#all he NEEDS is to hang on to his life. it's all he has it's all he needs. as long as he has that then he can keep moving forward

[written-in-knife]

Jump Rings and Bite Marks

Floyd Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, miscommunications, fluff, swearing

You have a crush on Floyd, Floyd has a crush on you... not that either of you admit to it in a way that the other understands.

Word Count: 6110

Okay so remember how we looked past the intro on my Cloudcalling fic and it got better a little ways in? Yeah? I need yall to trust me again, there's like two sections of lead up into the good stuff that I couldn't figure out how to rework to fit better but they're a little too tied into the plot to get rid of. Yall trust me? This is heavily influenced by various other Floyd fics and it's also my tribute to the merform gatcha gods for my final ten pull, wish me luck!

Ace and Deuce had finally gotten used to how blunt you often were, more often showing annoyance with their actions than cracking a smile, but they knew you cared about them. So when the anemones sprouted on their heads, they weren’t surprised to see you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms but you agreed to help them out to the best of your abilities the next day at lunch. You already had the Headmage on your ass about fixing this problem, but you weren’t about to leave your best friends hanging.

After you followed Azul around for a day with Jack, you were approached by the twins. When they turned their attention from the anemones to you, your friends watched as your eyes went wide. You looked... nervous? For the first time since they met you, you looked nervous about a non life threatening situation. Which was fair, the Leech twins were intimidating. Floyd teased you about the look on your face, dubbing you Shrimpy. Jack was the only one to notice the shift in your demeanor, namely the blush that rose to your cheeks for a moment as they kept speaking to you. He said nothing, figuring you were just uncomfortable about being singled out. When you went to the Mostro Lounge that night, you were surprisingly accommodating when the twins volunteered you and Jack to help with orders. You didn’t need any direction or instruction past how the tables were set up, you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

Jack noticed the blush on your cheeks again when the twins confronted you outside the Atlantica Memorial Museum. While Deuce and Ace were going pale upon seeing the two, you were red? He hoped with fury. He noticed it again after you were all electrocuted by the contract in Azul’s office, when Floyd threatened to squeeze you all. He watched you hang in the doorway a moment as you all escaped, he was the only one to see your wide smirk as you blew them all a kiss goodbye before joining the rest in their escape. When you finally got the photo out of the museum and got cornered by the twins again, Jack swore you looked happy to see them, grinning wide when you heard Floyd call out Shrimpy. That was because of your plan, right? Right?

The boys didn’t have to know about your little crush, the way your mind blanked whenever Floyd got a little too close. So when he swam in a tight circle around you, his tail fin brushing against your arms as he wrapped around and away, it was all you could do to not start twirling your damn hair. You sounded a little too eager to your own ears when you took up Floyd’s suggestion of “tag” until the sun went down, hoping the others just saw it as you being thrilled that your plan was working. As with most magical fights, the best you could do was call shots. During the overblots, you found blunt objects you could physically attack with, but underwater when your movements were so restricted anyways? No shot. You had just yanked Deuce out of the way of an incoming spell, and he turned to thank you just in time to see Floyd swimming up from behind, much faster than anyone expected. You barely had time to turn around at your friend’s fearful expression when Floyd crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and swimming away. The way he was holding you pinned your arms to your sides, and he started absolutely cackling as he started for the surface. You were much too close, the skin contact, the way you were pressed against his chest. Your face was bright red at this point. You held your breath as he broke the surface of the water, the potion still in effect, and with his full strength coupled with the momentum, chucked you into the air. You wanted to yell, but continued holding your breath until you were back in the water. When you dropped back under, you were laughing, loud and delighted. It absolutely threw Floyd off as he swam to grab you again, holding you by the waist this time, twirling the two of you around as he swam. You yelped when he grabbed you, still laughing as he moved.

“Shrimpyy~ where’s the picture?” He drawled lazily, as if he weren’t swimming at full speed, twisting around with you in his arms.

“I don’t have it!” You laughed, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto his arms.

“Eh? Are you having fun?” He asked with a large, sharp grin, leaning in closer and squeezing you a little tighter.

You didn’t have time to respond before he dropped you, practically bowling you into your classmates. You landed on top of Ace, who tumbled into Jack before you were all in a heap on the ground, you still chuckling and dizzy.

..

Three overblots in the bag and you were finally getting used to the way things would just go back to normal afterwards, like there wasn’t just a massive, life-threatening fight. Jack handed you the photo from the museum, announcing your victory despite there not being a contract anymore. When you held up the picture, Floyd came over and draped himself on your right shoulder.

“Aha ha, that takes me back! This is a picture from our school field trip.” He announced as he leaned in closer to get a better look at it, pointing at the kids in the picture. “Me 'n Jade are right here. Aaand...” he dragged his finger over with his drawn out word, “see the kid sulking way off in the corner? That's baby Azul!”

Azul screamed as you pulled the picture closer to your face to look and cooed about how cute he was. “DON’T LOOK! PLEASE DON’T LOOK!”

He made to leap forward to snatch the picture, only to be blocked by Jade, now hovering near your left side with a sly grin. “Well well, Azul, you sure are spirited all of a sudden.” Jade practically purred. “Shouldn't you get a little more sleep? Considering how far things have already gone, it would be easier for you to let this one go.”

Floyd took the picture from you to hold out for the others to see, not removing himself from your shoulder as he did. Azul screamed again as everyone looked at the picture, making their own remarks on baby Azul.

..

Jade noticed how close his brother was getting to you, he would do this fairly often. Find someone he thought was interesting, cling to them for a week or so, then get bored and never interact with them again. But the weeks were going by with no sign of him letting up. Floyd sulked when he couldn’t find you at Ramshackle after a few days into the winter holiday, not knowing you were being essentially held captive in Scarabia. When you and Grim crash landed in the Mostro Lounge, Floyd scooped you up off the floor, your feet dangling in the air as he squeezed you and twirled you around. He only put you back down when the Scarabia students threatened them, and Jade watched as he stepped protectively in front of you. Interesting. After the fight, Jade patched up the cuts and scrapes you’d gotten when you crashed into the lounge. He sat you in a stool at the bar, Floyd jumping up to sit on the counter behind you, despite Azul’s protesting, as you told them what happened. You had almost gotten used to Floyd coming up behind you and resting his chin on top of your head at this point, so it was no surprise that he did it when you were trying to explain.

More time passed than Jade expected. You’d dealt with Jamil and Vil’s overblots and Floyd was still following you around. He noticed his brother snap at anyone else who got too friendly with you, and watched as he brought you little gifts nearly every day. A tooth here, a scale there, he even found you a pearl once. He followed you around more often than not, to the point where Azul wrote up an employee contract for you to get paid to sit in the Lounge so Floyd would show up for work and stay for his entire shift. Most of your classmates avoided you like the plague, even when Floyd wasn’t around. Even your friends were almost too intimidated to hang around. Almost. They stuck around when Floyd was busy with something else, often asking if you were okay, if you were in danger. You always waved them off, claiming that Floyd was mostly harmless. Interesting.

You were in the lounge, getting paid to sit at the bar so Floyd would do his job. You’d tried to sit in the booths before, but it was apparently too far away for Floyd’s liking as he would wander out of the kitchen and join your table, food orders piling up while he just sat with you. So Azul moved you to the bar, designating a seat for you where Floyd could see you through the window. You pretended not to notice when Azul would grumble about this “silly infatuation” Floyd had. You knew he liked having you around, he had mentioned that he thought your reactions were hilarious, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call it an infatuation. Sure, you flirted here and there, but you just kinda figured that was part of his whole vibe. You were working on your homework at the bar when there was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Floyd letting out a long string of curses and the telltale bang that he’d just kicked something. You glanced around quickly, trying to see if Jade or Azul were nearby to go in and check on him, only to find them both busy with their tables. You hopped off your bar stool and wandered to the kitchen door, pushing it open just enough to poke your head in. Floyd was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing at the side of his head and pouting, looking down at something in his hand.

“Floyd?” You called out, catching his attention. “You okay?”

He looked over quickly, pouting even harder as he did. “Shrimpyy...” He groaned as he wandered over, pulling you into the kitchen proper and draping himself over your shoulders like he usually did. He stared you in the eyes for a moment before looking down at what was in his hand again, prompting you to also look down. Shining blue scales and jump rings in a pile in his hand. You looked back up at him, tilting your head slightly to see that the only part of his earring that was still there was the post itself.

“Oh, what happened?” You asked, reaching up to take the post out of his ear.

“I caught it on that damn shelf,” he huffed, glaring over at it like he could set it on fire, “Azul’s never fucking in here, why’s it matter to him if I move the damn thing higher up so I don’t bash my fucking head?”

His ear wasn’t bleeding, as far as you could tell. You dropped the post into your palm and held your hand under his for him to pass you the rest of the pieces. He just stared at you for a moment before tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ve got a needle nose back at Ramshackle,” you explained, not moving your hand away, “I can bring it back to you in the morning.”

He just blinked at you for a moment before carefully dumping the rest of the pieces into your hand. “Careful with it, our mom made us these before we started middle school.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, extracting yourself out from underneath him.

He just watched as you gently folded your fingers around the pieces and walked out of the kitchen, too much going through his head to make a bigger reaction. You headed back to your spot to gather up your things, catching Azul’s attention from where he was making a coffee.

“Done with your work?” He asked from behind the bar.

“No, something came up,” you shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder, still gently cradling the earring pieces to your chest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and concern as he watched you walk out of the lounge. He’d seen you come out of the kitchen... He put the coffee down and walked back into the kitchen, where Floyd was still standing in the same spot, rubbing at his earlobe.

“What was that?” Azul asked, crossing his arms.

“I think I’m getting married.” Floyd responded casually before turning back to the prep table.

“What does that mean?!”

You’d had to go to Sam’s to pick up more jump rings, one of them having gotten lost or snapped when the earring broke. Sam really did stock everything, and you were glad for it. It didn’t take long at all to put the pieces back together. Three scales, the tracks still in place, it was just the jump rings that had stretched open with the strain. You decided to just replace the rings all together rather than risk the metal fatigue on such a small wire. You finished it with enough time to finish your homework before bed. The next morning before classes, you headed over to Octavinelle. You were hoping to find Floyd in the student lounge, or maybe Mostro, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You’d been to the twins’ room before when Floyd insisted on showing you a new pair of sneakers he’d gotten for basketball, so you knew where it was. You weren’t particularly excited about dropping in unannounced so early in the morning, however. You wandered down the hallway towards their room, other students giving you a wide berth as you passed, muttering behind your back. Ever since Floyd started following you around, it was always the Octavinelle students that had the most to talk about, and they weren’t exactly subtle. But you ignored it as you always did as you approached the twins’ door and knocked, it’s not like their gossip could bother you unless you let it, right? You only had to wait a moment before the door swung open revealing Jade, hair half ironed and a confused look on his face. The look only lasted a moment though, quickly turning to a smirk before he turned to go back to his desk, leaving the door open for you. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, Jade sitting down to return his focus to his flat iron. Floyd was still asleep on his side of the room, face down, tangled up in his blankets and hoodie, one arm dangling off the bed. You walked over and set your bag down next to the bed, leaning down to put a hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. You didn’t get the chance to shake. The second your hand hit his shoulder, his eyes flew open, the hand that had been brushing the floor shot up to grab you by the lapel of your jacket. It only took a second for him to adjust, his murderous look quickly shifting to a wide, sleepy grin as he let go of your jacket.

“Shrimpyy~” He crooned through a yawn, grabbing your arm to pull you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

“Floyd--!” You yelped as he yanked you into bed, arms coiling tightly around you.

He hummed pleasantly, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “You should wake me up every morning, you’re much nicer than Jade~!”

“If only it were always that easy to wake you.” Jade chimed in.

“Ya don’t haffta dump cold water on me, ya know.” Floyd snapped, arms tightening around you as he turned his head to glare at his brother.

“Sometimes that is the only way, Floyd.” Jade grinned wickedly at him before turning off the flat iron and standing up. “Do try not to stay here all morning, we still have classes to get to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd huffed, burrowing his head back into your shoulder as Jade left the room.

Once Jade was gone, you pushed up slightly from Floyd’s grasp, pushing his face to the side to get better access to his ear. He laughed at your antics until he felt you slide his earring back into place, one hand darting up to feel the fixed jewelry. He looked shocked for a moment as he turned his head back to you before laughing in delight, both arms coiling around you and twisting you to lay next to him on the bed between him and the wall, the two of you now facing each other on your sides, your legs still draped over his. He didn’t say anything as he nuzzled back into your shoulder, and for a moment you thought it was just him being sweet, until you felt his teeth dig into the bend of your neck.

“FLOYD!” You shrieked, instinctively grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and yanking.

It did little to deter him, his sharp teeth digging further into the soft skin of your neck painfully. After what felt like a very long moment, you felt his teeth slide back out, replaced by his tongue dragging over the wound. The sensation made you shiver as he did it again, pain rippling up your neck.

“What the hell was that for?!” You asked as he finally pulled back, a little bit of your blood on his bottom lip.

“What, I can’t say thank you?” He asked in a teasing tone, his hands running down your back as he moved in closer, eyes locked with yours. “Yer all red~”

“That hurt, Floyd.” You snapped.

“Hm... could bite me back, it’d make ya feel better.” He yawned again before flashing his teeth at you in a grin that felt slightly menacing.

“No thanks.” You huffed, moving to sit up again. He gave you a confused look as you climbed back over him to get off the bed. “I gotta meet up with Jamil before class starts, I’ll see you later.”

He sat up, watching after you as you left the room, looking more and more confused the further away you got. He waited a few minutes to be sure you were gone before he rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed before heading to Azul’s office. He was pouting when he slammed open the door, startling Azul away from his paperwork, Jade casually looking up from a page he was reviewing.

“Ah, Floyd. Did everything go well?” Jade asked, the question alone making Floyd kick over a chair before flopping onto the couch.

“No.” He spat out, curling up on his side, facing the back of the couch.

“What in the world are you two on about now?” Azul sighed heavily, glancing between the two of them.

“Well, whyever not?” Jade asked, ignoring Azul’s question.

“They fixed my earring!” Floyd grumbled, turning his head to display it. “And they didn’t even bite me back!”

Azul and Jade exchanged glances for a second, before Azul chimed in. “You... bit Yuu?”

“Duh!”

“Well, they are a human, perhaps they don’t--”

“I’m sure it just startled them, and they will return your affections when they are ready.” Jade said over Azul, hoping more than anything to just watch the chaos unfold.

“But they fixed my earring!” He whined, pouting at his brother, apparently not having heard Azul.

“They are human, it’s likely humans take things slower.”

Azul threw his hands up slightly, glancing around as if to confirm with someone else that he was actually in the room.

“Fiiine...”

Things changed slightly after you fixed Floyd’s earring. He’d bit you really hard, it was likely going to end up leaving a scar behind. But every day afterwards, you caught him staring at you more, as if expecting you to do something. After a few days of him staring so intently, you ended up attempting to do a backflip on the grass in the courtyard. Attempt being the operative word. You got most of the way through it before belly flopping into the ground. It was better than you thought you would do, and it made him bust out laughing as he jogged over to check on you. Every day his stare seemed to get more and more intense, but not much else changed. His gifts were coming a little more frequently, he even made you a little necklace with a chain, some wire, and another pearl he’d found, and he was still hovering enough to keep most of your classmates away. Almost a week out and your neck was still sore and bruised. You were eating lunch in the cafeteria with the freshman group when you turned your neck wrong, catching a painful spot and causing you to reach up and massage it.

“You alright?” Epel asked when you accidentally bumped him with your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry, just hurts.” You grumbled.

“What does?”

“Floyd fucking bit me last week.” You sighed, rolling your shoulder a bit as you put your hand down. “Like, really hard.”

“Dude, he bit you?” Ace asked through an amused snort, getting you to glare at him.

“...How hard?” Jack asked hesitantly, Ace snickering behind his hand.

“Hard enough to bleed, probably gonna scar.” You complained, popping the top button on your shirt and moving the collar of your shirt aside for them to see it. “Jamil helped me clean it up, but even he thinks it’s gonna leave a mark.”

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked back down at his lunch, cheeks dusted pink and ears flattening backwards. You shook his reaction off as Epel examined it a little closer.

“It doesn’t look infected, at least.” He confirmed, still grimacing. “Ya weren’t kiddin’ though, that looks rough.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar.” Deuce agreed, turning back to his lunch as you covered the mark up again. “At least you have a permanent reminder of NRC, even if you do go home.”

“Gee, I’m so incredibly thrilled.” You deadpanned, making him snort out a laugh.

Ace nudged Jack, who was still staring intently at his sandwich, with his elbow. “What’s up man? I know your puritanical beliefs don’t allow you to view ankles or whatever--” you nearly cackled at the quip, “--but it’s alright! They’re properly covered now!”

“You make me sound like a whore for showing my sinful neck.”

“Yeah, you heard me.”

You snickered before turning to Deuce and Epel. “Imagine if I had to show this shit to Rollo.”

“I think he’d die of a heart attack the second you opened your collar.” Deuce laughed, Epel chuckling along.

“Likely guy’d pop an aneurysm ‘fore a boner.” Epel chimed in.

The three of you going off on your tangent kept Jack from explaining what a bite like that meant. He figured you’d find out eventually. The topic changed entirely for the rest of the lunch period. Before lunch was over, however, someone plopped down beside you, cutting off any remaining conversation.

“Hey Floyd.” You said without having to look up, still working on the last bits of your lunch as he leaned on your shoulder with a sound that almost resembled a purr.

Ace and Deuce were already on their feet, quickly saying their goodbyes before scrambling away, obviously still traumatized by the contract fiasco. Epel patted your shoulder, careful of your injury, and said goodbye before leaving as well. Jack stayed for a moment, locking eyes with Floyd.

“What’s up, Sea Urchin?” Floyd drawled lazily, a dangerous smile on his face.

Jack shook his head and stood up. “Nothin’. See ya, Yuu.”

You waved to Jack as he left before looking at Floyd, who looked highly satisfied. “Well, you chased off all my friends. What’s up?”

“Meet me in the mirror chamber after class, okay?” He asked, sounding significantly more like a demand.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise~”

You arrived at the mirror chamber not long after classes let out, having to drop your stuff back at Ramshackle before going. The second you walked through the door, Floyd was in front of you, shoving a potion into your arms.

“Drink this!” He said excitedly before jogging over to the dark mirror.

You examined what he handed you, one of Azul’s water breathing potions, and quirked an eyebrow at him as you moved to join him by the mirror.

“Floyd, where are we going?” You asked, trying not to get exasperated by his antics.

“Less thinkin’ more drinkin’!” He commanded, popping the cork out of the bottle for you.

He nearly lifted it to your lips before you pulled it out of his reach. You sighed heavily before chugging down the disgusting potion while Floyd nearly bounced with excitement. Once the bottle was empty, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you after him into the mirror, the dizzying transition into the water causing you to squeeze you eyes shut to ward off the vertigo. Once you opened your eyes again, Floyd was in his natural form, absolutely beaming at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and speeding away.

“Floyd!” You laughed as he spun you around, clearly heading in a specific direction. “Where are we going?!”

“You’ll see, quit askin’!” He laughed back at you, twisting in the opposite direction to wrap his tail fin around your legs for a moment.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, holding onto his shoulders as he cut through the water. You could barely see the scenery of the ocean floor as it whipped past, occasionally able to catch glances of schools of fish as they scattered away from Floyd. The further you went, the darker it got, until you were just able to make out glowing speckles along his arms, up his shoulders, around his neck. It looked like the night sky and you couldn’t stop staring, even as he slowed down. You were finally broken out of the trance when he stopped, laughing as he looked down at you.

“Yer like a fish, distracted by anything shiny.” He teased as he set you down.

Now that you were able to look around, you could see that he brought you to a cave. He’d sat you in the middle on a nicely angled stone in the only patch of light that was filtering in from a hole at the top that was letting in the sun.

“Where are we?” You asked, turning to look at him again, only to find he’d disappeared.

