckin'..." He slowly sat up and ran his hands through his hair again.

"What can I help you with?" You asked him, "Coffee?"

Joel nodded. "If you don't mind. I have to shower. You mind grabbing me some clothes out of the closet? Jeans are on a hanger in there, might need to be ironed."

She nodded, happy to play house-wife even if just for a moment. "Where's the iron?"

"Hall closet." He shifted out of bed. "And any of the white tshirts you see would be fine.”

"Sure." You nodded again and stared up as he turned back to you.

"Thanks." Joel winked and headed out of the room into the hallway.

You glanced around the room, eying the floor for your scattered clothing and got out of bed to get dressed. You heard the shower go on, but felt that Joel was in no mood to be playful or he would have invited you in there with him. You decided to do as he asked and made your way to the closet.

When you peeled open the closet doors you saw a collection of polo shirts and button downs. On the very top we're folded tshirts of all colors and a few pairs of pants were draped, half folded, over hangers.

You reached for a pair of jeans and glanced over to the left as you removed them. In the back corner was a wedding dress, covered with clear plastic. Directly in front of it were two petite cocktail dresses and a pair of wedged heels that you guessed would be too small even for you.

Despite that being a part of Joel’s past, the proof that he had a wife was now staring you in the face. Not a friend, not a girlfriend, a wife - who he was still legally bound to.

They aren't together anymore, you reminded yourself, all the while noting it wasn't that long ago that they were. They shared the house, they shared the bed you had just slept in. They ate dinners together at the kitchen table. She probably ironed his clothes on the mornings where he was running late - the way you were about to.

Your eyes closed for a moment and you tried not to be negative. Joel had a past, the same way you did. Would he be jealous if he saw photos of you and the guy you had dated during your first two years of college? Probably not. A part of you knew it wasn't quite the same.

You took a deep breath and reopened your eyes. Without another look, you retrieved a white shirt from the top and pulled the jeans with you as you made your way to the hall closet to locate the iron. Before even attempting to search for it your eyes landed on a stack of old Christmas cards in a small basket on an eye-level shelf, the top one appearing to be one of those self made Walgreens cards Joel and his wife had sent out to friends and family the year before.

Is this supposed to be some sign that I shouldn't be doing this? you wondered upon suddenly being hit in the face with more proof that Joel's estranged wife was, indeed, a real person.

You reached for the card, holding the image of the two of them out in front of you. The woman beside him was sporting a wide smile, leaning an elbow on Joel's beefy shoulder, who smiled just a wide. She donned a traditional Christmas hat that made way to pin-straight dark hair and a set of beautiful big, brown eyes to match with a long, red sweater-dress. Joel looked as handsome as ever and wore a red and green plaid shirt over khakis. His arm was linked securely around her waist and at the bottom read, 'Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays From The Millers’ in a neat, swirly cursive.

She's gorgeous, you thought to yourself and then let your thoughts run deeper. The Millers. What happened between them to cause the divorce?

When the water went off, you almost jumped and replaced the card back on top of the stack before hurrying to locate the iron.

"Find it?" Joel asked, as if he could see you shuffling like a mad-woman through the wall.

You cleared your throat and managed to sound confident; normal. "Yeah."

"Just use the kitchen counter," he went on, "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind." You reached for the iron that had been perched on a higher shelf and then closed the door.

Joel exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist just as you closed the door. "Thanks honey." He slipped an arm around your midsection and planted a kiss on your lips.

You kissed him firmly back, enamored despite the gnawing feeling that now lingered in your stomach. The feel of his beard, his slicked hair, his nearly-naked form that had just the right amount of muscle tone and chest hair and his scent as he came out fresh from the shower - it was all too much. Even the tone of his voice had the ability to send chills down your back.

"You're welcome."

Joel kept you close, studying your expression and moment and then kissed you again. "Sorry I'm in such a rush."

You gave a half-smile. "Let me get to these while you dry off." You held up the pants and smiled another time before heading down the hallway. To your surprise, Joel followed and watched as you set everything up, standing with a hand against the refrigerator.

"I would love to, uh, let you just stay here," he confessed, "But..."

"But my parents and all that.. yeah I know.” You phrased it aloud, "I’m the neighbor’s daughter." You glanced down and ran your palm firmly on top of the left leg of the pair of jeans, feeling a sting in the way you had labeled yourself. The neighbor’s daughter.

Joel didn't say anything back initially. He did what he did best - he studied your body language, waiting to see if you would reveal something even louder than your words as you began to iron his pants.

"I hope..." Joel drew a hand across his beard, searching for the right words, "I mean… you're the first person I've been with outside of my wife in a very long time. I, uh… I'm just not used to this. I hope I'm not overwhelming you-”

"You're not," you assured him right away. You shook your head, "You're not... at all. I just... I get it. I know what this is Joel." Doubt continued to linger inside of you since discovering the wedding dress and the old Christmas card - as if they hadn't been there all along. A part you felt foolish for your sudden doubts, the other part of you felt like you had to guard your heart.

“Well, what do you think this is?” Joel asked, point blank. He stared directly at you now and you glanced up to meet his stare. Without much of a warning, tears threatened to stream down your face, though you continued to find the strength to keep them locked away without falling.

“I don't know,” you confessed. You knew what you wanted it to be, but you didn't know what it was.

Joel took a step in your direction and you almost stepped back to keep your emotions in check, but you didn't. He sensed something was suddenly off. “Did I do something?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“You don't look.. okay.”

You managed a deep breath through your nose. “I just… I don't mind this.” You motioned to the jeans you laid out to be ironed, “All of this. I enjoy it very much actually.”

Joel nodded, seeming to be a bit confused. “Okay. So, what's going on then?”

“I just don't know what you want. You're newly separated from your wife. I'm starting to…” You couldn't put your words together. It was too much to just spout out right there in the kitchen.

“I'm starting to, too.” Joel continued his stroll across the kitchen and pulled you into a hug. He kissed the top of your head and you finally felt a single tear sneak out. You held him firmly against you for a moment before you both pulled back and you dried your eyes.

“We should talk,” he said with a nod, looking you directly in the eye. “Let me take you to dinner. Tonight.”

Finally some relief. You felt part of the weight shift from your shoulders. “Okay.” You smiled at him and let out a little laugh, wiping away one more tear that made its way down your cheek.

“I'm sorry we did this backward,” Joel said. “I probably should have offered you dinner that night in the bar instead of pulling you into the women's bathroom.”

You laughed lightly. “No, that's a memory I prefer to keep.”

Joel smiled back and leaned down and touched his lips to yours. “You're not just the neighbor’s daughter.” He tipped your chin up to make sure he had your full attention.

“What am I then?”

Joel's eyes moved back and forth as they studied your expression. He then tipped up the corner of his mouth in a little smirk. “You're my girl.”

CLICK HERE FOR PART 7

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl

[jinxthequeergirl]

omg yay!! so glad i can request you some billy cuz i love him sooo much… yeah, and also: if you don't want to write this it’s okay, but then please reply to this post somehow because damn otherwise i end up waiting like a hachiko😔

how about bill and reader had a deal but eventually their interactions developed into some kind of relationship (?). i don't know, in short bill became very attached to the reader but something happened and they had a fight which cancelled the deal.

time passed and bill still couldn't forget reader. and now, already being in a mental hospital, bill is sitting in general therapy in a circle with everyone else, with an empty look at the floor "i don't want to be here, they made me" in his eyes, and then suddenly one of the therapists says: "so, i want to introduce you to a new patient: y/n!"

bill, hearing this name, is shocked because how did this even happen, and the reader just smiled

ps english is not my first language i'm writing this by translation sorry for mistakes, i love you💘

The Multi-Dimensional break up

Bill chiper x Interdemensinal being!reader

Here, take this while i work on Part 8!