Your head whipped around as you tried to spot him. He wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

His laughter bounced off the cave walls, making it impossible to pinpoint where he actually was. “A cave. Don’t worry, I scoped it out, ain’t nothin’ livin’ in here.”

“Okay... Why are we here, then?”

You spotted the bright flecks of his skin above you on a shaded overhang, lounged out on his stomach on the very edge, glowing yellow eye peering down at you. He grinned as you made eye contact, but you could only see it in the way his gaze narrowed.

“Cause I figured out why ya wouldn’t bite me.” He explained, not moving from his spot. “Too many people around ya, all the damn time! No way to getcha alone back at school, so...” his arms fanned out as if displaying the cave, “ta-da! Nobody’s gonna interrupt us here!”

“You... want me to bite you?” You asked, confused, watching his proud expression blink into blank.

“Yeah?”

“...Why?”

He blinked a few more times before propping himself up on his elbows to look at you better. You could see him a little better now, he almost looked offended.

“What’dya mean why?” He asked, hostility creeping into his tone as he leaned over the edge of the overhang. “Do ya not wanna bite me?”

You paused, trying to search your memory for any clue as to what he would be talking about and coming up blank. “Why would I?” Is what came out after a moment.

His brows furrowed as he pushed off the overhang, swimming over to you. He circled you slowly, searching your expression with each pass as his tail fin got closer and closer to holding you in place. When he finally stopped, his tail was wrapped loosely around you, almost like a threat, as he looked you dead in the eyes. He looked upset, confused... hurt?

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked back with an angry pout. “Ya fixed my earring, didn’tcha? I didn’t even ask, ya just did it.”

You blinked rapidly at the whiplash, getting even more confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His confused expression matched yours now, less upset than before as he moved in closer, examining your eyes for a moment before pulling back again and furrowed his brows like he was about to crack the code. Before you could ask any of the hundred questions dancing around your head, he popped the top button on your shirt and yanked your collar aside to see the bite mark. He met your eyes again, pointing at the mark.

“What is this?” It sounded more like he was explaining shapes to a toddler.

“That’s where you bit me.” You snapped, swatting his hand away only for him to lean in closer, tail tightening around you.

“What does it mean?”

You gave him another confused look as he stared you down steadily. Your eyes drifted away for a second as you thought about it, shaking your head as you met his eyes. “You said it was to say thank you? Helluva thanks, by the way, shit hurts.”

He looked confused again, searching your expression for any hint that you were messing around. Finding none, he narrowed his eyes at you for a second before smiling and tilting his head to the side.

“Shrimpy doesn’t know what the bite means~” He teased, tail squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go as he resumed his lazy circles around you. “Betcha didn’t know what fixin’ my earring meant either, huh? Oh shit, you probably didn’t know about our dance either!”

“What is happening right now...?” You sighed heavily, catching his eye every time he floated into your vision.

On one of his passes he scooped you up, moving to sit on the rock himself and placing you in his lap, one leg on either side of his tail. He grabbed you by the chin, tilting your head to the side to examine the bite closer as he laughed.

“That day in front of the museum,” he started quietly, close to your ear, “when I grabbed ya and threw ya outta the water... you remember?” You nodded slowly, feeling him smile against your jaw. “You thought it was fun, I thought that was real cute. That spinnin’ that I did was flirtin’, I was dancin' with ya.”

“What--?”

“So’s all the little things I getcha...” His hands moved down to your waist, ignoring the question he’d interrupted. “I was gettin’ pretty confused why you weren’t get me anything, til you fixed my earring...” He turned his head, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “See, jewelry’s real important for us merfolk. Gettin’ jewelry usually means a lot, means ya really care if you’re outside the family. Like ya wanna stick around. I thought it was real weird that ya used my own earring, but yer also poor. I thought that was your way of sayin’ ya wanted to stick around...” You glanced at his earring, surprised Floyd of all people had put so much meaning behind what you thought was just a kind gesture. Different cultures, you supposed. He nipped at your ear as you tried to turn to look at him, a warning to stay where you were. “S’why I bit ya... Means you’re mine.” His fingers tightened on your waist. “Thought that’s whatcha meant when ya fixed it...”

Your heart pitched at the sad tone in his voice. You knew the two of you had been flirting, turns out you didn’t know just how extensively. Your fingers flexed at his shoulders as he leaned the side of his head against yours, staring at the bite mark. What’s a bite, anyways? It got you where you ultimately wanted, which was dating Floyd. You sighed heavily, before leaning forward, and biting down as hard as you could on the same place he’d put yours. You heard his breath hitch before he broke into laughter, and you didn’t stop until you tasted blood mixed with the salt water. When he started to bleed, he tugged at your hair, pulling you off him. He looked delighted as he met your eye, tail fin snaking up behind you and wrapping around your waist.

“Aww, Shrimpyy~” He cooed, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“Coulda just told me that’s what that was about.” You scoffed, gently rubbing the area around the wound you’d created.

He shrugged, rubbing his nose against yours as he pulled you tighter against his chest. “No backin’ out now~” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, about to quip back when he pulled you the rest of the way in, closing the distance. His lips were a lot softer than you expected as they moved against yours, sharp teeth nipping against your bottom lip when he grinned into the kiss. He tried to follow when you backed off, needing air, until he saw your hand fly to your neck. You needed air. He barely got out an “oh shit” as he unraveled his tail before he took off with you in his arms, speeding out of the cave and shooting up towards the surface. Once you broke the surface, he gave you a second to catch your breath.

"I didn't grab another potion." He laughed. "How long can you hold your breath?"

You rolled your eyes again, pulling him into another quick kiss. Quick turned sour as Floyd pulled you in, and you had a feeling there would be no such thing as a quick kiss with him.

::

“Ah, there you are, Yuu!” Jade called out as he approached you in the hallway, a delighted smile on his face.

“Hey Jade, what’s up?” You asked, ignoring how your friends shuffled off to the side to avoid Jade’s attention.

“I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials.” He beamed down at you.

“My what?”

“I was surprised when Floyd told me, of course,” he continued, ignoring your question, “it all happened very fast, and the two of you are so young, but isn’t that just the way of things?”

You looked desperately to your friends, Ace and Epel snickering and muttering to each other, Deuce looked shocked, and Jack was just shaking his head. There was no help to be found from any of them.

“Our mother is asking after you,” he kept going, making your head spin as you tried to process the information, “and I’m sure our father would also like to meet his new child-in-law--”

“Child-in-law?” You squeaked out.

“--so we will need to make arrangements for introductions.” He paused for a moment, tapping a knuckle against his chin as he thought. “The two of you have stirred up quite a fuss, I’m sure Mother will want to make plans for a more formal affair... We’ll have to see about getting a row boat...”

“Why do we need a boat?”

“Oi!” You didn’t have time to turn towards the voice before a notebook sailed over your head, smacking Jade square in the face. When it dropped, so did Jade’s serious expression, now sporting the usual mischievous grin that he had whenever he was messing with someone. Floyd came up beside you, resting an elbow on your shoulder as he did, glaring at his brother. “I just got ‘em hooked, don’t be all weird and scare ‘em off.”

“What, I can’t tease them anymore now that they’re my sibling-in-law?” Jade drawled.

“Least wait til I get Ma on board.” Floyd grumbled before stooping down and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Floyd, what does he mean “nuptials?”” You asked quickly, Ace and Epel cackling at your expense as he carried you off. “What does he mean “in-law?””

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[the-oracleof-delphi]

PAC: How do they feel about you?

Please remember, tarot card readings are just energy readings and energy is not static. Do not put your life on hold for anything. Or anyone. May you receive the message you are meant to.

Pile 1. Biscuits. [The Star, Ace of Cups, 2 of Wands, The Emperor]

:: The person in your mind feels as if you had over-extended yourself for them emotionally. So much so that, you had forgotten to fill your own cup but never failed to cater to them. You neglected yourself and your own emotional well-being. This person is likely someone who is a popular choice, they are surrounded by people who are too eager to have this person in their lives and you were one of them. You poured into a cup already filled to the brim, and as it usually happens, they took you for granted.

:: They also feel like, your emotions are too overwhelming or smothering. They are afraid if they do choose to interact with you, they will soon feel overwhelmed. They feel you are someone who is completely driven by your emotions. This can be scary for them, especially if they are more on the practical side.

:: They feel you have moved on. Perhaps, initially they were guilty of choosing someone else over you and that did not work out. Now they feel if they approach you again, you would reject their offer.

:: They feel defeated by you. They think you are this strong immovable force who cannot be influenced by them no matter how hard they try. This person may have played some sort of mind-games with you in the past, there is an air of childishness and petulance about them. But now they feel as if they have been defeated at their own games.

Pile 2. Cup of blueberries. [The Star, 3 of Swords, 8 of cups, 6 of pentacles]

:: Quite similar to Pile 1, there is a person here who is over-giving, extremely nurturing, neglects one's own self for the sake of others. Someone is selfless, motherly, and emotional and that person is you, this is how this person sees you. The star card could also mean they now feel that you are out of their reach in a way. They can't help but view you through an idealistic lens.

:: They feel you were left heart-broken due to this connection, they also feel their words had somehow hurt you deeply. They think you are this giving and nurturing person, but they ended up subjecting you to terrible harshness through their words and now they feel guilty and sorry.

:: They feel you were left emotionally unfulfilled in this connection. It was you who was doing all the heavy-lifting, putting in more effort and appreciation than you received. And ultimately that tired you out. They feel in a way, they compelled you to give up. You had to walk away, and now they feel abandoned by you.

:: In their mind this was not a reciprocal relationship. They probably gave you crumbs when you were desperately hoping for more. You on the other hand were unnaturally giving and generous. The relationship was not equal, they held more power over you and they feel they had exploited that power.

Pile 3. Headphones. [The Chariot, The Hanged man, The Fool, 7 of swords]

:: This is a man or a woman who has successfully mastered his/her emotions, this person has good control over them. Yet, they feel emotionally attached to you. They feel the need to connect with you but there is an energy of holding back and stagnation.

:: They feel that they are emotionally bound to you in a way. The energy here is immobile, although there is a strong sense of attachment. They are not very spiritual they are definitely seeing this relationship from a different angle, in the sense they feel there is a spiritual aspect to this connection. It is quite different from the rest and for now, the person feels they need to take a pause. They are looking for some form of clarity that has not come yet. And unless he is hundred percent sure about something, this person does not take any decisions.

:: They feel you are free spirited, young and somewhat naive. Quite different from his previous relationships. They also see you as someone loyal. A fresh start is what they are looking for, they feel when it comes to you they have to take a leap of faith. Because, as I mentioned earlier, you are quite different than the type of people they usually go for.

:: The seven of swords stands for deception. Again this person fears being deceived, maybe it was something that had happened in their previous relationship, hence now they are being extra careful. This person does not like ambiguity and they feel you are hiding something. They don't think you are untrustworthy, but just that until they have received clarity they are scared of taking a step forward.

icon credit: @/i-hani divider: @/saradika-graphics

edit: grammatical errors and phrasing.

[seongminiz]

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ good kitty ₊˚⊹♡

. . ? boy pussy cat hybrid jungwon x gn reader – smut / minors dni ; 1135 words

cw dubcon ? , switch/sub leaning jungwon , possessive jungwon , scratching , dry humping , heats , fingering , praise , a liiiiittle tiny bit of spit .. ; very half assed n not proof read bc thats the jo seongminiz way of life , yes i did that thing where my grammar/writing gets better the further u get into the fic IM SORRY

(dont ask me how i had this idea it just spawned in my brain through the sheer power of lesbianism)

cat hybrid!jungwon was kind of shy when u first started living together , but he quickly warmed up to you n became sooo clingy, now he follows u everywhere you go n asks for cuddles n head scratches at any time of the day , no matter how busy u r ..

despite being so clingy , though , jungwon was never as desperate for your attention as he has been for the past few days : constantly sneaking up on u n wrapping his tail around your waist , or letting it snake up your leg , rubbing his nose on your neck and holding you tighter than usual when you cuddle .

jungwon has also started showing a possessive streak , wagging his tail and flattening his ears in discontent when you come home from work n your clothes smell like someone else – rationally , he knows its normal , he shouldn't be this upset by you simply going outside n interacting with other people , even other hybrids .. but there's a more irrational part of him that has started to think its not fair , n he should just keep you all to himself

this all culminated on one particular night , jungwon has been restless the whole day , waiting for you to come home more eagerly than ever because he needs to see you, to be close to you , to touch you and ... his thoughts trail off as he feels a familiar heat between his legs , one he has forced himself to ignore ever since he moved in with you , but it's been getting so much worse lately , maybe if he asked you for help you could ....

the door clicks open , n you immediately notice something is wrong , mostly because jungwon is sitting quietly by the door , slightly dozing off , the blush on his cheeks more prominent than usual and a hand absentmindedly slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants , just .. there .

'jungwon?' u call out , his ears immediately perking up and twitching as soon as he hears your voice . he should feel bad when he sees the worried expression on your face , almost scared , not knowing exactly whats going on with him – instead , jungwon is happy and , to be completely honest , slightly turned on by it .

'wonie? are you sick?' you try again , crouching next to jungwon , shaking him by his shoulder to catch his attention , but all you get from him is a pained whimper that makes you immediately retract your hand , scared that u might have hurt him in any way .

despite his condition , jungwon still has the quick reflexes of a cat , he wraps his hand around your wrist and he pulls you closer again , claws digging slightly into your skin.

''m sorry' jungwon mumbles, rubbing his nose on your hand before licking the tips of your fingers . it's then you realize his other hand is still between his legs , moving so imperceptibly you wouldn't have noticed if u were any further away . the realization finally dawns on you .

'wonie are you ..' u let the question hang as another whimper leaves the cat hybrid's parted lips . jungwon nods weakly and , before you have time to process it , he has pushed you to the floor , hips straddling yours and both hands now holding you down.

'it hurts' he confesses, not so subtly grinding his hips down on your thigh . you should push him off , help him get through his heat in an appropriate way instead of letting him do however he pleases with you – instead , you just lay there , one hand slowly slipping out of jungwon's desperate grasp and brushing on the exposed skin between his shirt and pants , despite the small feeling of insufferable guilt at the back of your head .

you hook your fingers into the waistband , and jungwon swears he could cum just from you taking his clothes off . he doesn't , but he sure as hell would if he had just a bit of self control less than he does right now .

'what do you want?' you ask , now impossibly turned on too . it would be a lie to say u never felt attracted to jungwon , but this is the first time you have to face that attraction with no other way to cope with it than to act on it . to fuck him .

jungwon doesn't answer , opting to hump your thigh again instead with a broken moan . you can feel his wetness seep through his underwear and your own clothes , and it drives you even more insane .

'jungwon.' you reprimand , voice more firm as you hold his hips still . he tries to protest , but relents once he realizes you won't let him get away with being a brat , not when he's the desperate one at least .

'need ...' he stops for a second , looking like he genuinely can't form a coherent thought – and he probably , truly can't . the blush on his cheeks deepens as he avoids your gaze , his tail twitching against your legs .

'need your fingers.' he finally mumbles , bending down so he can hide his face in the crook of your neck out of embarrassment .

'see? it wasn't that hard, was it?' you pet jungwon's hair , as your free hand finally slips past his underwear . and god , he's even more wet than you expected , completely soaking your fingers the moment they come in contact with his pussy .

jungwon moans , loud , his whole body freezing up for a split second as you immediately push two fingers in his hole , his walls contracting around them before he relaxes against you , drool dripping out of his mouth and onto the collar of your shirt .

'good kitty,' you praise as you start to move your fingers , relishing in the way jungwon twitches , and moans , and squeezes at every little movement , until he's gripping your shoulders and his claws rip through your clothes – you'll definitely make him pay for that when he's in a more sound state of mind – to mark your skin .

''m gonna cum' jungwon's voice cracks , slightly more high pitched as you add a third finger and curl them inside of him .

'you're gonna cum for me?' you push the heel of your palm on his clit 'gonna cum like a good kitty?'

'yes' jungwon whines , grinding his hips down to meet your thrusts . 'like your good kitty.'

that one self-admission is enough to send jungwon over the edge, trembling and moaning, and cumming so hard he soaks your clothes too , clenching around your fingers until he's completely spent .

you both just lay there , on the floor , too tired to move , or do anything , really – despite your own , new 'problem' between your legs . you'll take care of that later , though . for now , you stay still , petting jungwon's head as he licks and bites along your neck , mumbling 'thank you's and small apologies , and saying something about cleaning you up .

[rexhya]

You the reader have built a successful career as a jujitsu sorcerer. The pay is great, but the hours are long and stressful. After completing an extra grueling mission, the reader decide to reward herself by taking a few days off for a much needed stay home vacation. That means no missions, no meetings, and no emergency calls! The only thing the reader has to concern herself with is how she is going to enjoy the warm spring weather.  The night before the reader’s vacation, she is met with a call from Nanami. No one is sure how, but Gojo has been hit by a curse! Is he okay? Sort of... He has not been physically harmed but our beloved white-haired sorcerer has been turned into a cat! Since the reader has the next few days off, it has been decided that she will be the one to care for the feline. Any concerns from the reader are brush aside and she is assured that the curse will (hopefully) wear off after a few days. So tell me my dear Rexhya, how does the rest of the reader’s vacation pan out with cat Gojo?

days spent w/ catoru — ✦ ✦

warn — not proofread!

incl — catoru

You stretched your back wildly, todays missions were grueling as usual. One special grade was enough to make you wanna take a break for ages. Luckily you didn't have to wish, today was your last work day before a week long vacation full of irresponsible spending and vegging out. Someone had to spend that sorcerer money.

You sighed again, trying to settle into your nightmare routine when your phone began ringing. It was from Nanami, and you automatically let out a breath of desperation. You and Nanami were close but both agreed to not call each other outside of work unless it was work related. This would be bad

"Hey, this still counts as my day off, no takebacks." you groaned, phone to your ear.

"And I apologize for that however this has nothing to do with your time off I'm afraid."

"It doesn't?"

"No."

"Explain, you're making me nervous..."

And he does, you almost want to hang up because of how rediculus it sounds.

"Gojo's been hit with a curse...and now he's a cat?"

"Correct."

"And you've deemed me responsible for taking care of him."

"Also correct."

"On my days off."

Nanami, sighed. "Once again, I apologize, this is secondhand information for me as well. A decision not made by me, they say it'll wear off in a couple of days."

You sigh again, soaking into your bath, "Well in that case I suppose it's fine. Send him over or do whatever it is you need to do, so just as long as I can continue my own life." Nanami grunted and hung up the phone, this probably wouldn't be to hard. You've known Gojo for a long time now, his personality was already something similar of a feline anyways.

How hard could this be?

"Meow."

You stare at the soft whites of the cat in front of you. His vivid blue eyes piercing yours.

You cocked your head sideways, Gojo cheekily doing the same.

You furrowed your brows, "Copy Cat." but he only meowed softly, nuzzling your fingers as if he were a real cat.

"You know I'm not going to spoil you or anything like that, you're probably going to be gone in a week so don't get your hopes up or anything." Gojo made a rather halarious gesture with his jaw, flicking his tail in mock irritation. After he'd been hit by this quirk things had been going in circles, but he knew one thing and that was in this cat form, you would have full advantage of him and he would make you pay attention to him if it was the last thing he did.

It was only the first day of you vacation, you didn't have any plans besides catching up on shows and lazing around all day, even with your new companion that wouldn't stop you. You slumped into the couch tiredly, practically ignore Satoru in a his fluffy whiteness.

"Mreowww." the cat had whined, pawing at your leg insistently.

You ignored him, this behavior wasn't much different from the regular Gojo anyways.

"MERRWWWW," he was practically hissing at this point. You rolled your eyes and paused your show, "What."

"Meow?" he cocked his head sideways, you didn't buy into the innocent act but decided to entertain him anyway. He continued pawing at you untill you leaned over so that your head was facing his directly.

"What, was is it Satoru, I'm trying to watch my show here." Satoru said nothing as he climbed his way up your legs and onto your lap, nuzzling your hands affectionately.