Picture bill however you want to in this I left him vague for a reason (I personally go for the unconventional twink cipher)

Warning: none, it's short

~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

Sure, Ford was interesting enough, but YOU were far more interesting. He remembered helping Ford with the portal, watching him fo test runs only to pull you out.

Ford was instantly fascinated with you, running tests interagating you, you happily answered, glad to talk to someone new, and you gladly accepted when offered to help with the portal reaserch.

That's when he'd introduce you to Bill, his other interdimensinal friend helping him. You two bonded quickly, and you shared how similar your dimensions were as well as how vastly different they were.

What he liked most of all about you was how he could talk to you about things others usually didn't get, not his parents in his home dimension, not ford...no one.

"You were only a child... That must've been hard." You admit to him after he opened up to you on a whim about his past, about seeing past his dimensions, about what he did...who he lost.

"It...it's was! But look at me now! Look at all the power I have because of it!" You gave him a sideways look.

"But are you happy?..." He stared at you.

No one's ever asked him that before.

"I understand what you did...I was given a similar chance to yours...but before I made my choice I stopped to think about everyone I held dear to me, I thought about everyone else and who they held dear to themselves...and most of all I thought about myself...would this really make me happy in the long run? If I lost everything, would I care if it was replaced with what I'm being offered?"

Bill stared at you once again. A strange sinking feeling he'd only ever felt once before in his life. "What did you do?"

"Well...to put it simply my home dimension is thriving! They all lived and still lived happily...in the end, I knew if I was willing to do something like that, I could risk it all just like that, then I was the one who needed to leave."

You weren't exactly the type of being he surrounded himself with. You were....well adjusted, to say the least. He kept you around.

He grew attached to you, basically at the hip. He liked that for some reason in a sea of crazy, horrific, and terrifying things you were very calm and collected. Though you did end up sharing his affinity for all those things, giving him a good evil idea in the most calm manner he'd ever seen.

But like before in his home dimension, he began to crave more. Working with you and Ford to get the portal up and running only made him desire it tenfold. He had a vision and with you in it.

So, who better to ask for help bleed into Fords reality and take over then you. Though he didn't tell you the whole plan or truth as to what the plan held in store for everyone.

"Would it make you happy?" He felt his eye twitch. Not a question he thought you'd ask.

"If it does?" You finally looked up at him from what you were fiddling with. "If you came to me right now asking me to do this and you were a million percent positive, it would make you happy... I would say ok."

"Really? Why?"

"You should have some happiness to if I could help achieve that I would love nothing more."

"Then it's a deal."

You shook his hand.

He beamed at you, worried a moment that you would give him a long speech about doing the right thing. True that you enjoyed the bits of chaos he would sprinkle about and even partake in them. But you also had a bit of a moral Compass. It never seemed to stop you from having fun with him, and to him it didn't seem like it stopped him from his fun when you thought other wise.

But it did. You not partaking with him felt wrong. You'd become his right hand in everything. Usually, if you rode a high horse, suddenly he was too.

However, you were hell-bent on helping him with this, that was until you realized what he was doing and trying to do to Ford.

You stopped helping him immediately.

"You lied to me! You didn't tell me this was your plan! Another dimension you can treat, like your home dimension?" Bill was taken aback for a moment. And hurt that you would compare what he was doing now to what he did in the past.

"Are you seriously going to do this? To Ford!?"

"Hey! We had a deal remember!"

"You purposely left information out you tricked me!"

Bill realized he'd never seen you angry in the years he'd gotten to know you. Seeing you now almost made him hesitate, almost.

"The deal is off! And I'm going to tell Ford about your plan."

"Not so fast!" You froze in place your whole body feeling over and turning to gold. "Bill wait! Wait! Don't do this! We can talk this out!"

"I don't think so...you and no one else in any dimension is going to stop me!"

"Bill Cipher, I swear I will -"

He winced, waiting for the rest of your sentence that never came, your face permanently frozen in distorted anger. This is what he wanted, right? He wanted out of the nightmare dimension. He wanted complete and utter chaos in the real world. He was sure of it only a moment ago.

Then why did he feel so bad.

He stared at your face solid gold and gleaming now.

"Are you happy?"

He shook your voice from his head.

"You'll see y/n! I'm going to Rule this dimension and you'll regret not joining me!" He said trying to gain back his confidence.

He could.

Not when you where looking at him like that.

So he possessed Fords body, tossed you threw the still finicky portal and forgot about you.

Tried to forget about you.

Every day, something new would come up, and he would still be ready to tell you, still wake up, ready to spend his time with you.

Who knew how lonely he really was until Ford dragged you out of that portal all those years ago.

He thought about you now most of all, staring up at the ceiling in his interdemensinal cell.

He wondered if he would have beaten the Pines family if you were by his side. He wandered if he would have even gone through with weirdmagedon if you were by his side.

He truly just missed you. He regretted throwing you away like you weren't everything to him. He hoped you would eventually forgive him if you ever crossed paths or if you were even unfrozen.

He avoided bringing you up now that he was in mandatory therapy. Anytime he felt he might mention you, he paused and steered the conversation away as best he could.

"Welcome, everyone. Let's settle down."

Bill sighed, slumping into his chair. Bracing himself for yet another group therapy session.

"Before we get started, I'd like to welcome a new member to the group." He rolled his eye while the other members erupted in chatter.

"Settle down, everyone, please welcome y/n."

Bill felt his heart stop, and the air leave his lungs.

Low and behold you scanned the room looking for an open seat, you sat across from him locking eyes with him for a moment.

"I like your scar" You mouthed.

He stared at you jaw on the floor.

"How?" He asked all you did was smile before the mediators spoke up again.

"Alright, everyone, let's begin."

[lovelyverosika]

I keep thinking about his angel eyes

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 3 —> Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: talk about self hate

A/N: Here is the part 3 everyone wished for. I decided to make a total of 4 parts, so you sadly still need to wait a bit for the end :,) Like always I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes.

Y/N POV:

I found myself in a room similar to a movie theater. I’m not able to move a single muscle in my body. Suddenly a movie started playing, memories of my life in heaven or more specially about Adam and me. I smiled and felt all warm and fuzzy inside as the memories of our growing relationship were displayed right in front of me.

The first time we met, how we fought at work, how we began to spend more time with each other, our first dates and how he took his mask down for the first time. This may sound exaggerated but that was the proof of how much he trusts me and oh lord was he gorgeous. His golden eyes had me captured the moment I looked into them…his beautiful angel eyes. Nothing was more beautiful than seeing his true emotions reflect in them. Everyone knew him as "The first man" or the self quoted "Dick master" but I know it better. Deep down he’s a insecure soul who’s desperate for admiration and affection, especially after loosing his two previous wives to the same man.

Of course he was a total asshole when I first met him but he changed for the better and that out of his own will, that is something not everyone is willing to do. In a flash of seconds more memories were shown: Our first kiss, anniversary and lastly our wedding. It was a very magnificent day, I never ever thought I will find a lover let alone get married to someone. Everything was just perfect until the court accident today.

Suddenly everything went black. I don’t know where I am or what to feel, this is stranger than any dream or nightmare I ever had. I slowly stood up as a sudden blow of cold air hit me. I wrap my arms around myself as I start walking around in this strange void. All I can hear is my own heartbeat,breathing and the sound of my heels clicking on the ground. After what felt like an eternity I found a single white door in the middle of this nowhere.

Not knowing what else I should do I open the door and enter another black space with a single mirror standing in the middle. This is all so strange and overwhelming I couldn’t prevent myself from tearing up..pathetic that’s what I am. I took a deep breath and walked towards the mirror. I looked like an absolute mess with my eyes puffy from all the crying.

Suddenly the reflection changed in how I used to look like back then in hell. "Helloooo, redeemed or not I’ll always be a part of you.”, my reflection said. I was completely stunned…how is that even possible? "Do you remember what you used to tell your friends back then in hell? You said and I quote: You don’t need to be perfect to be worthy of being loved or deserving a better life. Everyone deserves a second chance and that goes for you too." My old self gave me a big smile and I couldn’t help but smile too.

In a way she is right but accepting yourself is much harder than people say. It takes lots of time, patience and willingness. My reflection gave me a look full of pity before she started to speak. "You probably think he will leave you, hm? Of course that can be an option but would he really? It’s like Rosie said it’s difficult to admit things you’re not proud of but you’re still you. The fact you used to be a demon doesn’t change the person you really are, the person he grew to love and cherish. It seems like we’re running out of time..it was nice seeing the person I became. You’re much stronger than you think.", she chuckled and waved at me. "Farewell Y/N..it’s time to wake up now. Emily must be going insane from how much she worries about you."

My reflection disappeared and left me with a warm feeling inside my heart. With a smile on my face I walked through the mirror and woke up in a bed, which must belong to Emily. In less than a few seconds Emily wrapped her arms around me, hugging me tightly. "You’re awake, I was so scared you wouldn’t wake up.", she said while sniffing onto my chest. I couldn’t help but smile, she’s such a sweetheart. "Shh, I’m here now.", I said while patting her back.

Part 4

[shitsndgiggs]

kenan and oc are on a beach front holiday together but oc can't stop getting jealous at everyone looking at her attractive and toned boyfriend. she tells kenan to put his shirt on but kenan teases her because he loves to see how riled up she gets because of him so in return she makes him jealous back. cute moments between them!

JEALOUSY JEALOUSY - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan teasing you for being jealous

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the beach. The day had been perfect—just Kenan and me, enjoying each other's company with nothing to do but relax.

We were lounging on sunbeds, soaking up the last rays of the day when I started to notice something. Every time someone walked by, their eyes seemed to linger a little too long on Kenan.

He was stretched out beside me, shirtless, his toned abs and muscular arms on full display. With his tousled hair and easy smile, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.

My jealousy began as a small, nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, but the longer it went on, the more it grew.

I tried to push it down, telling myself that it was silly to feel this way, but it was hard to ignore when every passing person seemed to be drooling over my boyfriend.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

"Kenan," I said, my voice tinged with irritation, "could you maybe put your shirt back on?"

He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow. "Why? It’s hot out here," he said, clearly confused by my request.

I fidgeted with the edge of my towel, trying to keep my tone casual. "I just think it would be nice if you did."

A slow grin spread across his face as realization dawned. "Wait a minute… are you jealous?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"No," I lied quickly, crossing my arms over my chest. "I just don’t like the way people keep staring at you."

Kenan chuckled, sitting up and turning to face me. "You’re jealous," he repeated, sounding far too pleased with himself. "That’s adorable."

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it off, but I knew my blush was giving me away. "It’s not adorable. It’s annoying," I muttered, avoiding his gaze.

He leaned closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know I’m yours, right? No one else matters," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down my spine.

I tried to stay mad, but it was hard when he looked at me like that. Still, I wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. "Fine," I said, pushing myself up from the sunbed. "But two can play at this game."

Kenan watched me with a curious expression as I stood up and stretched, making sure to give him a good view of my bikini-clad body.

I could feel his eyes on me as I adjusted my swimsuit, and when I glanced back at him, I saw the playful smirk had faded into something more serious.

I started walking towards the water, swaying my hips just a little more than usual, knowing full well that he was watching every step I took.

I was almost at the shore when I felt someone approach me from the side.

"Excuse me," a deep voice said, and I turned to see a tall, muscular guy standing next to me. He had a charming smile and an easy confidence that immediately set me on edge. "I just wanted to say, you look stunning in that bikini."

I blinked, surprised by the sudden compliment. "Oh, um, thank you," I replied, trying to hide my discomfort.

But then I remembered what I was trying to do. I gave him a small smile. "You’re not looking too bad yourself," I added, knowing full well that Kenan was watching.

The guy’s grin widened, clearly pleased with my response. "What’s a beautiful girl like you doing here alone?"

Before I could respond, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist, pulling me back against a firm chest. "She’s not alone," Kenan’s voice came from behind me, low and possessive. I could feel the tension radiating off him as he stared down the guy.

The guy’s eyes flicked between Kenan and me, his confident demeanor faltering slightly. "Oh, sorry man, I didn’t know…"

Kenan didn’t bother responding. He was too focused on me, his grip on my waist tightening slightly as he guided me away from the guy and back towards our spot on the beach.

Once we were far enough away, he stopped and turned me to face him. His eyes were dark with a mix of jealousy and frustration, and I could tell that my little stunt had gotten under his skin.

"That wasn’t funny," he said, his voice low and serious.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a smile. "I wasn’t trying to be funny," I replied, looking up at him through my lashes. "I just didn’t want you to forget who you’re with."

Kenan’s expression softened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn’t waver. "Trust me, I could never forget that," he said, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. "But that doesn’t mean I liked seeing some random guy hitting on you."

I reached up to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. "Now you know how I feel," I whispered, leaning in close.

He let out a low chuckle, his breath warm against my skin. "You don’t have to worry about anyone else," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine. "You’re the only one I want."

Before I could respond, he captured my lips in a searing kiss, one that left no room for doubt. I melted into him, all thoughts of jealousy and teasing fading away as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me impossibly close.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavily, the tension between us replaced by something much sweeter.

"You’re such a tease," I whispered, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Kenan grinned, his hands sliding down to give my waist a gentle squeeze. "Only because I know you can handle it," he teased back, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips. "You’re lucky I love you," I said, shaking my head at him.

He leaned down to press another kiss to my lips, this one soft and sweet. "I know," he whispered against my mouth. "And I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of it."

[sturnsdc]

You look beautiful

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

warnings: TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, awkward and embarrassing Carl and Yn, beginning of what could be smut.

words: 2,6k

A/N: thanks @livingdeadgirlflorette and anon for giving two wonderful ideas. I'm really sorry that the story came out so short and shitty, but i still hope that some part of it is good enough !! <3 

both are +16

dividers from @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist              carl masterlist

CARL'S POV

"you're going out… to get medical supplies… with her? just the two of you?" Michonne asked me once more, and i had to hold back the urge to roll my eyes. Still, i know she senses my annoyance because she laughed and spoke again, "in my day, we called that something else, but okay." I chuckled a bit at her comment and lightly hit her arm to make her stop teasing.

she’s always like this ever since she found out about my feelings for Yn. She seizes every moment to make a comment or give me a look. And it got worse once my dad found out. It only took a few hours for the rest of the group to know. Everyone except her…

but can anyone really blame me? when we arrived in Alexandria, there was a group of teenagers like me—two boys and two girls. She didn’t seem to fit in with them and only talked to her friend Enid. However, when Ron introduced us, she gave me the biggest smile and started talking to me.

she’s so sweet and beautiful, but at first, i couldn’t understand what was happening to me. She started appearing in my dreams, in different scenarios that made me wake up with my heart racing, followed by a strange feeling of emptiness when i realized it had only been a dream. Then she was present everywhere, even without physically being there. In every conversation, in every thought, everything started reminding me of her.

i started noticing her more, and our conversations were no longer enough. So, i began stealing glances at her now and then—when she studied, when she helped with chores, and when she began sneaking out, just like i’d seen Enid do on several occasions. That's when curiosity got the better of me, and i started sneaking out after her, discovering her little secret.

she would climb up to what looked like a treehouse, a bit far from Alexandria, and i thought she hadn’t noticed me. But just as i was about to take another step, her voice surprised me.