"Are you seriously asking me to pet you?" you said incredulously.

"Merw." and presented himself before you.

"You're not a real cat you know, this is only temporary so don't get used to it." but you began stroking the feline anyways, scratching under his chin and running fingers through his long fur. A very loud and prominent purring sound could be heard coming from him, although knowing Gojo, most of it was probably exaggerated.

Not long after this a simple routine between the two of you developed. You go, he goes. You stay, he stays. It was aroundmid week when your pretty little kitty became a slight problem.

"GOJO NO, LET GO OF HIM YOU TYRANT." but the cat just wasn't budging, his teeth and cawls fully gripped on the store employee who was helping you buy items for Gojos stay.

You hadn't even known what went wrong, one moment you were talking to the guy, joking in fact, the next Satoru's claws were wrapped around the poor mans neck, practically trying to kill him. And for what reason you had no clue, could Gojo seriously be turning to an animal?

"Get, off of him sicko." you finally were able to pry him off, but the guy was already a bloody mess. Gojo only hissed as he cradled his neck, was there some sort of cursed energy you couldnt detect or something? You doubted it. Even if you weren't the strongest sorcerer you were no doubt an extremely powerful ome. A curse during this time wouldn't have gotten past you.

"God, I am so sorry. Are you okay?" the man nodded and temderly nodded.

"Y-yeah, fistey little cat you got there." you smiled, at least he wasn't mad, though he had total right to be. People shouldn't bring there pets into stores if they can't handle them.

"Yeah, he's been very irritating these days." Satoru shrunk back into his cage, and for a second he almost looked scared.

You offered to help the worker but he insisted he was fine, thankfully. You immediately put Satoru in timeout, ignoring his insistent calls for you, he was so loud you almosost gave in.

You stood your ground howeverx you wouldn't let anyone be hurt by him under your care anymorre.

Gojo didn't seem to mind though, after all you wlats returned to him.

+ bonus !!

satoru: lying in you bed like its his, it's you last day of vacation

you: lying there as well

you: welp, time for bed i guess

overnight: you arise to a very tall and veryy lanky, 6 foot blue eyed non feline in your bed

you: you have GOT to be kidding me

satoru: merw?

[wonnieluv]

pull the plug - s.jy

Summary: after working your connections and needing a job after graduating college, you’ve found yourself find yourself working a US Tour for one of your favorite groups, Enhypen

fem!reader x idol!Jake

warnings: suggestive, swearing, kissing, skinship, cuddling, Jake is down bad

masterlist | enha masterlist

Networking is everything. That’s what they drilled into your head the second you stepped foot into college when you decided you wanted to study Music Business.

Now just a few short years later you’re freshly graduated with a job opportunity on your plate for what feels like a dream straight out of one of your favorite tumblr fics. Working as a staff on Enhypen’s US Tour.

That’s how you’ve found yourself standing at the side of the pit while the group runs through their tech rehearsals.

You’re now on the third concert of their tour, and you're definitely settling into the role. It’s tiring at times, but you’re having the time of your life getting to travel and work with one of your favorite artists. The shows have gone smoothly for the most part, except for one minor quirk.

You’ve had to help fix a certain Australian boys microphone at least twice during each soundcheck not to mention an extra third time during the second New York show.

Your boss has overseen you fixing Jake’s mic so many times and not once has she said you’re doing anything wrong. She even made sure to reassure you that you aren’t doing anything wrong but it’s gotten to the point that you’ve officially been put on Jake duty.

Yes. Jake duty.

Your official job of essentially following him around whenever he is offstage to make sure he doesn’t damage the microphone and if he does you can fix it in time for him to go back onstage. During tech rehearsals, sound check, outfit changes, and VCR breaks.

It’s gotten to point where you swear he looked you dead in the eye as he slightly bent the receiver out of place before calling you over to fix it.

Now it wasn’t bent so bad that it was broken but he’s essentially been instructed to not touch it anymore and he’s having way too much fun making you all flustered when you come close to him.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

The members have now all gotten dressed and are prepping to head backstage from their green room. You’re sat in the corner with a staff you’ve befriended chatting about what you want to do on your day off in Chicago the next day before you hear the all too familiar teasing of Jay’s voice

“Y/nnnnn, Jake broke his mic. Again.” You let out a soft sigh and look over to where the pair are now standing seeing Jake’s mic wire hanging out of his jacket where it should be connected to his mic pack.

“Jake just admit it. You’ve got a crush on her and you like it when she touches you” Jay teases as he watches you walk over to Jake to fix his mic.

You’re standing behind him as you feel your face flush slightly at his comment and thank god for that because you don’t even want to imagine the stupid smirk that would adorn is beautifully sculpted face if he was facing you.

“And what if I do. At least I could pull a baddie and you’re sitting over there alone with your guitar” Jake jokes back

Luckily, his mic is back in place because, honestly, you would’ve dropped it. I mean, what else would a person do if Jake called them a baddie

“You’re all good Jake” you say stepping out from behind him but before you fully walk away you pause and face him “and by the way. If you really wanted to flirt. You could do it like a normal person instead of messing with the thousand dollar equipment” you say with a smile. As Jay begins to relentlessly tease him, you make your way back to your previous spot and continue your conversation as if your heart wasn't palpitating at a concerning rate.

Long story short, Jake’s microphone had absolutely no problems the entire show. What replaced it though, was the unnecessary prolonged eye contact, the winks, the smirks, and even the unnecessary slight brushes of his hand against yours as he passes by just a bit too close to you as he moves through the crowded backstage.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

With Jake no longer deliberately sabotaging his microphone, the show went on without a hitch.

Does this mean you were right? Was he really just breaking things on purpose so you'd get close to him? If so, what are you supposed to do with that? Jump his bones? Tempting offer, but you opt to be the nonchalant queen you are and ignore his existence after the show.

You don't say anything as you retrieve his undamaged microphone pack and wires from him after the encore before briskly walking away to place it where it belongs and collect your belongings before the staff car leaves for the hotel. Simple plan really.

Not so simple because a certain Australian boy decided he was going to follow you when he noticed you going off on your own. The next thing you know, your back is against the cement wall of the backstage and your eyes are locking with Jake's.

"Jake, what the hell," you say. The shock of this turn of events evident in your voice

"If you keep avoiding me, I'll start breaking my mic again," He says it so casually you almost miss exactly what he meant. By the time you comprehend any of it he's already walking back down the hallway you both came from.

"See you later pretty girl"

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

You let out a light exhale as you relax into your seat in the car as you wait for the rest of your staff friends to join you. You guys normally leave the venue a while after the boys do as teardown takes a little bit of extra time. By the time you pull up to the fancy hotel they have you in, it's long past midnight.

You bid farewell to your friend as her room is right off the elevator on the floor BeLift rented out for safety purposes. Your room is further down at the end of the hallway, around the corner. You lucked out with a corner room with beautiful views of the city.

As you round the corner to the final stretch of hallway that feels a little more greuling after the long day, you notice a man standing outside your door looking down at his phone in his hands. He has a flop of brown hair on his head, slightly messy from the number of times he ran his hand through it, and a stupidly handsome side profile. You know exactly who he is, but you're not too sure you want to face him right now, so you continue past him without sparing him an obvious glance.

You almost exhale thinking you got past freely before you hear "y/n"

You freeze just as you're about to scan your room key. "Jake," you respond, trying to keep as calm as possible. What on earth could he want from you at nearly 1 in the morning?

You don't turn to face him but you don't enter your room quite yet. You feel him step closer to you.

"What are you doing here Jake...?" You say almost breathily as you continue to face the door

He doesn't say anything before you feel a soft hand gently turning you to face him.

As you make eye contact with him your breath nearly stops at how close his face is to yours. You can practically feel his breath on your lips as you struggle to keep your focus on his eyes.

"I'm here to do something that I've been wanting to do since the moment I laid eyes on you..." His voice comes out almost in a whisper as he slowly backs you up until you're trapped between him and your hotel door.

"And what might that be..." Your gaze flickers to his plump lips just has he bites his lower lip pulling at it slightly before letting it go.

"I think you have a pretty good idea already... I just need you to tell me yes"

A week ago, you would've slapped yourself at the desperation dripping from your voice, but right now in this moment, you don't even care when you reply, "Please..."

The word barely rolls off your tongue before his lips are on yours. Everything about it is soft. His plump lips that are connected to yours. The way he takes his time as he kisses you like he's got all the time in the world. The soft locks that you run your hands through as he pulls you closer, if that's even possible.

You're too engrossed in what's happening to notice him guiding your hand with your room key to the scanner on the door, but the second that door opens, he momentarily pulls away to push you into your room. The door barely shuts before he's back on you.

By the time you pull away to catch your breath, your bag has long been thrown to the ground, his jacket the same, you both look a mess from the clear passion of, as you would put it, whatever the fuck just happened.

"Impatient are we". He chuckles softly as he presses his forehead against yours, with his hands resting on your waist.

You don't respond as you close your eyes in an attempt to steady your breathing and your heartbeat.

The two of you remain there for a moment, just silently in each other's presence, before he moves his head from yours, just momentarily before giving you a light peck on your forehead.

"You should go to bed," He says softly as he steps back. His face morphs into a soft smile noticing the light confusion in your eyes as they search his.

"It's not that I don't want to," He says, bringing your hand up to his lips, giving a soft kiss to the back of it, "Trust me if I could you'd be on the bed right now and nobody would be seeing you until we have to go to the airport" he chuckles out as he wraps his arms around your waist again. "but you look like you could fall asleep standing up, and I'm not going to rush this."

You nod as your shoulders relax slightly at his response, an unknown wave of relief washing over you.

"You can still stay... if you want," You say softly as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

"Oh? Can't get enough of me already?" He says with a tilt of his head, "I don't know... You might jump my bones." His tone is playful as he quirks his eyebrow with that stupid smile on his face.

"Hmm... I guess I'll save that for another time." You say, returning his banter as you push off the wall and head further into the room.

Jake quickly makes himself at home, kicking off his shoes and lying starfish on your bed. You chuckled at him before throwing the TV remote at him, causing him to lift his head at you quizically.

"I'm showering," you answer the unspoken question on his face before turning around to grab your clothes.

He flops his head back on your bed "you sure you don't need help?"

"Don't get any ideas" you say slapping his leg as you walk past. You barely catch his yelp in reaction as you close the bathroom door.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

You step out of the bathroom, freshly showered in an oversized shirt and some sweatpants. Jake decided to make himself comfortable. His hoodie is shed and now lying on one of the chairs by your window as he sits against the headboard watching something on his phone while some random 2000's sitcom is playing softly on the TV at the foot of the bed.

When hears you exit the bathroom he turns off his phone and sets in on the nightstand and gets comfortable in the pillows patting the spot next to him.

"reserved VIP seating just for you, pretty girl" The smile on his face almost makes your knees buckle as you shuffle over to the empty side of the bed and lie down next to him.

He lazily wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you just slightly closer. You feel the warmth of his chest against your back as he nuzzles into the back of your neck, his breath tickling you as he inhales the scent of your freshly showered hair.

"tomorrow..." he starts softly "you're mine"

"Oh? And what if I made plans to go enjoy myself in this lovely city," you say playfully. Your hand reaches down to play with the rings on his fingers that were once holding your waist.

"Hmmm too bad"

You giggle softly and lean back into him as you close your eyes and relax into his hold. As you do so, you feel him relax against you, breath evening out as he mindlessly holds you just a bit tighter.

As you let much-needed sleep take over your brain, the conversation of what will happen when you inevitably blow off your friends tomorrow and what all of this means for the two of you leaves your brain. That's a problem for tomorrow's you. Tonight's you is contently snuggled up in Jake's embrace wondering what kinda voodoo shit she cast to end up in this position and what other kind of voodoo shit she can cast to make it last a little bit longer.

And when you wake up in the morning to Jake's pouty face trying as hard as he can (and succeeding) to keep you in bed for just 5 more minutes, you realize maybe you won't have to try too hard to keep him around.

authors note: sooooo what do we thiiiink? I reworked this like 20 times and i think I’m finally semi-satisfied with it so I hope you all enjoyed it!!

[harmonyrae]

Making a Change🌸

Synopsis: You’ve started to like things you’ve hated for over a decade. You don’t want to surprise your boyfriend. He has a certain aesthetic and you’re not sure he will be a fan… But he’ll prove, once again, that you should never doubt his love for you.

AN: This is incredibly self-indulgent and I just needed to write it down… I’m entering a new era and honestly I thought it’d be cute to imagine Sylus encouraging it. Also, I kinda need encouragement since I’m nervous. So, thanks Sylus! (Cover images from Pinterest)

Content Warnings: PURE FLUFF, Touchy Sylus, Sexually Suggestive, 18+ MDNI to be safe

Word Count: 1.2k 

“Sy…” 

You crack open the door to his office and peek inside. He’s leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. You spot his desk phone blinking, he’s on a call. You’re about to back out, but he notices you. Using his evol, the door opens wider. His eyes lock onto you and he beckons for you to come in. Pulling the sleeves of your hoodie down, you shuffle into the room. As you get closer you can hear the voices on the other end of the call.

“Mr. Sylus, we can have that shipment to you by the end of the day. I apologize for the delay, please, we did not expect this.”

The voice is strained, fearful, desperate. Someone fucked up. Sylus reaches for you and before you can protest, you’re straddling his lap. You almost lose your balance with how his chair is tipped back to keep his long legs propped up. His hands dip under your hoodie and you slap his chest, making him chuckle. He rubs your thighs, your hips, your waist, his fingers massaging and bringing you closer with every touch. You finally give up and rest your hands on his chest, giving him the same treatment as you pop open the buttons to his shirt.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood Viktor. Kieran will be expecting you. If you’re not there by midnight, I’ll be paying you a visit. And we won’t be playing poker.”

The man thanks Sylus profusely before Sylus looks past you, his finger twitching against your waist as he focuses his evol to hang up the phone. He tries to tug your hoodie up, but you stop him. He puts on the most pitiful pout and you pinch his cheek making him tighten his hold on you. He pulls you down and buries his face in your neck, kissing your sensitive skin over and over until you’re wiggling.

“Sy! I wanted to talk to you…”

He stops kissing you to set his chin on your shoulder, his hands still gently tracing shapes over the skin of your lower back. Your body relaxes against him and he sighs as you unwind. 

“Go on then kitten, I’m listening.”

You bite your lip and run your fingers along his arm. You’re not sure why you’re nervous to talk to him about this, you know he won’t care… Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked to anyone about this. Of course you’d talk to your boyfriend about it first. His opinion matters to you, it won’t change your mind, but you do want him to be informed on your life and the changes you want to make. It’s like Sylus can sense you’re overthinking, he squeezes your hips and kisses the shell of your ear. 

“Sweetie… what is it?”

“How do you feel about the color pink?”

Of all the things you could have said, he didn’t expect that. He couldn’t form a single sentence. His brain was trying its best, but he couldn’t decide if this was a genuine question or if there was a hidden meaning. You lean back and look down at him, his confusion evident. 

“I… I know you like dark colors and I like them too! Red and black, it’s very you. I guess I wanted to know… like… what do you think about other colors? Like pink?”

You fall forward against him as he kicks his legs down off the desk. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you to sit on the edge, his arms resting on your thighs. 

“I don’t dislike the color. I’m more curious why you’re asking.”

You fiddle with the cuffs of your hoodie, tugging the sleeves down over and over. Sylus takes your hands to stop your nervous habit. The way he looks up at you, earnest and eager to understand. You sigh and look away to look around the room. The dark decor, leather sofa, black marble floors, red accent pillows and artwork in obsidian frames. You still love it, but your tastes have changed, evolved.

“I’ve spent the past decade in black, well, not just black, but a lot of dark colors. I dyed my hair black as soon as I was allowed and it’s been my comfort color for as long as I can remember. But lately…”

You glance at Sylus, his expression unchanged, still listening with rapt attention. 

“I guess I’ve started to really like different things and different colors…”

“Like pink?”

You can hear his smile, you nod and keep your eyes downcast.

“I guess I spent so many years saying I hated pink and girly things, even though I was relatively girly as a kid… I don’t want to say it was a phase, I do really like the gothic style, I just… I find myself wanting to buy, you know, pink things. Girly things. I know I probably sound stupid, like I’m making a big deal out of going from 'a goth to a princess' when I can be both and I know that! I never expected myself to actually like a more feminine style but now–”

Sylus cuts you off with a kiss. It’s a patient kiss, gentle, with just enough force to calm you down. When he backs away you nearly slip off the desk chasing after him. He holds your hips to steady you. 

“Sweetie, I will love you no matter what your favorite color is. You know that right?”

“I know! Yes, I know that. I just didn’t want you to be surprised or I don’t know!”

“If you want to change your style, change it. It won’t change the kind of person you are. Just how you present yourself to the world. And as long as it makes you happy, that’s all that really matters. If being around and wearing frilly, lacy, girly pink things will make you smile, I will buy you everything pink.”

Your eyes water and your stomach flips, he really is your prince charming isn’t he? Just wrapped in a “most wanted criminal mob boss” package. And that makes it even hotter.

“So… you won’t hate it if I change those black roses to pink ones?” You point at the vase on the coffee table.

“Not at all.”

“Or… add a pink fuzzy blanket to our bed?”

“Please do.”

“What if I replace your robe so we can have matching pink ones?”

“I’ll wear it with pride.”

“So I could replace my entire wardrobe and you’d… like it?”

“Kitten, I’d give you my black card in a heartbeat.”

You giggle and hop off his desk to sit on his lap again. He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles against your shoulder.

“Will you come shopping with me then? Oh! And we can get manicures together!”

He looks up at you.

“Only if we go to my nail tech. She has an impressive portfolio.”

“YOU GET MANICURES?” You squeal.

“I have to keep my nails pristine for a certain kitten.” 

He trails his fingers along your inner thigh and you gasp. You grab his hand before he continues, your cheeks a bright shade of red.

“I can’t wait to see her work… I’ve been wanting to see what pretty pink nails would look like when my hand is wrapped around your cock.”

His eyes go wide and he huffs in surprise. Oh those cute, surprised boba eyes are your favorites. He seems to forget you match his freak. Every. Single. Time. Now, you’ll just match it while wearing the softest shade of pink.  💗🌸🎀🌸💗

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @klmpun @ariallaisawesome @spidy-spider01 @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @bubbleteakittyy @freddy-2002-blog @plsdonttakemyname @sylus-hunter

[mia-can-yap-too]

Cinderella

synopsis:- This is the story of Cinder-Isagi, or well, just Isagi because that name just didn't stick, and his princess who definitely needs supervision. Fantasy AU!

warnings:- fluff, crack, only partly proofread, sfw, ego is his own warning

a/n:- most of the stories will be in this format, where it isn't exactly in the readers POV and it isn't obvious to characters that the reader is not from that world.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a somewhat kind-hearted boy named Isagi Yoichi.

He was sweet, sometimes patient, and was exceptionally talented at throwing slurs at stubborn weeds.

Isagi doesn't remember where his parents are or what happened to them, just that they left him behind with three step-brothers. The first was Bartholomew, who believed that deodorant was a government scam. Then came Chadwick, who once tried to marry a goat for tax reasons. And Todd, who was...well, just Todd. No one really knew what Todd's deal was.

They made poor ol' Isagi cook, clean, braid Chadwick's back hair, and they even made him rearrange Todd's emotional support rock collection about twice a day. It was pure torture.

Isagi's only peace was his garden. He talked to the flowers. He named the bees. Once, he cried when a caterpillar turned into a butterfly. Total soft boy energy.

Meanwhile, you, the land's beloved and slightly eccentric princess, had a reputation for being uncontrollable, accidentally charming, and fairly good at climbing trees. Legend has it you had a bad habit of throwing yourself out of the palace gardens and escaping the royal grind.

The palace guards had given up trying to stop you from leaving. One once said that he didn't get paid enough for your bullshit.

You claimed it was for 'diplomacy', but really, you just liked bothering random townspeople and climbing random trees to be 'the highest in the room' because apparently you were 'on some Travis Scott shit'.

Which is kind of how you ended up in Isagi's tree.

Isagi was humming to himself, peacefully watering his petunias, when a branch snapped and a foot landed in his rose bush.

He shrieked, partly because he was startled, partly because his roses, goddammit!

"Hi!" You grinned, hanging upside down from the tree in a way that kind of impressed him.

"Oh wow! Are those marigolds? Are they magical or something?!"

"These are petunias, you uncultured [redacted]."

You didn't take any offense to it, instead opting to land on the ground with little to no grace.

"What are you doing in my garden?" asked the boy.

"Why are you in your garden?"

"...I live here??"

"Okay, fair."

You told him your name. He told you his. He also asked you to not steal his bees.

You kept coming back.

Once in a wheelbarrow. (Don't ask)

Once riding a goat named Kevin. (Please, don't ask)

Once disguised as a travelling wizard. ("I cast... vibes.")

Isagi would flinch everytime he saw movement in the bushes.

"Oh no, it's you again."

"Rude. I brought soup."

"That's seasoned hot water."

"I call it a 'uni struggle meal'."

You, being the oh so kindhearted princess you were, not that he knew, offered to help him with chores once. You made everything worse. He kindly asked you to never 'help' again.

But he laughed with you. A lot. And it takes a load of charisma to make bad jokes land, so that's kind of a big deal.

You made him feel as if maybe life wasn't all step-brothers and scrubbing.

You never told him you were royalty. Mostly because it was funnier that way. And also because chaos is romantic.

Once, Isagi and you were sitting in a field of wildflowers.

A peaceful silence had settled upon the two of you, along with the warm sunshine that made everything seem as if out of a fairytale, probably because you were in a fairytale.

"You know," you started, throwing pebbles at a tree, "if I wasn't the—uh— person that I am, I think I'd live in a cottage like this. Grow potatoes. Be mysterious. The whole thing."

"Potatoes are loud," Isagi said, trying to be deep. "They have opinions."

"...What?"

"...What?"

You looked at him. He looked at you.

Your fingers accidentally brushed. He blushed so hard he looked like a cute tomato.

"I should go," you said, tripping over a mushroom. "Not because I got flustered. Just. The wind told me to."

You left. Backflipped over a fence. Knocked over a rake. Classic exit.

Then came the Royal Moonlight Ball, with the dress code of 'whatever slaps'.

Everyone was invited to see who would win your hand in... something. No one was sure what. Not even you. There were rumors you would just spin around and point.

Isagi wanted to go so badly. Not because he wanted to win over the Princess or something. But because the invite said free snacks. And dancing seemed fun too. He would finally have the chance to hit the 'renegade'.

But Bartholomew, Chadwick, and Todd laughed at him. They said he wasn't cool enough.

Todd ate half of his invite, then Bartholomew burned it.

On the night of the ball, they locked him in the basement and went after ordering a medieval Uber.

Isagi sat in his room, looking every bit of melancholy-turned-human. He didn't cry, which is a lie. A tear did, admittedly, fall down his cheek.

But just as he was giving up, a flash of light and aggressive violin music filled the room.

A floating figure descended, covered in glitter and wearing a cloak made of spreadsheets.

"300 of you all—wait, wrong story." The figure cleared his throat.

"ISAGI YOICHI," the guy boomed, "YOU ARE NOW UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF ME, EGO JINPACHI, YOUR FAIRY GODSOMETHING."

"...Fairy Godmother?"

"I prefer 'Tactical Glam Wizard."

Anyways, after hearing the Isagi had no fits, Ego flicked his clipboard and conjured up a dark blue suit that slayed, embroidered with constellations and judgement.

He also conjured up a majestic carriage, which was pulled by four very musclar possums.

Lastly, he gave Isagi a pair of glass cleats with built-in padding and arch support.

"Be back by midnight or turn into a jellyfish," was the last thing Ego said before he disappeared.

You were standing on the top of the staircase, halfway through a croissant, when you saw him.

Sparkly. Blushy. Mildly terrified. Truly in his element.

You almost dropped you croissant.

You threw three nobles out of the way and ran to him.

"OH MY GOD, YOU MADE IT!"

Isagi panicked. "Hi. Hello. Wussup? Why do you look rich? Is this a trap?"

":)"

The two of you danced. Awkwardly.

You said he looked fine as hell. He blurted out that your sleeves looked flammable. It was perfect.

But then, midnight came.

He gasped. "SORRY BUT IM NOT A JELLYFISH KINDA GUY!" he shouted out as he bolted the fuck outta there.

He left behind a glass cleat.

You picked it up, dazed and in love.

"...Damn."

The next morning, you announced a kingdom-wide cleat tour. Anyone who fit the shoe would marry you. Or get free snacks. You were open to negotiation.

While, yes, you did remember his name and his face, not to mention you knew where he lived, you had to make sure you let everyone try the shoe, to stay true to the original story.

Finally, after a full day of stenching feet, you arrived at Isagi's house.

Bartholomew tried it on his hand.

Chadwick got the wrong idea and put it on Todd.

Todd just screamed.

Then came Isagi.

Obviously, the glass cleat fit.

You grinned.

"Wanna move into my castle and grow emotionally with me?"

"I— you know what? Hell yeah."

"Yay!"

You still climb trees. He still screams.

You're in love. It's weird. It's wonderful.

And they all lived crackily ever after.

The End.

taglist:- @jeonwiixard @lizbix @alexisjusthere @saeyari @pinkymangacaps @sleepy-waffle @rayne-rayne-go-away @fromsaltandsea @kaikaidenkai @l0v3ly-st4rs @annawrites444 @byzantiumhollow

Once Upon A Prince – Masterlist

[orimuraa]

• My lips don’t lie - 西村 力 ↳ ┊: lips - ive

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆starting your new job wasn’t easy whatsoever, however, there was one person who made it so much worse…or better? ⨾

۶ৎ choreographer!ni-ki x fem makeup artist!reader┆fluff, angst, crack┆slight age gap? (2 years), enemies to lovers, ni-ki tries to be nonchalant about his feelings┆teasing, petnames, reader has a panic attack, kissing, crying┆wc 2.4k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: thank you to the anon who requested! i hope it’s okay >//<

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

you got insanely lucky for your first real job. you had secured a spot on the styling team of a k-pop group at the age of 18. it paid pretty good and it wasn’t something you would ever get bored of.

traveling the world, doing makeup and hair, it was all you could ever ask for.

the only bad thing about this job was a singular co-worker. nishimura riki.

he was a dancer from japan and he had been hired a couple years before you to be the choreographer for the group.

for some reason, this man could not stand you. you had no idea what you did to deserve his snarly remarks or his relentless teasing, but it happened. maybe it was because you were new and an easy target for picking on. or maybe it was because he was just a jerk.

“i don’t know what i did,” you whine to your fellow makeup artist, jiyeon. you had come to befriend all of the makeup artist team and you had all gotten very close, many if them treating you like their baby.

“it’s so weird! he was never like this with anyone else?” jiyeon ponders, scrunching her eyebrows.

you continued cleaning your makeup brushes while just thinking to yourself, letting the conversation of your co-workers blend into the background.

“hey! you’re gonna ruin those brushes, aren’t you?” him. his obnoxiously deep voice that never failed to send shivers down your spine.

turning around, you’re met with a 6 foot giant, smirking down at you as he tell you how to do your job. ridiculous!

“no, i’m not,” you bite back, losing your patience with him. you let out a sigh, setting down the brushes and trying to control yourself.

“woahh, chill, i’m just trynna help,” he laughs, putting his hands up in surrender. to be quite honest, ni-ki had no idea why he treated you like this either.

the first day you walked in, clad in your little white dress over your patched jeans, your hair styled too perfectly, and a smile too pretty adorning your lips. he didn’t like the way it made his heart race. he didn’t like the way it made him smile.

so, for some reason, he resulted in pushing you out, not letting you get too close. he was scared of letting his guard down around people. he was scared because of the past.

even still, every time he steps a little too close to you, his breath will hitch slightly and his heart starts to beat a little too fast.

your eyes said it all. you were pissed and you were not putting up with his behavior right now.

“ni-ki, i am trying to do my job and it’d be very nice for you to just leave me alone right now,” you grit through your teeth.

“alright alright, i’m leaving princess,” he chuckles lowly.

“don’t call me that!” you snarl, your patience hanging on for dear life. but ni-ki just smirks once again before leaving the room.

“oh my gosh he totally likes you,” yusu, another co-worker, gasps.

“yusu!!! don’t encourage it! besides, he literally hates my guts! i haven’t done anything wrong to him and he treats me like this!” you whine, pouting at the pink haired girl.

she just laughs and pats your head, saying: “you’ll be fine!! he’ll most likely come around eventually!”

you roll your eyes at that. like that would ever happen.

~~

a big comeback was coming up for the group, meaning that lots of preparations needed to be made.

unfortunately, you didn’t expect this much stress as it was a full album instead of a mini album—which was what you were used to.

“y/n ssi! i’m going to put you in charge of all the eye makeup for filming today, okay? i want them to look similar and you’re the best at it!” the director smiles, making you feel both proud and anxious.

not even seconds later, another directer ran up to you: “oh! y/n ssi! can you please do the hair styles for the members? i know you’re pretty good at that and i think this concept is your strong suit,” she asked, rushing away before you could even agree.

great. now you had eye makeup and hairstyles for all the members. totally manageable.

there was quite a bit of chaos in the prep room. the members were quietly chatting with each other, some filming some behind the scenes, some practicing the dance, and some locking in to get ready for filming.

you kinda lost track of what was going on as you started to feel your head spin a bit, losing a bit of your balance.

“oh- y/n? are you alright? do you need to sit down?” one of the members asked you, concern written all over his face. these boys were always so sweet and they always cared for their staff, making you appreciate them even more.

but right now, it was hard to even focus as there was a searing pain that hit your head. suddenly, the room started to feel a bit too crowded, spots appearing in your vision and your breathing becoming a bit too labored.

“sit her down!”

“no! get her out! she needs air!”

there was a bunch of shouting around you and you weren’t sure who was talking anymore. that was until a voice caught your attention.

“y/n? hey? you here? look at me, yeah?” his voice. the deep concern his voice echoed as he tried to speak as softly as possible to you.

you looked at the boy, eyes staring straight into his. since when were nishimura riki’s eyes so pretty? and since when did he have that mole under his eye?

“hey! there you are, let’s get you outside okay?” he smiles softly. he laces his hands with yours and gently pulls you up, securing you as you stumbled a bit.

you didn’t notice the way the members were smiling at you, glad that their choreographer knew how to take care of you.

once you made it outside, you took a deep breath before collapsing into ni-ki’s embrace.

“thank you,” you mumble softly, enjoying his comfort. you never thought he would be this kind to you, and it kinda caught you off guard. but you had desperately needed a hug and he was inviting you to take it.

“it’s the least i could do,” he replies, his voice calming your nerves. he gave you a couple minuted of silence to collect yourself, assuming you probably had a panic attack.

“stress?” was all he asked, his eyes still staring at the cars passing by. you look at him, tilting you head slightly.

“yeah i guess so…just…overwhelming. i guess i’m not used to it just yet,” you try to laugh it off.

“hey? it’s okay to be overwhelmed, okay? this job is stressful and you’re handling it amazingly. you got this,” he reassured, looking you in the eye.

you were a but stunned by his words as this was the first time he had ever been so nice to you.

“thanks ni-ki…that meant a lot,” you smile back, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“anytime,” he replies, standing up and signaling to go back inside. “i’ll let them know you can’t do it all without some help. you shouldn’t be doing all this as the newest addition to the team.”

and maybe it made your heart flutter. and maybe it made you hate nishimura riki a little less.

~~

that’s what was so weird. he wasn’t mean anymore, he was nice. you didn’t even think that was in his vocabulary for goodness sake’s! he started bringing you coffee the next morning, knowing you were up at an ungodly hour just to start preparing the boys for mv shooting.

he stopped bugging you about not doing your job correctly and started admiring the way you worked instead. you weren’t sure if you liked it, or it freaked you out because maybe ni-ki was replaced by an alien.

“how come you’ve been so nice lately? i didn’t know you had it in you,” you laugh, nudging ni-ki’s shoulder one break.

“yah! i can be nice! i just…needed to warm up i guess,” he muttered, rubbing the bag of his neck and looking away so you didn’t see the blush that coated his cheeks.

“uh huh…sureee,” you snort, taking a bite of your lunch. “whatever, i like you better like this.”

“you..you like me?” ni-ki coughed, his eyebrows furrowed.

“y-yeah! you actually seem to be a pretty decent co-worker,” you cover up, not sure if you were ready to confess your full feelings.

you weren’t sure why that made your heart sink and ni-ki didn’t either.

“right. co-workers,” he nodded, though his tone didn’t match his eyes. you both sat there in an awkward silence before ni-ki cleared his throat, excusing himself and saying he had to run over the choreo with some of the members again.

you were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear yusu walk in and sit herself down next to you.

“soo…are you falling?” she asks, her tone skeptical.

“i don’t even know,” you sigh. “i think i like him but do you think he likes me?” you pout, everything feeling so complicated.

“ynnie, he’s so in love with you. he always has these little heart eyes when you walk in and he’s so sweet to you now! i think he’s just unsure about how to handle his feelings. he had a nasty breakup a couple years back and it was awful..his choreo was sloppy and he was horrible at teaching at that time. it was bad…” yusu recalls, touching a finger to her chin as she thought.

“well that just means he’s not ready, right?” you sigh for the millionth time.

“no! what it means is that you make him feel different and he’s scared that he’s gonna get broken again and doesn’t know how to approach his feelings!” yusu exclaims, not enjoying your obliviousness.

oh.

“so what am i supposed to do??” you whine, ready to go dig a hole and cry in it.

“you slowly get him to trust you—which i think he already does. but he needs to open up and let you in,” she smiles, packing up her stuff for the day.

so now you had to gain ni-ki’s trust. got it..

~~

things were bad..you were struggling with your bills and you were on the verge of losing it. not to mention, ni-ki had been super cold to you these past few days, making things even more unpleasant.

he would ignore you in the hallways and barely look at you when you were in the same room.

he was back to his teasing—except this time it came in forms of harsh criticism.

“y/n can you work faster? the boys need to be on stage in 5!” he scoffed, venom laced in his voice. you had no idea what you had done to make him cold again but you hated it.

maybe he found out that you liked him and now he hates you for it? or maybe he realized you’re just really unpleasant to be around and now hates you.

one day, you were at music bank super early to get the boys ready for their comeback special. your taxes were filing in and it was hard to keep track of it all. your mom had needed a bunch of money to stay in her assisted living care and it was really eating at your salary.

and today was the icing on the cake.

“y/n! they need the makeup done in 3! jesus, what are you even doing?!” he snapped, making many of the staff and members uncomfortable, including you.

you felt everything crash down and all of your problems come flooding out. tears pricked at your eyes but you wouldn’t cry. not in front of him.

“excuse me,” you managed to squeak out before running out of the room.

you found an empty green room and quickly shuffled into it. you sat on the couch, head in your hands and tears rolling down your nose, cheeks, and chin.

everything was going wrong and the world hated you. at some point, your muffled cries made their ways out of your hand and soon echoed in the room.

a shuffle at the door made you whip up to see who was there, instinctively wiping your eyes to attempt the tears to stop.

there, stood ni-ki in the door frame, a different look adorning his face. something mixed either concern and regret.

“what do you want?” you sniffle, wiping your nose.

ni-ki locks eyes with you before letting out a sigh and walking over to the sofa you were on.

“i’m sorry…i don’t know why i’ve been so cruel to you these past few days..i think i got scared because i felt something a little too real and i got scared..i didn’t want it to end up like last time,” he said, looking you straight in the eye. “i guess i thought that if i pushed you out, the feelings would stop.”

“ni-ki…i want you to know that i still like you even after all this..i would wait as ling as it takes for you to recover just so i could be with you. that past week made me realize that i really like you and you make me happy—like, really happy,” you mumble the last part, your cheeks flushing red.

“i had a horrible breakup a couple years ago and i guess it just made me scared to feel things..i just didn’t want to be hurt anymore,” ni-ki says. “but i want to try with you. i feel like i can be myself around you and i would do anything to make up for my awful behavior.”

suddenly, the room felt like it was just you two in the space and nothing else. ni-ki’s hand found your waist while the other one cupped your cheek gently.

“can i kiss you?” he whispered. you nod and that’s all he needs to lean in.

his lips fit perfectly against yours and it feels like the final piece of a puzzle.

the kiss is soft yet passionate, tender with his apology.

when you pull away, his eyes are twinkling and you suddenly feel the butterflies again. you lean your forehead against his and stay like that for a bit.

“let me be yours,” ni-ki says against your lips, his own brushing against yours as he spoke.

“i’d like that. very much so,” you giggle, closing the gap with another kiss.

yeah, maybe it was a cliché office enemies to lovers, but it gave you a happy ending, making it all okay.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @cheruphic, @woniefication, @melodiessvy, @soona-huh, @kiwicup, @yuuuraaa

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: haku tells you a bedtime story that's a bit too familiar.

COMMENTS: this is a late birthday fic for @sunstirred :3 thank u for being such a lovely bright presence in the tkdb fandom!! i really hope you like this because. im worried i got too philosophical or something T0T PLEASE im so sorry im going to dig a hole and hide in it now im so worried it's horrible . WE BALL

Haku finds himself wondering if normalcy with you by his side could be possible.

Sure, he calls you princess, takes you on dates, and does all of the normal things a boyfriend would do. And maybe that should be enough to satisfy him—but it isn’t. The thought of your curse and his future hang above his head all the time, and even when he forgets in the midst of bliss it always bites him in the ass eventually. It’s selfish to keep you here.

“Haku,” you breathe, looking so soft under the bedsheets, all wrapped up in his bed, curled up next to him and no one else, “Tell me a bedtime story?”

He exhales sharply, a small smile spreading across his lips.

“Princess, you’ve made fun of me for my acting before—”

“C’mon, please?” you whine, shuffling even closer to him.

The sheets are cool against his skin, but with your body heat, he feels unimaginably warm. Is this love? It certainly feels like it.

“Once upon a time...there was a flower,” Haku begins.

He can tell you’re quite satisfied with the results of your pleading as you get comfortable. Your legs wrap around his and he sighs, tightening the grip he has on your waist.

“This flower was loved dearly by the wind,” he continues, “But the flower didn’t know just how badly the wind wanted to keep it.”

You’re nodding along. Haku’s hand slides up your waist and trails up your back.

“The wind blew harder, trying to get the flower to join it. The wind had so much freedom, but only because it fought hard to keep its freedom,” Haku murmurs, “The wind wanted nothing more than to have a life with the flower. It thought, if I can take this flower with me, I can finally know what it means to live as myself.”

You’re frowning. Maybe this story was a bit too sad, but now that he started he can’t just stop. And so, he takes another deep breath before continuing.

“The flower couldn’t be swept away by the wind, otherwise, it would die. The flower made its roots stronger, digging into the ground to escape the wind. It pleaded with the flower to let go, to be free with it, but the flower knew it couldn’t. She was more grounded than the wind.”

Whoops, slip of the tongue. Haku laughs to himself, and hopes you’d just brush it off.

A simple bedtime story shouldn’t make him feel so awful.

“And so, the wind howled and howled and howled, until one day. It stopped. The flower was able to withstand the most horrific of disasters because of how it dealt with the wind. It was able to survive, year after year, all while the gentle breeze kept watch.” Haku presses a single kiss to your forehead, “I think the wind realized that the flower had a different definition of freedom because it lead a different life.”

“The wind and the flower just need to coexist... you've spent too much time with Zenji,” you tease, but furrow your brow, “Haku...this sounds an awful lot like a metaphor for how humans and ghouls can’t—”

He kisses you. You grunt against his lips before laughing, leaning into his touch. He knows you don’t care about any of that—sharp, clever you—but he can’t help himself from wanting to keep you right here.