“should i be worried that you’re following me, Carl?” she asked, though i didn’t hear any anger in her voice. She sat on a branch at the entrance to the small treehouse, looking down at me.

i remember stuttering as i tried to come up with an excuse, but she just laughed and invited me to come up. She showed me her safe space, and with that, she let me see a side of her that no one else knew. From that moment on, we became closer, and my feelings just grew and grew until they were undeniable.

when Ron shot me that day, i thought it was all over, that she would stay away or wouldn’t even be able to look at me anymore. I wouldn't have blamed her if she did; it took me weeks before i could even look at myself in the mirror again. Why would i expect her to see me as the same Carl as before?

but she did. She held my face in her hands and wiped away my tears again and again.

so, can anyone really blame me?

“earth to Carl, earth to Carl. Please return from Ynland,” Michonne's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She's looking at me with an eyebrow raised, and all i could do was look away, embarrassed.

“sorry, i got distracted. What were you saying?”

“that you should already be heading to your ‘supply run’ with your dear friend,” she said, emphasizing ‘dear friend.’

‘oh, fuck.’ i opened my eyes wide.

“goodbye,” i said hurriedly, running to my house to grab the bag i had left by the door. Once i had it, i rushed back to the entrance of Alexandria, where she was waiting by the car we were going to take. “Sorry, sorry.”

"'s okay, i just got here anyway," she said, then smiled in that beautiful way she always does, almost making me sigh. "Let's go?"

“yeah, sure,” i replied, trying to snap out of my daze, quickly tossing my bag into the back seat and getting into the passenger seat. She followed my lead, settling into the driver’s.

it’s not the first time we’ve been in a car together, but it is the first time i’m not driving. Still, i’d trust her with my life.

YN'S POV

i try not to look at him too much, but it's almost impossible. It's like there’s a magnet pulling my eyes toward him every second. I just need to control myself enough not to crash the car.

it’s the first time we’ve gone on a run alone together, and i can only remember Maggie and Glenn’s words:

"don't devour him with your eyes, at least not right away," Maggie told me, almost like advice, while Glenn laughed beside her and i started to blush.

"yeah, wait until you’re in a quieter place," he added.

‘i can barely look at him without blushing and feeling butterflies, and they expect me to make a move? hell nah.’

"you know, plaid shirts look good on you," Carl suddenly said, and i had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes. We had only been driving in silence for a few minutes, but not only did he startle me, when i understood what he said, i started blushing like never before. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling my legs tremble. ‘how can you say that so easily?’

"thanks… i guess i’m copying your style now," i tried to joke to hide my nervousness. I don't know if i succeeded, but he let out a small laugh, nodding.

"it’s true, you’re copying me," he teased.

"it’s because you’re too cool," i said, and from the corner of my eye, i noticed his surprised reaction. His whole body seemed to tense up. But before he could respond, i had to stop the car—we had reached our destination. It had taken us a long time to get there because it was a pretty remote place Daryl had found some time ago, and it hadn’t been looted. He hadn’t been able to bring everything back because his backpack was already nearly full. "let’s go." he nodded, and we both grabbed our things and our weapons.

"yes, ma'am," i heard him whisper, and suddenly my legs felt like jelly. I had to make sure my heart wasn’t going to jump out of my chest from how hard it was beating. I didn't respond and couldn’t even look at him, so i started walking toward the pharmacy entrance, holding my gun and flashlight, walking cautiously but firmly.

i carefully opened the door, trying not to make too much noise. we both entered, making sure the place was clear—and it was. We quickly split up, each filling our bags with whatever useful items we could find.

"i think i’m ready. What about you?" i asked, approaching his side of the store.

"almost ready, just need these last bottles," he said, putting them in a pocket before slinging his bag over his shoulder. "let’s go."

when we stepped outside, we noticed the sky was already getting dark, so we hurried to the car, putting our bags in the back seats like when we arrived and then getting in the same seats. That’s when i inserted the key and tried to start the car...

but it wouldn’t start.

the damn car wouldn’t start.

we ran out of gas, but how are we supposed to fix that now? we'd have to walk through the small town, but with it being dark, it would be pointless.

"what do we do?" i asked, and my tone clearly showed how scared i was, making Carl look at me.

"we need to find somewhere to stay. we can’t make it back in the dark," he said, and i swallowed hard, nodding nervously.

"okay, but where do we go? we don’t know this place," i shifted uneasily in my seat.

"we’ll have to walk around a bit and find an open house or something."

and that’s what we did. We got out of the car with our stuff, turned on our flashlights, and walked side by side through the small town where we were now trapped, surrounded by silence and growing darkness.

when my panic started to rise from not finding a place to stay, Carl touched my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and showing me a house nearby. It looked old, but the door was open. We quickly walked over, quietly entering and checking the first floor for anyone. After confirming it was empty, we went upstairs, finding a hallway with three doors. The first led to a bedroom with one bed, an open and empty closet, and windows covered with newspapers and blankets. The second door led to a bathroom. The last door was blocked, with a note on it saying the room was unusable.

Carl and i exchanged glances, silently debating what to do next.

"i can sleep on the floor if it makes you uncomfortable..." he started to say, so i had to push my nervousness aside for a moment and shake my head.

"no, there’s no way i’m letting you sleep there, Carl," i refused, walking into the bedroom as he followed. I dropped my bag by the door, and he placed his next to the bed. "We're grown, i think we can share a bed," i said with sudden boldness.

"are you sure?" he asked, and i nodded.

"i’m going to change, be right back," i told him, heading to the bathroom to get changed. I took off my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, staying in my underwear and buttoning up the long plaid shirt to cover what was necessary.

‘i just need to get through this night, just this one,’ i told myself, trying to calm the flush spreading across my cheeks at the mere thought of spending the night with him.

CARL'S POV

i took advantage of the time she spent changing to leave the flashlight lighting up the room, then went to sit on the bed over the sheets, leaning against the headboard.

‘can i really do this?’ the truth is, i don’t know. And just the thought of spending the night in the same bed as her makes me anxious. ‘What if i do something stupid while i sleep? what if i talk in my sleep and say something i shouldn’t?’ ‘What if i start dreaming about her, and she notices?’

the sound of a door closing pulled me from my thoughts, and then she walked into the room, looking even more beautiful.

my heart started beating so hard i could feel it in my ears, and heat rushed through my body, concentrating in my face and neck and ears. I tried not to stare, but before i could stop myself, my eyes scanned her from head to toe, making it hard to breathe, and i struggled to swallow.

she moved closer to the bed, but on the other side. I didn't realize it until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance.

"hello? ´you okay?" she asked, smiling with a bit of amusement, clearly noticing my reaction.