You belong here, by his side. And even if he isn’t the guy you fell in love with one day, he knows you’ll still love him all the same.

You’re his hope. Haku knows, deep down, an undeniable truth, that he would do anything—anything at all—to make sure your future was forever safe and protected.

At the end of it all, Haku just wants to be your future, simply as the man who loves you.

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

I NEED someone to make a fic of Jason having the most RANDOM side quests in all the world. LIKE. Bruce needs Jason for smth but Jason is having the time os his life in Alexandria's library. THAT PLACE BURNED DOWN. Dick tries to reach him but he's in the Gardens of Babylon.

LOLOL Jason would 100% go on side quests. No warning, he just packs up and leaves.

They bats don't actually notice he's gone until they need him for something. It's not like Jason regularly visits, and they don't visit him, so it's always a gamble of whether or not he's actually still in town.

Jason never fills out his case files. He thinks it's boring, and you'll have to basically hold him at crowbar-point if you want him to do them. Bruce calls him so he can fill that shit out.

Jason just says "Can't." Bruce huffs at the dry response- typical. He's dealing with 3 dry response kids at the moment, and he's over it. He asks "Why not?"

Jason says "At the library." Now, Bruce knows Jason's love of literature. That's not big deal. But the library is only a 5 minute drive from the manor, maybe 7 minutes at most.

Bruce tells him to just walk over with whatever book he checked out. Jason just says "Not that library. Alexandria's." He hangs up.

Bruce has questions. They do not get answered.

Barbara at one point is asked to track him down, and she does a double take when she sees that Jason is almost 13,000 feet deep in the North Atlantic Ocean. When asked about it later, he says he was trying to find artifacts from the Titanic that possibly weren't found yet. He wanted some new room decor.

They don't hear from him often, but they do stumble across a selfie he took sitting up on the Egyptian Pyramids that he printed out for Roy. It just appeared one day in his wallet. Dick tries to ask when it was taken and where he is now, but Roy just stares at him until he leaves. He's been sworn to secrecy.

[secretlysamcro]

#till it’s gone #question

Do you think Jax would have allowed and if so liked to get naughty pictures and videos from reader?

This thing you've got going with Jax, its deeper than you ever meant it to be. What started off as lust and secrecy has turned into something messier. Something heavier. You'd never say it out loud, not yet. And definetley not to him. But in your heart, you know the truth. On your side, this isn't just an affair anymore. This is...love.

It's been almost a year since you first met Jax at the diner. Almost a year since he had you pinned up against that dirty wall, fucking you so good it rewired something inside you.

You knew it was wrong, even then. He's got a wife, two boys, a whole life that doesn't belong to you, has no fucking room for you. But that didn't stop you, and it still doesn't. There's something about him, raw, dangerous and addictive that keeps pulling you back. No matter how much you tell yourself to walk away, to stop these secret little meetings, but you cant. Because all you crave is more. More of his hands. More of his voice. More of that fucked up, all consuming high that only he can give you. Not even just the sexual parts, the deep emotional parts that he lets you see, lets you in on.

You hated this part.

The waiting, the silence. The pretending you didn't care that he hadn't messaged you all day. That he could go hours, sometimes longer without acknowledging you, without checking in.

So you drank.

Not to forget him, not really. Just enough to dull the edge. Enough to stop wondering if he thought about you when he laid down next to her at night. Maybe it was the third drink that made you do it, or maybe it was the loneliness. But either way, you stopped over thinking.

You slipped your tee off, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. You keep the main light in your bedroom off, but the soft glow of your fairy lights stay on, casting just enough warmth across your skin.

You crawl onto your bed slowly, facing the mirror. You knew exactly how he liked you. On your knees, back arched deep, ass high like you were begging without saying a word. So that's exactly how you posed. One hand steadying yourself against the sheets, the other lifting your phone, getting the perfect angle.

You took the photo, no filter, no caption sent with it. Deep down, you knew it wasn't just for him. It was for you too. A quiet, dangerous 'fuck you' in the form of a nude, no words needed.

Because if he was going to ignore you all day, you'd give him something he couldn't ignore.

[Text thread y/n & Jax - Friday 21:34PM]

JAX: What the fuck are you doing You sent that and she's in the fucking room My phone lit up right in front of her ?

JAX: One second different and this whole thing would've been over

Y/N: kinda the point jax maybe if u fuckin remembered I existed I wouldn't have to do stupid shit

JAX: Dont do this you think this is how you get my attention think ur being smart?

Y/N: Dnt care im drunk and tired and sick of being ur fuckin secret

JAX: You need to shut your mouth before u say something you can't take back

Y/N: You gonna make me u

Y/N: u think im scared of you

JAX: what the fuck is wrong with you?

Y/N: u :)

JAX: Keep talkin like that You think this is all about u like I’m not hanging on by a fucking thread tryna keep this shit together ?

Y/N: no I think u go home to ur wife and kids and I sit here like a fuckin idiot thinking shit will change lol

JAX: I’m doing everything to keep this from blowin up. Protecting myself and you And this is what ur doing? textin me cause ur drunk and feel ignored ?

Y/N: I don’t need protecting what am I? a child??? I wanted u to give a fuck for once

JAX: ur fucking impossible y/n You knew what this was before it even started u don’t get to act like the victim now

Y/N: victim lmaoo r u fucking joking?

JAX: y/n do you not get that Tara could have seen that pic

Y/N: And???? you don’t give a fuck when ur cocks in me what’s the difference U didn’t even say if you liked it? Did I make you hard??

JAX: Im not doing this over text Meet me at the lot 30 mins

Y/N: no lol Too drunk to drive

JAX: I’ve got the van I’ll come get u

Y/N: No just come here and we can talk

JAX: Nah Dont wanna come inside

Y/N: Lmao heard that one before

JAX: Just be fucking ready when I pull up Leavin in 10

He deletes the entire thread. Every word. Every picture. Wipes it clean like it never happened. Like he didn’t just blow up on you for almost exposing every fucking thing.

He walks down the hallway, grabbing his kutte from the hook and slides it back on, snatching the van keys without hesitation.

“Where are you going?” Tara’s voice cuts through the quiet as she pokes her head out of the boys room, eyebrows creased.

“Club shit. Important” he says, so fucking cold. No pause, no eye contact. Just lies through his fucking teeth, already halfway out the door before she can ask anything else.

The whole drive to your place he’s pacing in his own head. Trying to figure out what the fuck he’s even doing, what he should say to you, what he shouldn’t. He knows this whole thing is wrong, every single part of it is absolutely fucked.

But these feelings he’s grown for you?

These deep, unshakeable feelings that dig under his skin?

They feel dangerously right.

And when you finally walk out of your apartment, slower than usual, your body still buzzing with alcohol but your eyes all fury. He doesn’t know what the fuck to say.

You climb into the passenger seat without saying a word. He drives, silent, tense. Every second dragging.

He pulls into the usual underground lot then cuts the engine. The silence hangs between you for a breath, until you speak up first.

“You ever gonna leave her?”

Till it’s gone pt 1 starts right here.

[lilactwilights]

a heathen clung to piety (a priest!gojo x reader fic)

series masterlist

summary: everything about satoru gojo is pristine. from his charming looks, to his unblemished family name and his exemplary priesthood. because of that, attraction is nothing more than fuel for what you assume is a one-sided fantasy, a carefully kept secret you are content to keep deep within. but when you end up in his bed, the vows he broke end up cracking the surface of his immaculate facade and bringing forward the painful memories and the cruel truth of a tragedy all too familiar.

or, you find out the angel named Satoru Gojo may have fallen a long time ago, and that you might end up falling with him too.

chapter summary: with satoru’s return, a new arrival at the city and winter prevailing, you are forced to confront all you have been trying to run away from.

word count: 10k

Hello there! ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ≼Thank you for your interest in reading! This was in my drafts for some time and in my mind for considerably longer. I have thought about Gojo a lot. And Priest Satoru Gojo spawned after playing with his canon counterpart like a Barbie, witnessing the talent of fandom creators and exploring a bit of my catholic memories. Let it be known that, funny enough, I have never experienced attraction towards a real-life priest and I don't think that day will come. Nonetheless, there's something about Gojo that has made his lil priest self my favorite plaything and that´s why I promised myself that, if I ever posted a fic again, I wanted him to do the honors. Excited to say that the day has finally come.I won't say much more here other than be mindful of the tags here, I will be updating them accordingly and letting you know if there is any specific thing you should keep an eye out for in the upcoming chapters.English is not my first language and I'm more than a bit rusty so it's a bit nerve-wrecking to put this out there /ᐠ ╥ ˕ ╥マ. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡ (Might edit this chapter a bit in the near future)I'm new to tumblr so I apologize if the formatting looks a bit wonky, I´m still working on it, this is a reupload so if you have seen this before, yeah it was me :p

You don’t like winter.

It brings cold and sickness and painful memories with it. For you, the best part of it are the droplets of melting ice announcing its imminent departure and the first sightings of green peeking through the remnants of snow. Trees are still skinny and mostly naked, branches trembling at the wind, bending under the weight of the last snowfall but, between the leisure movement of a heavy cloud and the other, the sun has started to reach out with its lukewarm rays. 

As you stand on the platform, you claim the only spot touched by the sun, though it does little to alleviate the stubborn reminder of a winter you would chase away if you could. The wind remains almost freezing cold, it makes you shiver and shut your eyes tight every time it slaps you in the face, every hit of air chafing your skin. 

You mourn the scarf you left hanging at the rack back home. You were already two streets away when you realized you had forgotten it and you were quick to dismiss it in favor of catching the train on time. 

Now you are here, with no scarf, a freezing frame and a train running late, because, of course, only Satoru Gojo would manage to be late even by train. 

In fact, if a person could be blamed for making a train run late, it would probably be Gojo, somehow. Last time you took a train together, a few months back, you almost missed it because of him. He doesn’t have anyone to nag at him this time, so you can only hope he boarded on time, like he always seems to barely do.

This town needs an actual train station, you think, as you nuzzle further into your winter coat. There’s a little lobby next to the platform that is “closed for remodeling” because the administration had to choose the worst time of the year to modernize the cozy little lounge.  The platform you are currently shivering on was renewed by the Gojo Family almost two years ago, upon the arrival of their heir. The outline and build of the little ticket booth attached to the side of the station is reminiscent of the village props you saw at The Nutcracker the winter before. It’s too fancy for such a little spot outside of a small town like yours, too opulent for a place that’s not used as much anymore, but it’s a nice view you appreciate. However, all the cutesy and intricate carving does next to nothing to shield you from the cold. You heard the Mayor refused the Gojos’ offer to donate a proper train station and you can’t help but resent him too. After all, his pride is costing you your body temperature.

You nuzzle further into your clothes, pressing yourself against the column at another hit of wind. When you first arrived, the nice lady at the booth had offered you a place inside while you waited, but the space was already cramped enough with just one person in it, so you had to politely decline. It might have been a good decision considering she is currently nursing a cigar and likely emitting more fumes than the train you are waiting for. Right now, you can barely see her silhouette through the window with all the smoke condensed into the little booth. You have the itch to tap on the glass to see if she hasn’t passed out. Maybe if she is still conscious you can walk back your decision and ask for a little place in there with only your nice perfume and healthy lungs to pay the price. 

As you take a hesitant step towards the impromptu smokehouse, your attention is caught by a distant whistle, the telltale sound of a locomotive approaching. You perk up, waddling further into the platform to take a look as the sound of the machine gets louder. Indeed, the outline of the wine red train greets you between smog and frosty wind and you sigh, retreating once more to your waiting place.  

“About time,” you huff. 

Satoru left two weeks ago for a series of meetings with some higher ups from the Church. He called you every other day, mostly to nag or entertain himself. 

You don’t ask too much about what goes in there nor does he go into detail, he only ever talks about them to complain. Sometimes you think he has caught on to how much you truly dislike most of them and you are the only person he can sincerely unload his grievances with. 

As expected, only Satoru is getting off in this station. Your eyes meet through the window as he stands in the door waiting for it to open. His eyes widen for a second but crinkle immediately after as he smiles, all perfect teeth, mouthing something you can’t quite understand. You wave at him with a smile, cheeks feeling suddenly warm despite the cold. 

You point at your wrist while you lift a brow but it’s hard to keep the stern expression when the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach makes you nauseous. 

You step back as the doors open and stand there, changing your weight from one foot to the other as he gets off, sturdy suitcase in hand. He doesn’t even take two steps into the platform before he leaves his luggage on the floor, gaze fixed on you. Someone that appears to be a young train worker, judging by the uniform, is trailing behind him with a bunch of boxes that Satoru ends up maneuvering in one hand after he places the suitcase on the floor.

Before the young boy can say something else, Satoru shoves one of the little boxes in his hands with a loud thank you. The boy blinks and bows his head awkwardly, a low expression of confused gratefulness escaping his lips as he retreats. You lift a brow at the display, your own confusion tampering with your smile but Satoru, as always, just returns it wholeheartedly, balancing the boxes on top of his luggage.

“I asked if you missed me,” he says in lieu of a greeting as he straightens up, bright blue eyes regarding you from above. 

The color in his gaze somewhat softens thanks to all the white and the gray around. That’s probably how the blue of the seas in the frozen lands far away look like. He is all pale colors, a striking contrast to his black jacket and dark blue scarf and his pink lips. He rarely flushes, but there’s a pleasant blush in his chiseled cheeks from the warmth that hasn’t died down under the harsh wind. He speaks again. And you see the way his lips curl. They look soft and plump as they dance and mold to the words that your cottoned ears can’t quite catch: “…missed”

“I asked if you missed me”

“Huh?” is your elaborate reply.

Satoru’s grin evolves into a chuckle. It’s a pleasant sound that you indeed have missed . Other days, when he directs that sound towards you, you find the sound irritating enough to pretend it doesn’t cave a pit in your stomach. Not today. 

Today he extends his arms, his wide form taking up the space with his broad back and his long limbs. You don’t think twice before sinking into him. You have missed him too much for your own good, you resolve, as he squeezes you so tight it steals a breathless huff of a laugh from you. 

“Get off…”

Satoru chuckles too, a rumbling sound vibrating against your smothered cheek. His hands don’t go lower than your back, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you through your clothes projects all over your body.

“Not before you answer,” he adds, against your temple. 

“What?”

“If you miss me”

You gulp. It’s only the two of you between the cold and the fog on the platform. “I didn’t hear you say that at all.”

“But I did,” he retorts, leaning back just enough so your eyes meet, “And you still haven’t answered.” 

He smells like warmth and caramel. He probably ate sweets onboard and the smell of it swirls along his fresh cologne. Not unpleasant, but sure overwhelming when it’s paired with those intense eyes looking at you. 

“So?”

“I didn’t,” you answer. Way too quickly, way before your heart and your brain realize you are lying and make you stutter as punishment. 

Satoru smiles lazily, letting you go with a languid movement that has his fingertips sliding off your waist. He tugs at one of the strands of hair hanging at the side of your face instead. 

“That’s a shame,” he laments, sighing, puncturing each word with a twirl of his fingers, the start of a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Because I did”

“It’s been two weeks,” you huff, gently pushing his hand away in a lighthearted gesture. You don’t mind his touch at all. Or, you didn't mind it. You are now bothered by the appalling urges born in your core and traveling to your every limp. 

“And? That’s more than enough to me,” he switches the grip of his hand to grasp at yours and give it a squeeze. “Believe it or not, I prefer your pretty face over the nagging of our dear church authorities” 

“I’m touched,” you deadpan, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself. 

Satoru hums. “I am too, considering I wasn’t expecting a welcome back committee”

Your lips part, brows furrowing. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to come!?”

“That was before I realized our lovely weather could turn you into an icicle,” he says, eyes scanning you intently. He takes a few steps forward and places both his hands in your cheeks. You feel yourself stiff. “Although the flush of your face is rather pleasant to look at, there’s no reason for you to stand here and freeze for little ole’ me”

Your frozen hands try to peel away his wrists on instinct. Satoru is touchy, probably more touchy than a priest should be, but he is also more nonchalant than the average gentleman is so you can’t say you aren’t used to it. 

It’s the mortifying somersault your stomach does and the warmth that bleeds from your chest to your lower belly like molten what you are not used to. He is not even touching you directly, the fabric of his gloves is less soft than his hands, but it’s warm and kind in comparison to the wind. Nonetheless, the sole implication of him touching you so casually is enough to make you short of breath. 

For a few seconds that stretch incredibly long, Satoru rubs your cheeks intently, as if trying to coax the warmth of your blood to bleed into your skin. There’s something in his eyes as a slow, cheeky curve takes place on his lips. You forget the flustered feeling for a moment, but your body stays locked on it, a prickling sensation climbing up your neck as you frown up at him, tugging at his wrists. 

“Father?” 

Satoru’s well trained to react the exact opposite way to your flustered, hurried flurry. As you jump, he waltzes back in calculated steps, casually sliding his hands down to your shoulders, squeezing them only slightly before taking his hands off you for good. By the time his hands are by his sides, yours are still fidgeting about, tugging at your winter coat. 

You turn your face towards the familiar voice and force down the lingering feeling of self-consciousness, sketching a smile that lacks the blinding brightness of the dishonest one Satoru offers to the clueless newcomer. 

���Ah, Ijichi, you are finally here!” he announces, eyes crinkling. The cherry on top is, of course, the thunderous clap that accompanies his words. “I started to think you had forgotten about me”

You have known him for almost two years, so you can catch it. The way his smile curves and hardens before it stretches all the way. He seems slightly bothered about something you can only theorize about.

“N-not at all!” Kyotaka bows his head, face a bit flushed because of the cold or because his eyes are also trained in Satoru’s micro-expressions. “Welcome back, Father” 

You think you have imagined it, though, because Satoru’s expression is back to his relaxed, jovial façade. Or maybe it never really changed. You try not to stare too long or think about his face too hard lately. 

“C’mon Ijichi!” he protests, “I’m not wearing the habit right now! We can be a bit flexible” 

Ijichi is not deterred, sharing a look with you as a resigned, little smile grazes his lips. He is one of the very few people that has fallen victim to Satoru’s overly familiarity and, just like most, he is not playing along. That always makes you consider if you should also be more mindful of the difference in your positions, but Satoru’s arm casually slinging around your shoulders chases any further reflection away.

Ijichi is abruptly intercepted by one of Satoru’s arms as well when he steps closer to retrieve some of the boxes laying over Gojo’s luggage and you can see the way his shoulders fall in a reluctant acceptance. His glasses are crooked now by the unexpected motion but he makes no effort in shrugging Gojo as the latter pats his back energetically. You share a look once more.

“I-ji-chi! Guess who was freezing on this platform, waiting for me?” Satoru asks, squeezing his hold on you as he rhythmically pats Ijichi’s frame. “Certainly not you!”

At that, Ijichi’s resigned face tenses back to his default expression, a mix of mortification and surprise in his widened eyes. 

“I a-apologize, I wasn’t aware you were coming here as well! I would have offered you a lift!” 

“Oh, see? You are so formal with me but you call her by her name!”

You both ignore Satoru as you shrug his arm off your shoulders, offering Ijichi an appeasing smile, lifting a hand in a dismissive gesture. 

“Don’t worry about it, I didn’t know you were picking him up either,” you reply earnestly, brushing your hair out of your face as you start to walk, “I think it’s his fault”

As Kyotaka takes the boxes Satoru brought with him, he regards you with a look that seems suspiciously close to a silent agreement. Once again, both of you ignore Gojo’s whines, moving along the platform until he desists on his protests and easily falls into step with you, suitcase in tow. 

“I’m glad Ijichi and you have found friendship, but I don’t appreciate you bonding over disregarding me” is what he says,  with a suffering sigh that evolves into a little smile when you eye him up. 

“I’m sure making everything about you is a sin” you comment lightheartedly and Satoru rolls his eyes. “For your information, Kyotaka and I have been friends for a while and agreeing on your obnoxiousness is not the reason our friendship begun”

“But your blatant animosity is what makes it thrive,” Satoru points out, with an accusing finger. “It’s the same thing with Sister Uta–”

“Is your nagging my reward for picking you up at the train station?” you inquire. “I should have stayed warm and cozy at home”

“You waited for me. If we want to get technical, my dear sister, Ijichi is the one picking me up.”