"yeah, yeah, i… got distracted," i lied, feeling a tingling all over my body.

"aren’t you going to change your clothes?" she asked. I glanced at my clothes for a second, considering it, but quickly dismissed the idea. 

"no, i’ll just take off my shoes," i said, doing exactly that.

then the room fell into a tense silence, and i turned to look at her. She was already watching me, and her gaze made the words catch in my throat. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looks, but i didn’t dare.

all i could do was look at her, wishing i could close the distance and crash my lips against hers.

i wondered what was going through her mind, if she felt the same tension i was feeling or if it was just my imagination. I debated whether i should make a move, but i was scared, and the very thought made my hands start to tremble. She seemed to notice because she took one of my hands and stroked it, looking away at that moment.

"why are you nervous?" she asked, almost whispering as she lifted her head to meet my eyes again. I swallowed hard.

‘should i tell her the truth?’ i could hear my friends' voices telling me to go for it, to tell her already. And even though i’d told them no and practically laughed in their faces for even suggesting it, now the idea didn’t seem so absurd.

"it’s because of you," i finally admitted, watching her eyes widen.

"because of me? wha- what do you mean?" she stuttered.

"you..." i sighed, deciding to be brave. "You look beautiful, and i can’t stop thinking about that and how much i want to do something about it," i confessed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as she started to blush, looking adorable.

"and why don’t you do something?" she said softly, and i had to make sure i heard her right before clearing my throat and doing what i had wanted for so long.

i raised the hand she was holding and brought it to her cheek, pulling her face closer to mine to press our lips together. She kissed me back a few seconds later, and although it was a little awkward, we tried to make the kiss special.

when we pulled back a bit, i looked into her eyes, noticing how they sparkled, and her cheeks were even redder than before. Seeing that made me want to kiss her again, and that's what i did, this time more intensely, making her let out a small gasp.

NORMAL POV

both of them started to feel the heat spreading to every part of their bodies. Yn decided to be bold and sat in Carl's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck while he placed his hands on her waist, trying to keep her as close as possible. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of their lips meeting again and again, in a make out session that grew more intense with each passing moment. 

Yn began to try to close her legs, to rub her thighs, but both the position and Carl stopped her. The boy by spreading her legs a little wider, making her put her full weight on his lap. The contact made Yn whimper and Carl groan from the sensation. Taking advantage of the moment, he slid his tongue into her mouth, turning the kiss into something messier as his hands began to roam over her legs, sliding up to the hem of her shirt, which kept rising due to their movements.

they pulled back a little after a few minutes, panting from the sudden intensity, and looking into each other's eyes with the love they had kept quiet for so long.

"i really like you, Yn," Carl said, without breaking eye contact. She smiled and leaned in to give him a peck.

"and i really like you too," she replied, making Carl kiss her again, picking up where they left off just moments ago.

the rest of the night, they spent enjoying each other’s company, expressing their love in different ways until morning came. 

then… though they had barely slept, they set out to figure out how to get the car started. This time, they walked hand in hand, unafraid.

but of course, nothing could save them from their friends' teasing, who understood everything with just one look at them.

it was something they would definitely never forget.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[satorusugurugurl]

I Think He Knows: (Chapter Nine)

Summary: When your novel takes off and becomes a best seller, doors of opportunities open for you. You can work on the series you have dreamed about all your life. And you’re also given the chance to stay in a tiny cottage in Europe for two years to help with inspiration! Your best friend, Geto Suguru, shatters at the news. How could he tell you how he feels when you leave him? His opportunity appears right before him when you confess that your editor thinks a change of scenery will help with your not-so-steamy romance scenes. They’re lacking a particular spice because you’re a virgin. So, Suguru does what any best friend would do. He offers to teach you how things work. Will you cross that line as friends? Or will you both say goodbye?

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,860

Warning: confessions, loss of virginity, smut, lovemaking, fingering, unprotected sex

A/N: so were actually going to have two more parts! Part ten and an Epilougue! 🥹 sorry for the late post this was a long chapter and someone decided to fall asleep in the pool after chugging down margaritas and yeah—it was all me 😬

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Ten Part Eleven

Love?

That simple four-letter word weighed like a ton in your heart and the pit of your stomach. Did Suguru tell you he loved you? Your breath quickened as he stroked your hair gently; his dark eyes bore into yours.

“You—you love me?”

“Yes, god, I love you.”

Every time he said that your stomach fluttered with butterflies of excitement. But his eyes shut tight as he pulled his forehead away from yours, allowing him to look at your entire face. His was still shirtless, pants pulled down to his thighs, and you were naked, but something about being so exposed made this moment that much more intense.

“How long have you loved me?”

Suguru sat up straight, allowing him to give you his full undivided attention. “I knew I liked you the first day we met. But that grew into a crush that turned into a bigger crush in high school; before I knew it, I was utterly in love with you.” He shut his eyes as he smiled warmly. “Which was as easy as breathing.” You rested your hands on his shoulders, flushing at the sweet words.

“But why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

You pursed your lips together. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t been scared of your deepening feelings and what that would do to your friendship. “I mean, when you said you couldn’t do, uhm—“ you motioned to the position you were still in, “this, it almost ruined me.” Because you were afraid, your boldness had ruined that nearly two-decade-long friendship.

“But I know now, I have to be honest. I can’t keep living with this secret on my chest.” He gently cupped your cheek in his warm hand, his finger caressing the skin. “You deserve to know the truth.” When you didn’t oppose his words, Suguru took a deep breath. “The day Utahime found your cottage hit me like a train. When you said you could be gone for two years, my stomach fell out of my ass. Because the thought of being away from you for that long was unimaginable.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Who else would ensure I was taking care of myself, bringing me food, dragging me away from my canvas? No one cares for me like you.”

“I did promise your mom I’d look out for you.” You try to joke, but his confession has your voice breaking as you are overwhelmed by his sweet words.

“Yeah, and that’s why my folks love you too.” He brushed against your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But that night, we went to dinner to celebrate you finding the cottage; I didn’t know what to do. You were so excited about going, and I wanted to support you. But thinking about you leaving and falling in love with some European guy made my stomach hurt.”

You cocked an eyebrow and giggled. “Some European guy?”

“Yeah, like a French model or something.” You laugh again, and it’s like music to his ears. “But when Nanami told me you were struggling with the intimate scenes in your book and that going on this retreat might help. I decided that if I could help you with those scenes, maybe I’d finally work up the courage to tell you how I felt, but it became something else. Something deeper, something more profound and intimate. I was something living off a stupid idea when I should’ve just been honest with you. We could just be together. And I almost managed to fuck that up.”

“Suguru—”

“I was an idiot. I should’ve been blunt and honest about how I felt instead of hiding behind the idea that I was helping you. If I’m being honest, doing all this intimate stuff with you made me fall even more in love with you. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but I’m beating around the bush. I fucking love you.”

“Suguru—I—”

“You don't have to say it back; I just needed you to know because I can’t just sleep with you. Not when you deserve so much more.”

His confession was raw and honest, making your heart sing. Without thinking, you pulled his hands away from your face; Suguru's eyes widened as if he thought maybe you were angry. But when your lips slammed against his in a heated kiss that had that simmering desire in your lower stomach roaring to life again. His arms wrapped around you, pressing you firmly against his bare chest, turning his head to deepen the kiss. His erection was hardening again, rutting against your lower stomach; before things progressed any further, you broke the kiss, panting heavily.

He had been so honest with you; he deserved to know how you felt. “Suguru—I-I could’ve been honest too— because I felt the same way early into our agreement. I kept telling myself that you were helping me out, being a good friend, when I knew for a fact that there was more to it. When I thought you were leaving for four months, my world seemed to stop.” His hands gently ran up and down your back as you spoke. “I realized I needed to tell you how I felt, but uhm—“ with a nervous chuckle, you flushed, “I got some advice to show you how I felt; that's why I—I jumped you like this.” Suguru scoffed, shaking his head, and exhaled heavily through his nose.

“And I was told to talk to you.” A comfortable silence draws out between you. “God, we're a couple of idiots, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we are.” You let out a sing-song giggle as Suguru chuckles, trailing kisses slowly up your neck. “A couple of idiots in love.”

The sensations of Suguru’s lips slowly moving up your neck stopped at the spot right beneath your earlobe. You could feel how hot his breath was as he slowly inhaled and exhaled against your skin. The burning desire slowly began to spread from your body to all the other parts of you. Your skin was sensitive to his hands running over you, your heart was slamming against your ribs, and you felt yourself getting wetter as Suguru pulled away from your neck to stare into your eyes.

His cock was hard and throbbing inside of his boxers. He didn't remember the last time he was this turned on or if there had ever been a time in his life when he had been so hard. This was different; tension and excitement settled in his stomach. He wanted this, wanted you so fucking bad. Not because he wanted you, wanted to pop your cherry.

He wanted to love you in every way he was able to.

“I—I want you.” The breathless needy whisper nearly had him cumming in his pants. “Sugu, please, I want you to be my first for everything.”

Your first, did you want him to be your first? God, this was happening. It wasn’t a dream this time.

“You’re positive? You want to do this?”

“I’ve never been more sure about it in my life.”

One of Suguru’s hands slowly slid down your back, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. The warm, calloused fingers brushed over your hip before they slid lower until they found your clit. He pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves and slowly circled it just the way you liked it. His fingers rubbing against you sent your body jerking forward with a high-pitched moan.

Your legs were shaking, and your voice seemed to crack as Suguru dipped his finger lower, growling at the wet slick that he brushed against. You were soaking wet. The thought of being buried inside of you when you were this wet had his self-control wavering. Accidentally hurting you was the last thing Suguru ever wanted to do; this was your first time; he wanted it to be perfect, to be as painless as it could be. So instead of shoving his cock deep inside of you, he pushed his middle and ring finger into you.

The way your voice hitches, eyes going wide as he slowly begins pumping his fingers in and out of your tight, wet heat, has your eyes shut tight. Your voice breaks the soft whimpers invading Suguru’s ears as he curls his fingers up, rubbing your g-spot with experienced strokes. A tremor starts through your legs, making its way up to your hips and stomach. You melt like butter with each come-hither stroke and kiss against your neck.

Suguru grunts softly as you begin rolling your hips against his hand, spreading your wet arousal over the palm of his hand as he moves faster and harder, the sound of your moans and whimpers feeding into his speed, making him more eager, please you get you off, he wanted this to be the best first time anyone could ask for. His teeth sunk into your neck, drawing out a sharp gasp from you as his fingers rubbed that spongy spot inside of you. Wet squelches filled the bedroom, and the sounds of him finger fucking you only made you wetter.

“S-Suguru—”

He hummed, lapping his tongue over the bite mark he had left in his wake. “You’re so wet~ does this feel good, princess~?”

“Ye-Yeah fuck, it feels really good—i-I think I'm gonna—”

“Ooh gonna cum for me already~?”

“Mhmm.”

“Was my princess that horny that she’s already going to cum for me? I've barely touched you.” His lips pressed against yours softly as he rubbed your g-spot harder. “You can cum~ I plan on making you cum again~.”

His bold declaration, the expert strokes, and his lips on your neck sucking on it were all you needed to send you over the edge of an orgasm you had never experienced before. It was much more intense before a gush of liquid coated Suguru’s hand. Seeing you squirt, feeling your juices coat, His hand had Suguru’s pupils the size of pinpricks, his fingers gently pulling out of you before glancing down at his wet fingers before slowly trailing up to your pleasure-drunk face.

“Didn't take you for a squirter.” He teased, flipping you both so you were pressed back against the bed.

“G-Gotta k-keep you—haaah—” your eyes rolled back as you spread your legs as wide as you could for Suguru. “on your t-toes.”

Your best friend hummed at your breathless words as he reached down, pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His heartbeat echoed inside of his ears as you kept your eyes wide open for him, exposing your beauty to him. After years of imagining being with you, holding you close, making love to you, all those dreams were about to come true for him.

You watched as Suguru reached into his pants, grabbing his wallet. Your eyes focused on the foil package. He pulled it out, opening it with his teeth. That in itself could have made you cum for a second time without him even touching you. His hands moved with experience sliding the condom over his cock, before staring down at you for a second before blinking.

He leaned back, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. "You're not allergic to latex, are you?"

“No, I’m not.”

“Princess.” Suguru slowly learned to get closer to you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You want to do this?” He pressed his forehead on yours, darting between your eyes to your lips. “You know I’d wait for you as long as needed.”

There he went again, being as caring and considerate as possible. “You asking that makes me not doubt a single thing.” Suguru flushed as you placed your hand on his, gently stroking his knuckles. “I want you to be my first; I wholeheartedly do. Because I love you.” Suguru smiled back, nodding. He pulled his hand away from your face, intertwining your fingers.

“I love you too, Princess.” He slots himself between your legs, taking a deep breath. “Let me know if it hurts, okay? I don't want to hurt you."

"I will." She whispered, kissing him softly. "Suguru, I love you so much."

The man you had been friends with for years, whom you’d fallen hopelessly in love with, smiled softly, leaning in and kissing you deeply. "I love you so much.” He held his cock by the base, the thick shaft heavy in his hands. “Ready Princess?" You nodded, wrapping your arms around him, allowing him to lose himself in your intoxicating scent.

"Ready."

“Okay, honey, tell me if it hurts.” Suguru pushed into your tight entrance gently, his width stretching you out more than you imagined it could. "F-Fuck—”

Thanks to Suguru prepping you and ensuring you were as wet as possible, it didn’t hurt like you had feared it would. Instead, you moaned and whimpered, yet whimpered at the same time. "F-Fuck, O-Oh god." You said, gazing into his eyes as he watched you closely, searching for any signs of discomfort or pain that washed over your features.

When your eyebrows knitted together, Suguru slowly paused. "D-Do you need me to stop for a second, Princess?"

"Y-Yeah." You confessed as you gently gripped onto his arms. "Y-You're just really big."

“Oh, yeah—” An almost sudden swarm of confidence swelled in his chest as Suguru nodded, stilling above you as he panted. "N-Need me to pull out?"

"N-No." You took a calming breath. "I just needed a second to adjust—you can keep going, Sugu. It's not so much that it hurts—I feel full."

Suguru nodded again, pressing gently kisses against your cheeks as he slowly began pushing further inside you again. "Mm, I see; as long as you're not in pain, that’s all that matters to me~” A whine resonates in your chest, causing your walls to squeeze Suguru gently. Making your tight, wet heat even tighter. “Fuck you're so tight, Princess—”

“A-And your cock, is thick,” You gasped, your eyes rolling back as you released your arms around his neck, one hand grabbing his own while the other grabbed at the bedding. "But it feels so good, I-I want m-more please.”