He watches the beginning of an indignant protest in your face, to which he walks back his teasing statement and raises a calming hand. “Both of which I deeply appreciate,” he adds, and there’s a softness in his honest smile that mellows you down enough, until he pokes at you once more. “A good Christian doesn’t expect anything in return for a good deed, anyway” he chirps. “God shall provide” 

“Good thing I’m not a Christian then,” you retort and Satoru huffs a laugh, shutting it too quickly in favor of shaking his head in disapproval. “So you shall provide”

“I’m not but God’s humble messenger,” Satoru bows his head, eyes glinting as he regards you “So consider the souvenir I brought God’s way of acknowledging your selfless act”

He is serious, but there’s an amused tilt to his gentle smile that warms and softens you up enough to forget about the banter and grin earnestly.

After a silent look that lingers enough for the prickling feeling in your face to make a comeback, you simply turn your face to the front. By your peripheral vision, you notice Satoru’s gaze linger just a few seconds more before he follows your lead.   You both keep walking side by side, arms brushing at every swing. Your throat closes up and you focus on ahead. 

Ijichi is a fast-walker by nature, you have learned, and you saw him hurry his step as Satoru reached your side with long strides a few moments ago. If Satoru wanted, he could outpace you and Ijichi with ease, but he has decided to linger beside you and you soon realize there’s a reason beyond any friendly banter or the announcement of any souvenir. 

You step over a branch peeking through the melting snow on the ground and that’s when he speaks.

“The snow is finally melting” he whispers, “I’m relieved” 

There’s a sympathetic inflexion on his voice that’s not lost to you. The same off-handed tone present on his words these last two weeks through calls and letters. You lean against him almost on instinct, shoulder surprisingly at ease as it bumps against his arm. “Me too”

On a personal level, being friends with Satoru means a lot of things and has plenty of implications you don’t want to get at most of the time. You were both relieved and saddened by his absence during the last snow storms of this winter which tells you enough about the dichotomy that persists in your relationship. It’s easier to dwell on it during this season, which is why you occupy yourself like a maniac during it, which is why you cling to any semblance of sun or warmth amidst the cold. 

The car ride is silent enough, the soft sound of the wheels scraping against the road lulling you as you lean against the window, eyes chasing any rays peeking through the clouds, even if you have to narrow your eyes at the unexpected force of a sun recovering its strength. 

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice is soft, a callback to the time and space you are in right now, tugging you away from cruel memories. 

He offers you his hand, without a glove. Long and pretty and pale. Warm as you press your hand over it.  “The other one too”

That’s when you notice he took both his gloves off and, as he envelops your hands with his, your thoughts linger on how warm and soft and soothing his skin is. 

When he rubs his palms over your cold, trembling fingers, he triggers a scorching heat in your hands and your arms and your whole being. “Your hands are freezing,” he says, none the wiser to your melting insides. “I noticed earlier, you weren’t wearing gloves, or a scarf” 

There’s more than a hint of disapproval in his tone. For real this time. Not like the one he uses to half-heartedly scold your thinly-veiled anti-church sentiments. 

“I-I forgot”

Does he know your mouth feels dry and cottoned? Can he notice the way your breath catches in his throat at his proximity, or the way your heart skips at every motion of his thumbs over the back of your hands? 

“You shouldn’t have walked there with this weather” Satoru whispers, and there’s something in his eyes that goes beyond the earnest care you have grown acquainted with. “You are not even properly clothed for it,” he hums, there’s a bit of the teasing back that gets lost on the deep look in his eyes. 

You don’t even know what to make of it. 

It’s like that one time, over a year ago. 

Just like his voice grabbed you away from the claws of the cruel, painful past, his eyes push you back into that void, except in a kinder, warmer part of it. 

The train ride to the next city and the memory of the gorgeous display on stage. 

It’s a nice memory. 

Nevermind the mortifying discoveries about yourself that trip uncovered. 

Absolutely not. Because it is the beautiful memory of your first ever trip to a professional ballet production, a long-time dream, the one guilty of the fluttering sensation in your stomach.

Not the memory of the seating booth in the train back home feeling strangely suffocating, or his hands over your skin, trying to cool away a fever you couldn’t get rid of. A fever and itch that has been chasing you ever since you sat way too close in the same room, the same bed.

That’s not it. 

It’s the pretty parts, the softer parts you should focus on because it is a nice memory, one that is not tainted by the origins of the crude ruminations that keep you awake at night to this day. Not at all. 

“I wanted to,” you say with a shrug. “To go there, I mean.”

To wait for you. To see you again.

Satoru hums, blowing hot air into your fingertips. Your whole being rattles. 

“You should have waited for me at the church, then” he whispers. His lips are inches away from your hands, you almost want to stretch your fingers, just to try–

“I don’t like to go there when it’s empty,” you respond, voice steadier than your beating heart. 

“It’s never empty,” he replies, thumbs massaging up to your fingertips, squeezing them for barely a second. “It’s the house of God, he is always there” 

He isn’t. And you aren’t either. What’s the point? But you don’t say that, you don’t say anything more. You almost feel like you don’t need to, because Satoru smiles at you then, and it’s almost sad.

You feel you might be privy to what most people in town are not. Your friendship with Satoru didn’t blossom out of shared faith or thrived because of your trust in him as a recipient of God. Quite the contrary.  It was born despite your reservations and your disagreements. As such, you are allowed to see beyond the charming, quick-witted, perfect priest image he projects for all believers to see. For you, he is equally if not more charming and wiser when he is “just Satoru” but you won’t ever tell him that out loud.

Instead, you let your shared secrets and time together speak for you. He knows a lot about you. You know a lot about him. Or so you think. 

Satoru has always given you the impression of false openness. He makes people, you included, feel as if he is sharing a lot, but most of the time, it’s just superficial lore or inconsequential sentiments.

You don't usually pressure him to share anything beyond what he usually does, but there’s a trust that has been nurtured during your time together that has given you both a space to share what you both know is no common knowledge. He doesn’t need to tell you “I have never told this to anyone” but you have learned to recognize when it’s the case. You know when it’s something he wouldn’t share with the world. 

It is often, though, that you get the impression that these secret things have been shared before with someone else out there. There’s something about his speech, the careful distant expression on his face that betrays a sense of dejavu or melancholy that disappears as soon as it appears, between a blink and another. He has travelled the world and he has confessed his sins often. It could be any person out there, a priest or God himself. 

Who knows? You don’t push. You never do. After all, there is a whole story you haven’t shared with him. And you don’t think you will soon. He has the right to have his secrets too, and despite the big chunk of your life that remains hidden close to your chest, you bet he has way more secrets than you do. 

You wear your heart in your sleeve, he doesn’t. You could be fooled by his easy smile and his running mouth, though, like everyone else. 

And you are. 

It seems rather meaningless, but in retrospect, this little thing that Satoru willingly withholds from you unravels the whole mess and tells you more about all the things he doesn’t tell you. 

At some point, it becomes public knowledge that a newly ordained priest will come to your little town. The people are concerned their angel darling of a Father is being moved away. But it doesn’t seem to be the case, as one particular Sunday, Satoru addresses the whispers and concerns from the altar with good humor. 

That’s how you find out, like everyone else. 

Kento Nanami, a priest from the same college as Satoru, will become part of the little community. 

When you question Satoru about it later, ignoring his who-know-what attempt at explaining checkers to you, he sighs, shoulders falling. It is so different from the usual flair he would answer you with, he seems almost defeated for a second, the flames of the chimney of his office flickering all over his face, raising his high cheekbones further. 

“We used to be together in the seminary,” he finally says.

Satoru doesn’t talk much about the seminary. It’s one of the things he pretends he enjoys being open about except all he has ever told you has to do with the multiple headaches he induced on everyone around him. 

“But,” you say, leaning forward in your seat. You try to ignore the way Satoru’s foot brushes against yours as he shifts and stretches his legs under the table. “The people say he is newly ordained”

“Ah, our lovely town is as adept in gossiping as it is in their daily praying,” Satoru comments, propping his chin over his hand with a lazy tilt of the head, a shaper one on his lips . “He is.”

You don’t need to do the math for that one. It doesn’t add up.

“But if he was with you–”

“He left,” Gojo cuts you off with a bit of a bored, resigned expression. “Then he came back.” 

He is not even hiding his unwillingness to share any details. The tense smile is the same he uses when he wants to cut a conversation short. It’s the first time he has used it with you.

And it’s the first time you decide to press, as well. 

“Why did he leave?”

Satoru takes a few seconds to respond, eyes focusing on the dancing flames in the chimney, gaze concerningly distant. For a moment, you think he might tell you it’s none of your business. Strictly speaking, he would be right. 

“Some people aren’t made for it,” he whispers, in the most monotone voice you have ever heard from him. It brings a chill down your spine, suddenly feeling an infinite wall rise between you. You feel you might reach out to touch him and you won’t be able to snatch him away from whatever place he is sinking into now.

But, as it always happens, the wall crumbles as soon as it builds. And Satoru, seemingly sensing your unease, seems to snap out of whatever haze the flames have induced on him.

He smiles, again, eyes flickering towards you. 

“But don’t worry,” he says, even if you are less worried about priest Nanami’s abilities than you are about the all-seeing eyes that look right through you. “Nanamin is. That’s why he came back.”

Kento Nanami sure seems like the kind of guy made to be a priest. He is sober, proper, humble. Kind and polite at the welcoming party your good-spirited town throws for him. He seems genuinely taken aback by the warm reception, but earnest in his shy appreciation. You study every interaction from afar, just like you did back when Satoru first came to town. 

Satoru had been charming, talkative, and full of initiative in every interaction. He had had the hard task of living up to the expectation the priest before him, a beloved local, had risen in forty years of service. Satoru was young. Maybe a bit too young, people had first observed with wariness. But it was that, along with his good-natured humor, his refreshing speech and his impeccable looks, that ended up making him the darling of the town in no time. 

Nanami’s regal presence is impeccable as well, in a different way. There’s nothing out of place, not a hair, not a button, not even a blink, as if everything is carefully crafted with little to no effort. And while he doesn’t seem to have the social energy Satoru has delighted everyone with these past years, he appeals to the community all the same with that mix of youth and firmness reminiscent of a soldier. He looks older than Satoru.  There’s something in their interactions that suggests something you can’t quite put your finger on. Satoru is cheery, as always. Friendly and familiar with his arm thrown over the other priest’s shoulders, with his animated voice raising over the bustle of the party but something in Nanami’s shoulders remains tense in a way they weren’t in any other interaction. 

It’s so weird once you see it. 

It could be simple shyness at Satoru’s familiarity, but he doesn’t seem shy or flustered. You don’t even know if, judging by his stern expression, he is even capable of it. 

It’s seems there’s a world they are part of you are not privy to. That’s probably the case. Priesthood and seminary life it’s not something you ever can or want to fully comprehend.

But, despite whatever weird energy surrounding them, they make for a nice picture, standing side by side, overlooking the party and the towners from the first landing of the stairs leading up to the church. The single photographer from the local paper thinks the exact same, snapping a shot with little warning. It captures Satoru leaning towards Nanami, a smile frozen midway as the flash explodes in their faces. 

Nanami is tall, but looking at them like this, you can truly put into perspective how tall Satoru truly is, his shoulder some inches above the other man’s. 

No matter, you have to lean your head back to look at the two of them properly. 

Kento or “Nanamin” is polite enough to stay quiet through Satoru’s enthusiastic introduction but it’s soon clear to you that he is barely tolerating the other’s incessant, loud chatter right into his ear. He still smiles, bows his head at you, as he introduces himself as if Satoru hadn’t done it for him over three times already. There’s a distant echo in your head that bothers you and there’s a weird feeling in your chest as you catch Nanami’s eyes looking at you as if he is trying to decipher a puzzle himself. 

“Sorry if I overstep but, have we met?” he finally asks.

Satoru finally pauses beside you, only then paying attention to the fact that Nanami is not listening to his vibrant spiel, but he doesn’t seem baffled, face dropping to a rather curious, questioning glance more for Nanami than for yourself. Your smile doesn’t waver, tensing just the slightest bit as the echo in your head raises its volume. 

“I don’t think so, no” you say. 

Just like you did almost two years ago, when Satoru first came to the church, you leave the party early and find yourself pulled towards the limit of the woods at the outskirts. Once you step onto the only proper road leading to the next town, your eyes focus on the giant oak tree that stands at the top of the one little hill overseeing your step.  The path is painful yet soothing in its familiarity, your heels digging in the dirt and light layer of snow enveloping the steep as you balance your weight and propel forward. 

As you make your way to the top, the big, old oak greets you with a rustle of leaves. The leaves persevere during winter, for a reason you would like to think you know. 

You feel your face warm with the effort and you can see your breath escape in little puffs of hot air that evaporate into the frosted wind as you walk towards the wide, rough trunk, and press your cheek against it.

You lean on the trunk and focus on the sounds coming from within, the endless shifting of it akin to breathing. Even if you wanted to hug it, you wouldn’t be able to. The immensity of it makes it impossible.  It’s ironically cruel. You can’t hug him again and you can’t hug the one breathing thing that reminds you of him either. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited,” you  say, closing your eyes. You can almost pulsing with life against your face. One of your hands curls over the trunk. “I missed you today.”

At this time of the year, you are forced to confront plenty of things. You thought you had survived this winter without having to think, but there’s a sweet and painful song of melancholy in the air that follows you through these events. 

It makes you think again about how you would have forgiven him, if he came to town like Satoru did. Like Nanami did. You would have forgiven him. Even if he was clad in priest robes and stood over the altar with the pride of a soldier of God. You would have forgiven him even with the sting of all the broken childish promises. 

“It would have been okay, at the end,” it's the only other thing you say out loud. 

It’s a sad and embarrassing thought, that you don’t have to say much. Wherever he is now, he knows what he didn’t know before. And everyone knows too. Everyone that loves you and loves him knows. That the pain has subsided and dulled but lingers like a chronic nightmare that sharpens every so often. 

That you spent years mad at him and now you can only be mad at yourself. You have matured and you see things in a different light now, left to wonder if you , rather than him, could have done anything in another way. 

It’s sad and embarrassing when Satoru meets you at the entrance road to the main street, concern or pity barely veiled as he heaves, cheeks rosy, his rebellious white hair slightly dancing at the tune of the frosty wind, all that betraying the hurried steps he took upon realizing your absence. 

You offer him a little smile, finally having cried what you had to cry these past days, your head doesn’t feel as heavy with dark thoughts anymore. You can leave your penances with the oak tree.

“Did my mother ask you to come look for me?” you ask, not thinking twice before hooking your arm with the one he is offering you.

Satoru stares at you intently, head tilted as you both turn back towards the main square in a dance you don’t have to rehearse anymore. It feels natural, walking with him like this. 

“More like I offered,” he replies, eyes finally focusing ahead. “Watching her pace around pale with worry, I had to ask what was her cause of concern”

You feel a pinch of guilt.

“She—”

Satoru spares you from having to offer an excuse or apology.

“She knew where you were, but she was worried you would stay there until dark so I told her it would be better for me to bring you back.”

You sigh, head leaning against his arm, gaze focused on the thin mantle of snowflakes in the ground. 

“I didn’t need to stay for long.”

“That’s a good thing.” You don’t know if you imagine it, but you can feel Satoru speak against the crown of your head.  “It’s still pretty cold out here.”

You answer with a hum, hiding your face into his arm, even his jacket is impregnated with his cologne. Moments like this are met with such intense yearning everything else you feel along with it melts into a pool of sweet resignation.  

“You know you can talk to me,” he says, stopping on his tracks. You inhale a bit more of his perfume and the winter air before looking up at him. 

You know he can probably see the red trails and rims that expose your silent, lonely tears from earlier but you don’t mind. He looks into your eyes, brows furrowing just a bit, before he shifts his body to face you as well. The snow crunches slightly under his boots. 

“What?” you ask. 

He raises his hand and reaches for your face. Your eyes flutter in anticipation of his touch and that’s when you feel the phantom pressure of his fingertips against your heavy eyelashes. There’s a sole huff of air that resembles a laugh escaping from his lips, in tandem with the sigh that escapes yours and his soft smile and sad gaze is all you see as you open your eyes.

“There’s frost in your eyelashes,” he whispers, his thumb barely grazing the apple of your cheek, probably following the abandoned path a tear left behind. 

Your breath hitches and a surge of adrenaline makes you turn your face to the side, just in time for Satoru to caress your cupid bow and the curve of your upper lip. Your eyes flutter close. It’s only for half a millisecond and his hand retreats as if you were burning him, curling on itself in the air, hovering over your face. Not a sound comes from him. 

“I know,” you breathe out.

“Hm?” 

“I know I can talk to you,” you clarify, blinking up at him with a soft tilt of your head and in your lips. 

He doesn’t escape your gaze, and you can see yourself reflected on his darkened, tempestuous blue eyes.

“But you won’t,” he says. 

“Not about this,” you reply honestly. 

“But we are–”

You cut him off, before you can hope, protest or rejoice on whatever epithet escapes his lips.

“I know,” you unhook your arm from his, pressing a hand over his forearm. “But you don’t tell me every single thing about you either,” you squeeze slightly and you can feel his muscles clench under the pressure. “Do you?”

After seconds that feel like minutes stretching, he presses his hand over yours and squeezes in a thousand unspoken words.

“No.”

“And that’s okay.”

After all, there are things you don’t want him to know about, even if a part of you thinks he does already. 

A part of you wants to believe he understands.

But how could he? 

Someone like him can’t never lose, not anything nor anyone.

Your mother forgives your brief disappearance and requires you to run a few errands to pay back any concern you may have caused, mostly to soothe any lingering guilt from your part. It’s always like this between you both, the silent agreements and the subtle conversations. 

You can talk about pain freely but you are candid enough about it for her not to worry about you letting it eat away at you in silence. 

“Did the visit help?” she asks, hands busy and eyes fixed on you, as you wait patiently, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Hm,” you nod, a faint smile. “It had been a while, I think that’s what I needed” 

“I know you usually like to go up there alone,” she starts, “but please try not to linger too close to sunset, the air gets colder and the path is too dark for my peace of mind”

“You know I don’t like to walk in the snow at night.”

Your mother’s eyes trail away from you. “Right.”

“I’m okay,” you say, voice not wavering. 

“I know you are,” she replies, looking back at you with love and concern mingling in her pupils. Your throat would close up at the sight on worse days. 

Today, though, you smile at her with veiled gratitude and a hint of apology as she hands you a knitted bag, heavy with homemade goods.

“You know,” you point out, weighing it in your hands with a pensive pout in your lips. “I think you spoil that man way too much.” 

“Those are for Father Nanami as well,” your mother protests, lifting her brow at you, affronted. “And ‘that man’ is our priest” 

“It’s just Satoru,” you said. A slip up that you paid mind to a little too late. 

“Precisely because it’s Father Satoru,” your mother replies, casual, as swift as her hands rearranging the last few envelopes. Her brief yet disapproving sideways glance is the only other indication that she has taken note of your disrespectful nonchalance. “He is a friend.”

“It doesn’t matter,” was the answer that made its way to your tongue. It didn’t come out of your lips though, it was too much of a lie. 

“He should be thankful we prepared him anything at all.” 

The piercing glare your mother throws your way is enough to seal your lips shut and make you swallow your complaint. You smile innocently, fluttering your eyelashes. 

“Last time that look worked on me was when you were nine years old” 

You don’t receive yet another earful regarding your lack of respect towards the so-called angel of the town, though, so you are thankful. Your mother is aware of the particular familiarity between Satoru and you and while you both have talked about the level of casualness you are okay with, she insists you follow the proper etiquette with a man of God. 

“Smile when you deliver this,” she reminds you, planting an obnoxious kiss on your cheek. “We made such an effort putting this together,” your mother comments, eyes much softer than her admonishing voice. The ghost of a smile in her lips suggests a tease that you decide to ignore pointedly, your cheeks flaring. “Presentation is everything.” 