Suguru took a second to admire you as a whole truly. How you gently squeezed his fingers, how your other arm wrapped around your head, fingers gripping the pillow behind your head. The way your face was contorting with the pleasure of slowly getting fucked as a growl rose in the back of his throat while he looked down at you. Never in his life had Suguru ever seen someone as beautiful as you.

God, he loved you. He loved you so much that it hurt. He never wanted to do something like this with anyone else. Not when you looked like a literal goddess underneath him. You were taking him so well; it had his cock twitching as he thought of how pretty you’d be in all sorts of different positions.

"Fucking Christ, you look so pretty and perfect—" He started to slide into you again, his mouth open as he tried to breathe regularly. “Like you were fucking made for me, baby, god. I love you, fuck.��

"Y-You're so handsome." You cried softly as he slid further into your tight walls. His eyes narrowed in pure concentration as you shuddered and squirmed. The way his dark, pierced brow twitched as dark strands of his hair fell from his bun to hang in his face would make anyone’s heart palpitate. Geto Suguru wasn’t with just anyone; he was with the girl he loved: you. "I love you~ I—I need all of you Sugu~"

Hearing you say how handsome he was and how you needed all of him, your best friend bit his bottom lip as he shuddered. His head rested on your shoulder as he breathed heavily against your flushed skin. "F-Fuck, if you keep talking like that, I might not even get the chance to do that, Princess." He pressed into you until your hips met, making him moan softly as he was fully buried inside of you. You were his whole world, the only woman he had ever truly loved.

"R-Right, sorry you just—nngh!” He slowly rolled his hips into you, causing you to dig your nails into his back. “O-Oh, god." You said, looking down at your conjoined bodies. "Fuck that feels good." Your walls twitched eagerly around him. "Fuck~"

“Oh, Princess,” Suguru chuckled before he panted against your skin. “You haven’t felt anything yet.” Hot, open, mouthed kisses trailed along your shoulder and up your neck. “Is it okay if I move?” Suguru’s heavy breathing and gentle tone of voice relaxed every tight muscle in your body.

You panted heavily along with him. "Y-Yes, god, yes, please.” You said, kissing his shoulder gently as he pulled back to look at you.

Suguru caught your lips with him in a desperate kiss. As his tongue slowly slid into your mouth, he started to pull out of you before rolling his hips and thrusting back in. You let out a wanton whine into each hungry kiss, your legs shaking as you slowly wrapped them around his waist. God, you loved him; you loved him so damn much. His personality, his looks, his heart. But the way he was gently fucking into you, making love with you, made you fall even harder if that was even possible.

Suguru started to sweat, his face a dusty rose color from the effort he put in to hold back to avoid hurting you. But each time he slid in, and you tightened around him, or your breath caught, or you’d unknowingly rock back against him, it drove him crazy. His kisses became less gentle, harder, desperate against your lips, "D-Does this feel okay? Do you wanna keep this pace, or—“ his cheeks flushed, “W-Would it be okay—if I went a little harder?"

You stroked his cheek and nodded, licking at your swollen and bitten lips. "Y-Yeah, you can go harder a-and maybe—uhm—“

“Uhm, what? What do you need, Princess?”

“Could you go a little faster?”

Suguru swears he feels his balls clench at your request. He wants to take care of you, to be gentle and caring. He wanted your first time to be as unique as you were to him. But he was losing control. You felt so fucking good wrapped around him, your tight twitches trying to milk him for everything he had. Pulling him in deeper, squeezing the absolute hell out of him. That fragile grip he held on to, holding himself back, snapped like a twig in the breeze. His hips slowly dragged out and slammed back into you, picking up a more speedy rhythm. "F-Fuck—Princess—!!"

The increase in speed, Suguru’s deep primal moans in your ear, and the feeling of his body on you had your head reeled. You squeezed your legs around him tighter and harder, trying to rock against him to meet his pace. But your orgasm was building, causing every nerve in your body to catch on fire as you trashed your head back and forth, crying out in pleasure as his cock hit your g-spot with each rolling thrust. His feet dug into the sheets, pushing them down the mattress as he attempted to bury himself deeper inside of you while he pinned your hand to the bed, giving it a hard squeeze as he fucked into you with all of his strength.

The bed creaked under your combined weight, the headboard slamming against the wall as Suguru fucked into you. Drawing sounds you had never made before. Desperate cries., pleased groans, and sharp whines, god, this felt so good. You had never felt so good before. You found yourself in a hazy hue of pleasure as your orgasm began building inside of you, more intense than anything you had felt before.

“Fuck! Suguru!” You screamed out his name, your free hand abandoning the pillow and his hand digging your nails into his back. “O-Oh, my god!" Your moans got louder and louder with each manic thrust Suguru gave you. "I-I'm so close." You reached down with your right hand, rubbing your swollen hard clit.

“No.” Suguru grabbed your wrist, pulling it away from your clit, gently placing it back on his shoulder. “I got you.” His hand rubbed those circles you were craving over your sensitive bud.

“S-Suguru—haaah nnngh fuck! Fuck me!”

“Fuck you feel so fucking good—Princess, fuck, you're so tight, be a good girl and cum on me, cum on my cock—!!"

Your back arched off the mattress as you came. For the second time in your life, you squirted, only this time, it was all over his cock. This, by far, was the strongest orgasm you had ever had, and it ripped through your entire soul. Your walls clenched and hugged around Suguru, making him throb in return. Watching you was all it took to have him moaning, groaning, and whimpering as he came into the condom.

"Princess!!"

A string of your name left his mouth as he continued pushing inside of you. Fucking the tip of his cock firmly against your cervix as both of you kissed each other urgently. Nails digging into skin, fingers rubbing sensitive spots faster as your bodies rutted against each other.

After what seemed like an eternity of pleasurable waves, you whined as you rode out the last trembling waves of your orgasm. "Nnngh." You relaxed against the mattress as your nails stopped digging into Suguru’s back, opting to rub up and down his toned muscles gently.

Suguru hummed softly, slowly pulling back to stare down at you for a moment. Pushing stray strands of your hair out of your face. "Feeling okay?" He whispered as he slowly pulled out of you, taking care of the condom and tossing it in the trash.

"I feel," you looked, meeting Suguru’s watchful eyes. “Great, it didn’t hurt at all.”

There was a certain sense of pride in your words that had Suguru pulling you into his arms to snuggle you to his chest. He was so fucking happy; he just lay there breathing long, deep breaths as he brushed his fingers through your hair. "Yeah? Good, I'm glad it didn’t hurt. All I want is for you to feel nothing but pleasure. Are you sure you’re okay?" You buried your face into his chest, draping your arm over his chest, before turning to look at the palm of your hand.

“I guess I just thought I would feel different.”

“Different, how?”

"I don't know, to change inside and out." You whispered, glancing up towards his face. "Like I would finally be a woman or something.”

Suguru grinned, pressing his lips against yours with a gentle kiss. “Yeah? Are you disappointed that you don’t feel different?” He watched as you gently propped your chin on his chest, your cheeks flushed as you shyly smiled.

“No, because something even better happened than changing inside and out.”

“Oh yeah, and what is that?”

“I got to fall deeper in love with you.” You felt Suguru’s breath hitch as his eyes widened, focusing on your pretty face. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Suguru kissed you harder, pulling you tighter against his body before he broke the kiss. “Be mine, please.”

You flushed as he gently stroked your cheek with his hand. “Yours?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“My girlfriend, please, Princess; I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone but you, Suguru. Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Your boyfriend could have jumped over the moon. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you, thank you.” More kisses were planted over your cheeks before finally meeting your lips. “Do me a favor and just stay here for a second. I'm going to get you some water and a warm rag.”

Suguru did exactly as he promised, putting on a movie in the background as he gently wiped you clean with a warm rag. He insisted you drink plenty of water, filling up your bottle twice before he crawled back in bed with you. As you lay in bed, Siguru gently massaged your shoulders and thighs, easing the burning ache that was starting to settle in them. He was so gentle with you, making you feel as loved if not more, the hours after you had sex, proving to be the perfect boyfriend.

Your relationship with the new title, boyfriend, and girlfriend didn't change much. Aside from the sex, the quiet ‘I love you’ whispered in passing, and the subtle displays of PDA in public, nothing changed. Instead, your friendship seemed to grow stronger. Full of more laughter and love, something both of you had longed before for so long.

Two weeks passed, and you both had been in Okinawa for a month before you knew it. Your days were spent transcribing, working on rewrites, and talking to Nanami and Utahime over the phone while you sat in the aquarium with Suguru as he worked. It was a month full of changes, healing, and love. Coming to Okinawa with you was the best decision Suguru ever made.

The pain of what happened to Riko was still there and would always linger, but with each passing day, Suguru felt his heart and soul heal a little more. That was all thanks to you. With due time, the throbbing stabbing pain would hurt more like a pinch to the skin. As long as you stood by his side, Suguru knew he would get through it.

He put his whole heart into the mural he painted, going above and beyond what he had initially done on canvas. He put so much detail into Riko, the fish, and his friends, whom he hadn’t seen for a month. But his favorite part of the painting was the subtle change he had made to you both. He had painted you holding hands, a simple fix that made his heart swell each time he saw it. A change that both of you loved.

While Suguru’s painting looked terrific, your writing improved tremendously! Nanami had nothing but good things to say about your intimate scenes and how your characters had grown with you. He was sure the next book you worked on would top the first one, leaving you feeling as good as your boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

God, you couldn’t get over that your best friend for years had become your boyfriend! Every time you would steal him while he would move his paintbrush against the wall, you’d giggle, hiding your face in your hands, your boyfriend painted. Being with him in Okinawa was the best choice you made, even though you had to make a sacrifice for it. If you were allowed to redo this all over again, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing about it.

After a long, hard day of panting and cleaning up details, Suguru stepped down from the ladder and grinned at the scene with Riko. All the base colors were done on this wall; he just had to add the rest to the other half, and then he could start adding details, followed by shading and highlights. As he admired his work, Suguru felt your arms snake around him as you smothered your face into his back.

“It looks great, baby,” your whisper was almost smothered by how deep your face was in his back. “Good work today.”

“Mmm, thanks, Princess. Only three months to go, but if I keep up the pace, I might get done sooner than that.”

“Well, no matter how long it takes, I’ll be beside you.”

You pulled away only to receive a kiss to the temple. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You were yourself.” You answered without hesitation, smiling wide as Suguru ruffled the top of your head.

“You flatter me; I love you—” Before Suguru could kiss you, he stepped forward, knocking over a paint can. “Shit!” Suguru quickly grabbed some towels he kept around wiping it up. “Baby, could you g—?”

“On it!”

You were already running out of the sealed-off area, rushing to the bathroom to grab some damp and dry paper towels. Suguru watched you leave, grinning as he quickly cleaned up as much paint as he could. While he did his best not to smear the teal paint more, your phone on the table you worked at started buzzing.

Suguru groaned, abandoning his messy cleanup and wiping his hands on his shirt before looking to see Utahime’s name on your screen; he knew you had been waiting for her call to let you know if she got your next chapter approved, so he answered the phone. Holding it between his ear and shoulder, he hurried back to his mess.

“Hey Utahime, my girlfriend stepped away, what’s up?”

He chuckled at the sigh that came through the phone receiver. “Could you refer to each other by your first names like normal people? Would that be too much to ask?” Suguru tossed a few dirty towels in the bucket next to him, full of empty paint tubes.

“Yes, that is asking for way too much.”

“Whatever!” Utahime barked before huffing out in annoyance. “Look, can you tell my client that I need her to email me the letter of denial for the cottage? She was supposed to send it yesterday.”

Before the beautiful memories of last night that involved lots of shower sex could cloud Suguru’s mind, he repeated Utahime’s words to himself. “Letter of denial? Why? I thought she was waiting to see if she even got accepted or could stay for a few months rather than two years.”

“Yeah, well, the owners only do a two-year lease. They had been holding off on rebooking the cottage for your girlfriend since she had shown interest in it, and they were repairing the roof.” Papers rustled in the background. “But now that the roof is fixed, she only has until the end of the month to sign all the papers for her stay.” The end of the month was tomorrow. “But since she decided to go to Okinawa, she must send in the denial letter. That way, they can lease it to this other couple that is interested.”

Suguru’s mouth felt dry as he sat back on his knees. “Wait, what?” Sensing the shock in his voice, Utahime blinked.

“She declined the offer and went to Okinawa with you.”

So many thoughts flowed in Suguru’s mind as he put the puzzle pieces together. That’s why you were so upset on that first day here, distant and off. You had given up on one of your dreams to help him. It was a complete and utterly unselfish thing for you to do for him.

Suguru loved you so incredibly much that he knew what to do.

“Geto, are you there?”

“Uh yeah! Sorry, hey, about that denial letter, she actually—.”

Ten minutes later, you returned with a bucket and fresh towels. You were praying the pain hadn’t settled into the floor yet; you hadn’t anticipated it would take you this long to get the materials your boyfriend needed to clean up. But the custodian you had run into was nice enough to help you retrieve some towels and cleaning products you could use.

“Sorry it took so long, babe! I told one of the staff members what happened, and they just got me some towels!

You watched as Suguru hung up your phone, placing it back on your table. “Oh, no worries; I got a lot of it up, so cleaning the rest won’t be that big of a deal.” Suguru watched as you dropped to your knees and started wiping up the remaining paint streaks, taking your happy, smiling face in and saving it to his memory because he’d need to remember you like this.

“Say after this, let me take you shopping for some clothes. Maybe a new laptop and stuff.”

“Huh? But why? My laptop is doing okay.”

“Because I want to spoil my girlfriend for a bit.”

Without hesitation or arguments, you let your boyfriend take you to the store and get you some new clothes, more suitcases, and snacks. You thought he wanted to spend a weekend with you, like a movie marathon, on the beach, where you both lazily stared off into the horizon. While you fantasized about the weekend to come in the warm, sunny Okinawa, Suguru’s stomach was twisted in knots.

The whole helping-you with your book agreement started because he didn’t want to lose you. How could he not be with you for two years? When he hadn’t even told you how he felt. But now that you were his girlfriend seeing how devastated you were over the prospect of losing the cottage that inspired you and knowing that you had sacrificed to help him made him realize how selfish he had been. Suguru didn’t want to be the one holding you back. He didn’t want you giving up on your dreams because you were more concerned about him and his happiness. You deserved to see the place that had inspired your book series in person. He couldn’t deny you that right.

So, as you both headed out of the aquarium, bags in hand while your fingers were intertwined, Suguru took a second to look at your face; your eyes wandered over the aquarium tanks, admiring fishes and whales like you every night when leaving. Your happy smile, the way you occasionally steal glances at him, and how you held his hand as tight as you could as you walked out to head back home. Suguru needed to savor every second of this evening with you.

In the morning, Suguru was going to watch you leave for Europe.

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