You roll your eyes, making your way to the door, “Right...” you drawl. 

“Don’t forget your scarf”

You hum in response, stopping at the foyer and grabbing it from the rack next to the door. As you tie it around your neck, a thought makes you pause.

“Mom?”

She peeks into the foyer. “Yes?”

You grab the door handle, eyeing her just briefly before twisting the knob. 

“Did you tell Satoru?”

As you open the door, the cold wind blows into the warmth of the house. Your hair waves with it. 

“About the tree?”

It’s always like this between you both, the silent connection and the subtle communication. 

“About why I go there,” you say. 

Your mother is quick to answer both with words and with a firm shake of her head.

You almost regret asking when you see the sorrowful lines that map her face.

“Of course not, it’s not my place to tell.”

You nod, smiling a bit. “Okay.”

As you step out, her voice reaches your ears. “But–“

You look over your shoulder. She looks sheepish, hands dancing on her lap. “Don’t you think it would help? Talking about it with him ? He is your friend and he is closer to God.”

You let out a soft laugh, not unkind. “I think it would be the most awkward conversation to have.”

Whenever you walk towards the parish, you think of Satoru. At the beginning, it was out of curiosity and wariness, as you imagined and played around with the endless possibilities of the mystery of his personality. Now, it is unbearable. The sense of anticipation that used to precede your meetings has mixed in with a yearning, an itch that you can barely scratch and which nature makes your stomach twist. 

You are aware there’s an inherent wickedness permeating your feelings now, that most of your thoughts linger close to the line of impropriety and don’t reciprocate Satoru’s unconditional respect for you. 

Because, even if he is unconventional in more ways than one, especially in comparison to the strict mold a catholic priest is expected to fit in, there’s nothing about him that suggests a questionable morality.  Even with the way he is always getting close, shimming in your head and personal space, talking your ear off about everything and nothing and making jokes that walk and tether the line of strict propriety. And even with your proximity and the familiarity that allows him to touch you freely, there’s a delicate balance and respectful boundaries in your relationship. 

His hands never wander or linger beyond the socially acceptable, invisible limits society has mapped a woman’s body with. The looks he gives you, while filled with open interest and regard, are void of a dark, twisted intention you have seen other men possess. 

You are the one that avoids looking at him too much or staring at his eyes for too long, fearing the kind of expression you will see reflected on his all-seeing eyes. You are the one terrified about the possibility of him reading the hidden thoughts swirling in the depths of your brain. 

The innocence of your friendship has mixed in with a dark pull that makes you crave Satoru’s proximity in a way you shouldn’t dare to entertain. It’s a cruel irony. Even beyond all the key reasons why your fascination should remain concealed behind platonic affections. 

It’s wrong. 

For the first time in the entire winter, you feel grateful when a whip of harsh, cold air hits your body. It’s heaven’s warning. A way to tell you to focus on the goosebumps instead of whatever black holes your mind is spiraling into.

You walk up the last steps leading to the entrance of the parish feeling nauseous, fighting and locking away the last thoughts. You inhale deeply before walking through the open doors, your nose filled instantly with the sweet smell of incense as the muscle memory takes over and you sign the cross over your upper body.  It’s true when they say the church is truly never empty, and not because of the hypothetical presence of a higher being, but because it’s always open. During the day hours, there are always a few believers praying or waiting for a confession, head down, silently holding a conversation with either God or themselves. 

Your eyes scan the few people scattered in the pews and you are not surprised to realize you are familiar with the back of the heads of half your neighbors. You walk to one side, moving along the rows of pews and nodding politely to those that are alerted by the movement in their peripheral.  Nonetheless, as you get closer to the partly hidden hallway that leads to Satoru’s office and the sacristy, a smaller frame catches your attention. He is sitting right at the edge of the pew closest to the hallway leading to the offices. You walk closer and look over the scrawny shoulder, making sure he is not praying. 

“Yuuji?” you whisper.

The boy raises his head, turning his gaze away from the missal on his lap. You smile down at the way his slightly bewildered expression morphs into a wide grin. 

“Miss—!” he whispers back. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ruffling his hair. 

He gestures for you to get closer. When you do, he leans forward. 

“I’m here to tell Father Gojo something” 

You raise a brow, leaning back just enough to admire the anticipation in his expression.

“Father Gojo said I could be an altar boy next Sunday if Grandpa agreed,” he chirps.

You resist the urge to raise both eyebrows. You would think Yuuji is too young to be an altar boy, and you know Satoru does too, having denied his multiple, enthusiastic and incessant requests. Nonetheless, you also know Wasuke is spending more time at the hospital lately and that might be enough reason for him and Satoru to reconsider. Yuuji seems excited enough though. He thinks Satoru is the coolest guy around and has been trailing after him like a baby duck for a while. 

“Let me guess,” you lean down with a conspiratorial whisper. “He said yes”

“Yes!” 

Yuuji’s outburst bounces off the old rock walls but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You notice some people looking in your direction, raising their heads from their silent prayer with varying degrees of bewilderment. You shrug at them, an apologetic grimace, before turning back to Yuuji. 

“Oh my” you huff out a laugh, keeping your voice at whisper-level. “Congrats on the promotion!” 

Yuuji almost bounces off the pew but his voice is lower this time. “Thank you.”

“What’s your salary?”

“I-I don’t think I have one,” he perks up, intrigued. 

“You should ask for one” 

“Oh,” the boy doesn’t even question you, but furrows his brows a bit after a moment. “It shouldn’t be money, though”

You nod, mimicking his serious expression. “Of course.”

Yuuji’s legs swing over the edge of the pew as he looks at the bright colored windows.

“Movies” he suggests, doe eyes looking for your approval. 

You bite back a smile but click your tongue and reign in your expression for the sake of the serious aura around him. 

“He already lends them to you,” you tap your chin before your expression brightens. “I will help you negotiate weekly cinema tickets and all-you-can-eat ice cream” 

Yuuji’s eyes are bright and wide as a gasp escapes his lips. “You would?”

“Uh-huh,” you wink, straightening back to your height. “I’m sure Father Satoru will honor this deal”

Yuuji beams up at you, body almost bouncing off the pew. You giggle, ruffling his hair before fishing some baked goods from your knitted bag.

“For you and Gramps”

“Thank you!” He promptly opens the envelope with enthusiasm and eyes at them. He sniffs unapologetically, “They smell so good! Did you make them?”

“My mom and I did,” you confirm, gently pressing your hand over his so he closes the paper. “They are better hot, so don’t open until you eat them”

“I will go eat them now!” he declares, clutching into them as if you would change your mind and snatch them away. “Outside,” he adds. 

You laugh, propping a hand over your hip. “Wait, don’t you want to come to see Father Satoru?"

Yuuji is already sliding off the bench. “He told me to wait a few minutes, he is busy having a grown up talk with Father Nanamin!”

“Nana—“ you trail off. “Isn’t it Nanami?”

The young boy shrugs, already munching on a cookie despite his earlier promise. “Father Gojo calls him Nanamin and Father Nanamin says it was okay if I called him that. He doesn’t seem to like when Father Gojo does, though”

“I see.” 

“You are a grown-up, so you can talk to them now,” Yuuji instructs sagely, pointing towards the hallway.  

You salute, “Understood, boss”

Yuuji waves at you before skipping out the church. You observe his bouncing frame until it disappears beyond the entrance and you shake your head fondly, before turning around. As you pass the side of the altar, your gaze lingers in the Virgin Mary figure, the flickering flames of the candles at her feet dancing along her body. The candle you lit up many years ago should be right there.

With that last thought, you look forward and slide into the hallway. 

At this point, you are familiar with every single corner of this place. Satoru gave you a personalized tour last year, almost scandalized at the thought of you not being familiar with the parish you had grown up in. So, w ith time, you found yourself feeling comfortable enough to explore around on your own, mostly to pass the time while Satoru is attending his priestly duties.

You have grown familiar with every nook and cranny of Satoru’s office as well and you know you can waltz right into it when the door is left ajar. Which is always.

Well, almost. 

Strangely enough, you are greeted with the side of a closed door. You frown a bit, eyes fixed on the engraved name at the door. Satoru Gojo. You raise your hand to knock, fearing to walk into a serious conversation you shouldn’t overheard.  Something makes you hesitate, though. Probably the hushed whispers traveling through the door. 

You stand there, even if you know you shouldn’t. 

“…it’s been almost seven years.”

“Didn’t know there’s a rule that says I should stop caring after–”

It takes you a few seconds to realize but what you assumed was a casual conversation sounds way more heated than that. You can’t always quite tell what’s being said, but there are moments the whispers evolve into louder 

“….I’m just saying, a long time has passed, maybe you should let it go.”

“You want me to forget it!?”

“I’m not saying you should forget it, but God knows moving on is the best thing we can do. I did–”

“Jesus Christ,” Satoru huffs, “don’t you dare lecture me about moving on, you are here .”

You are so baffled by the fact that Satoru’s voice has the capacity to reach that level of defensive hostility that you don’t quite register how long the silence stretches after his last retort.

“I thought you had matured,” Nanami finally says and the casual coldness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “But you are the same impulsive, hot-headed, imprudent kid from all those years ago. Be mindful of your role.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell do you think I have been doing?” Satoru’s voice raises further, a sardonic tone permeating every word. “I’m so close to–”

“You have plenty of people depending on you,” Nanami cuts you off. “If you care about them, you will move cautiously.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence after that. You shift the weight from one foot to another, raising your hand to knock. 

“And [Name]–“ Nanami starts.

And you startle. 

Nonetheless, Satoru clicks his tongue. You can hear him pacing around in the room. Or it might be Nanami. 

“Don’t even bring her up,” the former hisses, in a fiery protest. “Don’t even start. We are friends”

“It’s not that, Satoru, she’s—”

“I’m done with—”

You can barely register the sudden movement, a surge of warmth and a woody, earthy aroma hitting you right in the face. Your eyes focus on the wall of Satoru’s office. Opposite of you, there’s an ample bookshelf of the same expensive yet old wood of the desk. There are no windows and the lights are out which makes the flames cast shadows and dancing figures all over the room and on Nanami’s surprised face as he leans against the desk.  “—this.”

You take a stumbling step back when your eyes meet as if the force of it was enough to make you lose balance. Only then, when your eyes run away from his, you find yourself face to face with Satoru Gojo, still with his hand on the knob, the most baffled expression you have ever seen on him. “You—”

“I–” your mouth feels dry, your heartbeats ringing in your ears. “I was just…” 

“Not now.”

Whatever fluster, shame or guilt you might have begun to feel instantly evaporates into a cloud of pure befuddlement. Satoru’s face is not a display of perplexity anymore but rather an inexpressive, almost dismissive mask. It’s so foreign it makes you take a step back. 

“H–huh?” you let out. “I was just—”

“[Name], I apologize,” he mutters in a tone that doesn’t suggest a hint of regret, “but the confessional opens at ten, so not now.” 

“I just wanted—”

“[Name]…” there’s a hint of a plea this time, as he tilts his head to the side and avoids your gaze, as if he is trying to repel you.

Nanami frowns, stepping closer. “Gojo—”

The cloud of bafflement dissipates to expose a mix of indignation and humiliation. It’s the fact that he has never spoken to you like this. Ever. Not until today. You feel yourself ruffle and warm up under his gaze, a glare settling on your eyes. 

He opens his mouth again and you clutch the strap of your knitted bag, feeling defensive. 

“Gojo,” Nanami speaks, pressing a hand over his shoulder. 

Satoru bites his inner cheek but doesn’t say anything else. He shrugs Nanami off after a few seconds, though. You can only observe, trying to wrap your head around what you are seeing and hearing and what you thought you would see and hear and how you imagined your day would go. 

You retrace every step in your head as you physically walk back, affronted. Before you can even say anything, though. Before you can defend yourself or protest, something catches your eye.

You wish you had never seen it.

Nanami is wearing a black cassock, just like Satoru is. The clerical collar is pristine and there’s a cross hanging off his neck. It catches the light of the flames in the chimney.

At the left, an ornate badge is proudly fixed against his chest. It’s a beautiful one, the fanciest kind of needlework. And a very familiar one. You have spent hours staring at the embroidery, the design, at the way the crimson and the plum and the gold thread harmonize in an intricate embrace. 

All of a sudden, you feel bile rise up your throat.

“[Name]–”

You don’t care if Satoru's tone is kinder this time. The sight surely isn’t. 

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

The words ring in your ears, the voice all too clear after all these years, hands without a body handing you a box too light.

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

Your hand tugs at the fine chain around your neck, your hand molding around the little case in an anxious grip. Your hand is sweaty and your thumb traces over the curves and lines of the initials engraved on the locket in a silent callback.

“H–hey…”

You turn around without looking back. Your steps are swift, desperate. The hallway seems to stretch on and on and the rest of the church closes in on you as you focus on the light of the outside world ahead. Your hurried steps echo off the walls, the beginning of a sob held back by your tight-sealed lips.  You might have heard your name but you don’t mind, you want to keep running until you can finally breathe. Until the light outside erases every memory of the cold winter. 

In reality, you run until you physically tire out. Until you are heaving, leaning on your knees, droplets falling from your face and into the snow. They could be tears or sweat, you don’t know. 

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

You might want to retch out of the sickening voice replaying in your head over and over again or because you have moved forward like a mad-woman. Either way, you inhale and exhale as frantically as you have run until the need for oxygen subsides and you don’t have a choice but to kneel down. Your hands and knees are partly buried in the snow. 

You hate winter.

It brings cold and sickness and painful memories with it. For you, the worst part of it is the phantom hold that clings and suffocates you like a constricting vine.  Trees are still skinny and mostly naked, branches trembling at the wind, bending under the weight of the last snowfall. 

All but one. 

Your head rises. It’s easy to see it from the bottom of the hill. 

Between the leisure movement of a heavy cloud and the other, the sun has started to reach out with its lukewarm rays and, right at the top, the giant oak tree stands proud and imposing. Its monstrous shadow seems to stretch impossibly long, all the way down the hill where it reaches you and envelopes you like a mantle. 

“You have finally come back to haunt me” 

hi again ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ i want to thank you for reading all the way to here. You absolutely rock and I'm profoundly flattered. this post is crazy to me because despite my long time in fandom trenches, this is the first time I post a self insert / OC fic aaaaand a fic on tumblr. Kudos to Satoru Gojo and my catholic upbringing for mingling in my brain! Anyway, you probably have more questions than answers and for that I apologize. I feel this introduction is a bit more confusing than anything but that's exactly what I wanted to go after. Hopefully it gives you an idea of the messy state of things. There’s a whole menu of mildly fucked up stuff here and I'm so excited for you to browse it in the upcoming chapters.Anyways! Any doubts you have feel free to drop in the comments or in an ask, I will be more than happy to answer if it's nothing to spoilery :v If you don’t have any questions yet, don’t worry i'm looking forward to read your thoughts and comments or constructive criticism about the chapter as well! Thank you so much for taking the time to give this lil work a chance! Til next time my beloveds ♡ Have a good day/night!

©️ lilactwilights | no repost allowed | likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

©️ divider by strangergraphics

[marginofthought]

Sam getting “D” tattooed on him while away at stanford cause he’s missing dean so bad and after all this time with dean not as much as call him he lost the hope of seeing him again so what are the chances of dean seeing it or someone figuring it out

Then Dean crashed into his life again and with all the grief, thoughts and need for dean in his mind so he totally forget that he has a tattoo that’s not supposed to be seen by dean on their first time together … and Dean SEES IT ………..

Oh god, I like that, anon and I really shouldn't start another WIP about it (watch me do it anyway) but here's a drabble:

“So what’s the D for?” Jessica asked, idly tracing along Sam’s upper back while he was laying on his stomach in her bed. It was probably not the first time she had seen him, judging by the amount of times she had seen him naked but she had never asked before and Sam had been grateful for that. 

He stiffened up, starting to roll to his back but she held him back, surprisingly powerful.

“It’s just-”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to pry, Sam,” she said in a calm voice, almost like he was a spooked animal and maybe he was. 

“You don’t have to explain,” she stopped him. “It’s personal, I get it.”

Sam nodded and sighed, trying to relax back into the bed now that he could keep his secret once more.

–

A hot and slippery finger traced over the tattoo and now Sam froze too. He stopped breathing, his spine stiff and his hole clenching. 

The next time someone askdc him about his tattoo it wasn't Sam who froze initially. Dean had been in the motion of pushing his cock inside Sam when Sam let his head hang, freeing his neck and making Dean freeze. 

“I-”

“Sammy?”

They spoke over one another, not moving, not getting anywhere.

“Is that-”

“It’s no-”

Dean took charge as always and pushed in balls deep in one motion, making Sam lose his breath.

“So what’s better? Having me on your skin or inside you?” 

Sam let his head hang again, choosing not to reply. 

–

“So?” Dean asked, tracing the letter in an eerily familiar move. 

“What?” Sam mumbled, fucked out and sleepy on Dean’s chest. 

“Y’know, needed someone to watch my back,” he mumbled into Dean’s skin, sleep taking over and making him miss the way Dean’s face fell at the implications as well as the possessive squeeze.

“The D?”

“Oh,” Sam said quietly. “Needed something to remind me of you after you stopped answering the phone,” Sam admitted, feeling ashamed but too fucked out to care. 

[cherrykpawp]

Heat // Ch 9

Rating: Explicit, Mature (M)

Pairings: Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, San x reader. Mentions of Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Wooyoung

This chapter includes: hybrids, Afab!reader, reader-centric, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, Dance instructor!Yunho, Owner!Yunho, Calico hybrid!reader, Black cat hybrid!San, Husky hybrid!Mingi, first experiences (outing), (very) slight alcohol consumption, closure

Taglist: @m-flowerjunnie-oa, @mrsminseochoi, @strawwff, @sunlight120902, @awkward-fucking-thing, @menialmoonchild, @jjongsho, @chanscase143, @lililiarina, @babyquokkasworld

W.C: 8.3k

It's been a week since your heat, and life has returned to normal. The only difference is the addition of affectionate touches and kisses—purely innocent gestures. Most of the time, they pressed them on your hands, cheeks, and forehead. But, there were moments of gentle osculation, when they’d steal a kiss from your lips—the sweetest pecks, but nothing more. You’ve also added photography to your daily routine, capturing moments that caught your eye. You have a growing collection of sleepy San pictures, Mingi focused while playing games, and playful shots of Yunho. 

They all took selfies on your phone so you’d have at least one proper picture of them, though you set the funnier ones as their contact photos. You shared them with Wooyoung and Yeosang, and in return, they’d send you images of Yunho, San, and Mingi—or themselves. Wooyoung often sent stunning selfies, proudly showing his beauty mark since he knew how much you loved it, while Yeosang would share candid shots of whatever he was doing currently. You preferred taking off-guard photos of them; they felt more authentic and raw.

You were lying on the living room couch alone, scrolling through the photos—organizing them, cropping a few here and there. Jongho had stopped by earlier for another vocal lesson, teaching you new techniques and breathing exercises before helping you with the next section of the song you were learning. Not only did you get to record him singing for you before he left, but he also shared a playlist someone made of all the songs he’s covered on YouTube—just in case you ever wanted to revisit them. You were convinced that Jongho’s voice was truly captivating, the kind that drew you in completely. You knew you needed to see him perform live—preferably with a full crowd.

Your ears twitched at the sound of the front door unlocking, and you sat up, eyes still glued to your phone. Yunho stepped in, hanging up his jacket and kicking off his shoes. When you realized it was him, you greeted him with a warm smile—and he returned it just as warmly.

“Welcome home. How was work?” You asked, setting your phone aside to give him your full attention.

Yunho strolled over to the dining table near the couch, sifting through the mail that had arrived earlier. “Busy, but fun. I missed dancing—and seeing everyone nail the choreography on the first try was a pleasant surprise.” 

“Is this a different choreography or the one for A/N?” You tilted your head in curiosity.

“Different. That one’s not scheduled for a little while.” Yunho discarded the unimportant envelopes on the table, heading to the couch. He rested his palms on the backrest, leaning forward slightly to look at you. “I was wondering while I was at work—have you ever wanted to go anywhere?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Yunho responded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just feel guilty that you’re mostly indoors. I never really asked or considered whether you wanted to go out and visit somewhere.”

You took a moment to ponder. “I’ve always wanted to visit places—like I’ve seen in movies and TV shows. But it never dawned on me to actually go. I mean, I know I have clothes for specific occasions… I guess I was just waiting for an appropriate time.”

Yunho nodded, placing his hands on his hips. “If that’s the case, write down a list of all the things you’ve ever wanted to do—and we’ll do them,” he promised. “We can spread them out over the next few weeks, especially since I’ll be too busy to spend much time with you soon.”

The thought of him being busier and having less time for you brought a fleeting flicker of sadness, but it wasn’t like you’d never see him. You still had San and Mingi to keep you company, and they seemed used to this routine by now. There was nothing for you to worry about. 

“I’ll get to it then,” you beamed, pulling up your notes app.

Yunho left you alone in the living room to quickly wash up after a long day's work. You began brainstorming a list of activities you wanted to do, including some things you would never normally consider. But if they were there with you, you wouldn’t be afraid to try anything. Needing inspiration, you texted Yeosang and Wooyoung to ask them for their advice or recommendations. Wooyoung suggested an idea you never thought of, but after he explained the details, you found it equally intriguing. It seemed like a fun idea—one that could involve everyone.

Satisfied with your list, you padded quietly to Yunho’s room, knocking on the door. When you heard his voice inviting you in, you entered. Yunho was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling down the hem of his shirt. His hair was freshly washed and blow-dried, looking incredibly homey.

“You’re done?” he asked, patting a spot on the bed beside him.

You gladly took the seat next to him and handed him the tablet. “Yeah., Wooyoung and Yeosang helped me with some ideas—I actually don’t have that much I want to do,” you admitted with a shrug.

Yunho furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the screen, carefully reading the list. He saw what you had written: restaurant, amusement park, karaoke, arcade, and photoshoot. Then his eyes moved to the next section: princess role play, celebrating our birthdays, and a solo day with Yunho.

“We can probably do the first few things tomorrow, if you like,” Yunho said, glancing over the list again. “However, it’s still winter—almost spring—I don’t think we will be able to go to the amusement park until it gets warmer, I’m afraid,” he added apologetically. “However, there’s a winter festival happening this week. It has snacks, arcade games, and even a few rides, if that sounds good to you.”

“I should’ve considered the weather,” you hummed in acknowledgment. “But I’d love to go to a festival—anything, as long as it’s with the three of you.”

Yunho smiled. “I’m off for the next two days, and San and Mingi haven’t been to the festival in about two years—I’m sure they’d want to go too.” He paused, gripping his chin with a puzzled countenance as he read the rest of the suggestions. “What do you mean by Princess role play?”

“That one was Wooyoung’s idea,” you defended, quickly clearing up any confusion. “He told Seonghwa to prepare outfits for you, San, and Mingi that match a ‘Prince’ theme. He also wants to be involved, along with Yeosang, so I assume you’ll all be wearing ‘Prince’ outfits.” Even though it had been Wooyoung’s suggestion, you wondered what it would be like, too.

Yunho chuckled. “Sounds like that plan’s set in stone—so I can’t tell him or Seonghwa no. And knowing Seonghwa, he’ll definitely enable him. He loves this kind of thing too.” 

“I also wanted to celebrate our birthdays together, since they’re close,” you added, your tail wrapping around your arm as excitement bubbled up at the thought of all the upcoming outings.

“Any place in particular?”

Pausing, you chose something none of them would likely expect. “A bar or club.”

Yunho’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

You nodded. “I never experienced drinking. It’s something I always wanted to try.”

Yunho hasn’t been out to a bar or club in quite a while. Frankly, he rarely drank at all; that was more of a pastime for the hybrids when the mood struck them.

But for you, he’ll do anything.

“Then a club it is,” Yunho affirmed with confidence. “You also mentioned a solo day with just us?”

“Just us,” you repeated softly. “Of course, I’d love to involve San and Mingi—most of these plans, I’d love for them to come along,” you reassured Yunho. “But I’d also really like to spend a day with just you. Doing whatever you want. As long as it’s with you, especially before I start seeing you less.”

Yunho’s eyes softened. “That’s understandable. I won’t be gone for too long, and I’ll ensure to keep you updated with everything when it happens.” It stung a little for Yunho. Knowing you’re already preparing outings together before he’s suffocated by his work. But at the same time, he found it endearing—how thoughtful and intentional you were being with your time together. 

“Oh! I also don’t know any nice restaurants, so I wanted you to pick one. That’s the only thing I need help with,” you elaborated, feeling satisfied with your ideas.

Yunho hummed in understanding. “Is there anything you don’t like to eat?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I’m picky. Anything’s fine.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said, handing the tablet back, assuming you’d probably return to YouTube. “We’ve got plans for tomorrow. I’ll let the boys know.”

~~

It was the next day, and you were more excited than anything—it was your first proper day out with everyone. You had spent the night figuring out an outfit for the winter festival, since you’d never been before. Opting for a more casual look, you chose a pair of black baggy jeans with embroidered pockets, a plain gray t-shirt that fit you just right, some Converse, and an oversized cardigan to wear under your coat. It didn’t seem practical to wear anything extravagant to a winter festival. From what you’d seen in movies and shows, it’s mostly a walking and exploring activity. 

Heading to your shared bathroom, you decided to do a bit of pampering. You took the time to style your hair the way your old owner had taught you, adding subtle waves to your hair for a more casual yet put-together look. This was followed by a bit of mascara and lip tint—nothing too crazy. Once satisfied with your outfit and appearance, you went downstairs, still excited to see if anyone else was ready. 

Seeing no one downstairs yet made you curious. You walked up to San’s door and knocked to see if he was in. After about five seconds, he opened the door, his ears twitching when he saw you. He stood before you in black slacks, derby shoes with minimal elevation, and a tank top. His hair fell over his forehead, while his tail and ears shared the same healthy sheen and silkiness.

“Well, you look pretty as always,” San said suavely, leaning against his door frame. “I love what you did with your hair—make-up too.”

You playfully flicked your hair behind your shoulder. “Why, thank you. It’s my first time going out in a while, so I decided to put a little effort in,” you explained honestly. “You look handsome yourself.”

“Coming from you, that’s high praise,” San replied, stepping away from the door frame to let you in. “I’ve been having a hard time choosing what to wear for our evening plans. Do you mind helping me?”

Walking over to his bed, you noticed he had three turtlenecks laid out. The only problem was that they were all black—there wasn’t much variety to select from.

“Can I be honest?” you began softly.

Sam squinted at the turtlenecks, examining each one. “Yes, but I feel like I should be worried.”

“They’re all pretty much the same…” His ears drooped at your words, so you quickly clarified. “I just don’t know what’s different about them.”

“One’s thicker, one has a longer neck, and one is a knit zip-up,” San answered casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m trying to figure out which would go well with my slacks…”

Any one of them would suit the slacks, to be honest. “The knit one. If you wear the thicker one, you might get too hot. Plus, the zip-up adds more texture to your outfit,” you said, holding it up to his torso, imagining how it would look. “Yeah, this one.” San’s outfit looked incredibly sophisticated yet charming.

San took the sweater from you, giving you a sweet smile. “Thank you for helping. If you’d like to stay, you can—but I’m almost ready.”

You rubbed his back gently. “I’d love to, but I’m going to check if Yunho and Mingi are ready.” Your ear brushed against his shoulder, tickling him slightly. “I’ll see you out in the living room soon.”

San nodded, sending an air peck your way as you left his room.

As you stepped into the hallway, you spotted Mingi sitting on the couch, already fully dressed. He wore a black tee tucked into his khaki cargo pants, topped with a brown leather jacket that had black accents on the pockets, collar, and down the outside of the sleeves. In true Mingi fashion, his fingers were adorned with rings, and he wore a matching necklace and belt, remarkably stylish.

When he saw you approach the living room, he sat up straighter, his ears perked high on his head. He gestured for you to come closer, holding his hands out. You gladly took them, rubbing your thumbs along the rings.

Mingi examined your face closely. “You look stunning today.”

You tilted your head. “Only today?”

“Today, yesterday, tomorrow. Always—with or without makeup or your hair styled,” Mingi proclaimed without hesitation, sincerity written all over his face. “Are you looking forward to today?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve never been to a festival before, so everything will be new to me.”

This seemed to surprise Mingi; the confusion on his face made you assume that Yunho hadn’t told him. “Is that so?”

“I’ve only seen videos and movies,” you said, reminiscing about the ones you watched with your previous owner. “I know there’s popcorn and those swirly potato things, but I also know there are different merchants selling different items, and games with prizes. There are a variety of festivals too.”

“This one happens annually. San and I haven’t been there in a few years,” Mingi replied, his tail wagging behind him, just as excited. “Hopefully, the Tteokbokki lady is still there. Her stall is the best, in my opinion.”

Just then, Yunho came down the stairs, adjusting the sleeves of his outfit. He wore a black mock neck, a slightly oversized brown bomber jacket, and washed-out black denim jeans. 

“Are we ready?” Yunho called out through the house. Seeing that only you and Mingi were in the living room, he realized San was the only one missing. “San-ah?”

As if summoned, San emerged from his room wearing the turtleneck you recommended. “Now I am.”

“Great,” Yunho huffed. “It’s going to get colder tonight, so please—even if it seems redundant—put on a heavier coat over whatever you’re already wearing. And please, wear a scarf. I doubt any of you want to end up sick.”

Mingi stood up from the couch, gently letting go of your hands. “I don’t think I’ll be that cold. Plus, I’m usually hot.”

“And you’ll be the first one asking for a hot pack—put on the coat and scarf,” Yunho scolded playfully, scowling at the husky hybrid. Mingi couldn’t argue back, mostly because it was true.

As the three of you put on your coats and scarves, Yunho called a cab service to take you there. A sudden thought came to your mind.

“Wait… are there usually hybrids there? I don’t exactly want to be the odd one out,” you asked with genuine curiosity.

“Of course. There are even hybrids working there sometimes,” San confirmed, zipping up your jacket for you. “And besides, if it were strange, you wouldn’t be the only odd one out.”

Hearing that comforted you. While there are still people who find the concept of hybrids strange, most are accepting. The thought that there might be others at the festival made you excited to see all the different species that could be there.

Once you stepped out the door, you took a deep breath of the crisp late winter air. It’s been a while since you’ve been outside. The only times recently were to answer the door for Jongho, who came by earlier for another vocal lesson, and for Hongjoong, the day after your heat ended.

A van was waiting outside for the four of you, engine still running. You instinctively shifted closer to Yunho, making sure this was the right vehicle—it was. You climbed in and took the window seat, eager to watch the world go by and how much it had changed. Yunho sat beside you, while San and Mingi took the seats across. Soon after, the van drove off.

Pulling out his wallet, Yunho handed everyone some money to splurge at the festival, just in case they wanted to stray off and do their own thing. Turns out, he’d been setting it aside for nights like this, wanting everyone to fully enjoy the experience. San and Mingi started talking about the last time they were there, looking forward to the food more than anything else.

Meanwhile, you wanted to explore everything—but you especially wanted to win a prize of some sort, like you see in movies. Maybe not a goldfish, but even that would be cool.

The drive took about forty minutes. You realized you were slowly approaching when you began to see colorful lights and heard the sound of live music, mixed with laughter and muffled conversations. 

Once the van pulled up to the curb, you stepped out and were immediately met with the enticing aromas from nearby food vendors. But what truly grabbed your attention was the music. It pulled at you almost. 

Yunho wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck before looking down at you. “Ready?” 

You held onto his arm and nodded as you entered the festival together.

Behind you, you could hear San and Mingi pointing out new things they hadn’t seen before, making you glance back at what they were referring to. As you walked, you noticed hybrids all around—some working food stands or arcade games, others simply enjoying the festival with friends and loved ones. 

You took pictures of the sights that caught your eye: the glowing lights, the bustling vendor tables, and even a few off-guard shots of the three of them.

The first place you settled on was a merchant stall selling all types of jewelry and trinkets. Without warning, you gently lured Yunho along with you, and he chuckled at your eagerness.

“Hello, pretty kitty,” the older woman greeted you warmly. You gave a small bow and returned the greeting with a quiet ‘hello’. “Looking for anything in particular, or are you just browsing?”

“I’m just browsing. It’s my first time here,” you replied with a smile. She looked so cozy, bundled up in her coat and seated comfortably inside her tent. 

“Please, let me know if you need any assistance,” she added kindly, before leaving you to tend to other guests.

You browsed through the displays of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, trying to figure out what Yunho, San, and Mingi might like. Beside you, Yunho examined some trinkets, studying them like he was choosing a gift for someone as well.

“Yunho, do you like jewelry?” you asked, wanting to be sure before buying him something he might not wear.

“I do. Not often, but when I do, it’s usually simple pieces. Unless it’s for a dance stage—then I don’t have much of a say.” He held up two small figures, showing you the trinkets. “Do you think Yeosang and Wooyoung would like these?”

One of the trinkets looked familiar—a little Gryffindor statue from ‘Harry Potter’, a favorite series of your previous owner and Wooyoung. You remembered him raving about it for hours during your last video chat. You assumed the tiny, airplane-looking object was for Yeosang.

“What’s that?” You asked, referring to it.

“It’s a drone—it flies with a remote control. But this one doesn’t fly, it seems,” Yunho said, examining it closely. “Yeosang has a few drones that he flies sometimes. I thought this one was comically tiny, and he could keep it as a decoration in his room.”

Well, that made sense to you. “I think they’ll love them. It’s a gift from you, anyway.”

Yunho scrunched his nose slightly, appreciating the compliment. He made his way over to the merchant to purchase the trinkets, while you finally settled on what you wanted to gift them. 

You chose a ring for Mingi, a necklace for San, and a bracelet for Yunho. Mingi loves rings, so that was an easy decision. San was often in tank tops, and you thought a necklace would complement his frame well. As for Yunho, a bracelet seemed like a simple, everyday piece he could wear if he wanted.

However, when you went to pay for it, the merchant respectfully refused it. Your ears went down, perplexed. “It’s your first time here. Enjoy the festival.”

“O-oh, thank you then, miss.” You bowed to her again, bidding her farewell before meeting up with Yunho, who waited for you. “She didn’t let me pay for these…” You said, a bit surprised as you held up the small bag.

Yunho shrugged. “Maybe she was feeling generous. But hey, at least you still have some extra on you.”

You glanced around, scanning the crowd. “Where did San and Mingi go?”

Yunho turned both of you around, pointing toward a brightly lit Tteokbokki stall. “Last time they were here, they almost cleared the poor woman’s entire supply,” he said, watching as San and Mingi chatted animatedly with the vendor, their tails swaying with excitement. “I had to drag them away.”

The mental image made you giggle. They were always this silly. “Is it honestly that good?”

Mingi, meanwhile, seemed to be scanning the festival grounds, squinting as he searched for you. He really should’ve brought his glasses. When his eyes finally landed on you, he lit up and left San at the stall, making his way over with a small tray of Tteokbokki in hand. 

“This is the stall I was talking about—you have to try it,” Mingi implored, stabbing one of the rice cakes with a toothpick and offering it to you. 

You gladly took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before your eyebrows pulled together in exaggerated outrage. “How is this so good?”

“Right?!” he exclaimed, offering one to Yunho as well. 

As Mingi and Yunho bickered—Yunho voicing he did not wish for a repeat of last time—you walked over to where San sat, quietly enjoying his Tteokbokki. You stood beside him and gave him a small nudge. When he looked up at you, he silently stabbed a piece with his toothpick and offered it to you. You leaned in and ate it without hesitation.

“You like it?” he asked, and you nodded. 

Your gaze shifted to the famed stall vendor. She was extremely attractive, with a warm smile and a beautiful ring on her finger—she’s married. “Do you want more?”

You shook your head. “It’s great, but I’m craving something to drink.”

San spun in his seat, examining the festival thoughtfully. “There are fruit juices, hot chocolate, tea…”

“Hot chocolate sounds great right about now,” you thought, imagining how warm and sweet it would feel against the cold. 

San finished his last bit of food, stood up, and adjusted his long trench coat. “Let’s go.”

The two of you walked to the nearest hot chocolate stand, noticing that it was run by two people—one of whom appeared to be a hybrid.

The young man running the stand greeted you first. “Welcome. What can I help you with tonight?”

“Two hot chocolates, please,” San ordered with a dimpled smile. Once he entered it into the machine, San paid and stepped to the side with you to wait for the drinks. 

But something about the hybrid working behind him seemed oddly familiar. You hadn’t seen their face yet, and you couldn’t catch their scent, given the heavy mix of perfumes, food, pheromones, and smoke from cooking. It wasn’t until your drinks were ready that you finally realized who it was.

“Two hot chocolates for— oh…” The male cat hybrid suddenly became withdrawn. ”Two hot chocolates for San…”

You took one of the cups in your hand, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. The situation didn’t go unnoticed by San as he took his. 

“How have you been? It’s been a while…” the male hybrid inquired, glancing between you and San. He thought San was incredibly handsome—extremely well-built, too—with a stunning coat on his ears and tail that seemed to bring light to the darkness of the night. He thought the two of you looked great together.

“Fine. Perfect, actually,” you tapped the sides of your cup, unsure of what to say next. “And yourself?”

He shrugged. “Could be better. Living day by day…”

The silence and tension in the air felt claustrophobic, San could feel it deeply as he sipped his drink slowly. Maybe the guy was a friend from your previous clinic. From his perspective, you didn’t seem to have any animosity—nor did the other guy. Had you had a falling out?

Thankfully, the silence was finally broken when the younger man called the hybrid for the next few orders. The cat hybrid gave you a silent wave goodbye, allowing you to move on from the stall. 

You finally took a sip of the hot chocolate—it was more delightful than you’d expected.

“This is lovely,” you purred at the warm sensation spreading through your body with each sip. The sweet creaminess of the hot chocolate brought you sheer bliss.

“It is… but what was that about?” San’s ear flicked in curiosity.

The two of you walked along the path lined with other vendors. “He was my first heat hotel experience.”

San abruptly stopped in his tracks. “Really?” He glanced back, scanning every detail of the hybrid's face. The two of you walked along the path lined with other vendors. “He was my first heat hotel experience. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

“No… he’s not a bad guy, he just wasn’t… great either,” you said with a shrug, swirling your cup. “I’m sure there’s someone else out there who might want him, but he wasn’t for me. It was probably awkward because of what I told him the last time I saw him.”

“Oh? What was that?” San sipped his drink with curiosity. 

You chuckled to yourself, taking a slow sip. “Some things are just better left unsaid, unfortunately. I don’t want to hurt his feelings—especially if he’s not even listening.”

San let it rest, deciding not to press the issue. He noticed a bit of hot chocolate and whipped cream on your lip. Raising his index and middle finger phalanx, he gently pressed them to your lips to wipe it away. Then, bringing those fingers to his mouth, he kissed the spot where your lips had touched. The sudden romantic gesture made your face flush, a natural blush blooming on your cheeks.

“At least I know it’s transfer-proof,” San noted, referring to your lip tint that stayed on despite the hot chocolate.

As you continued walking with San, an arcade stand caught your eye. It was a familiar attraction, often seen in films: the balloon darts.

“Can we do that, please?” you asked, tugging his jacket sleeve. 

How could he say no when you were so intrigued? It just so happened to be a two-player game anyway, for safety measures. You both paid for your turns and collected the darts to throw. For each balloon popped, the size of your prize increased. You were determined to win—mainly because you wanted the big, fluffy purple bear you saw. You only needed to pop five balloons to win it. 

Once the merchant blew his whistle, you and San started throwing the darts, hoping to at least get three.

By the time you threw your last dart, you’d only managed to pop two, while San had popped four. One dart even popped two by accident, but it still counted. That made him the winner. You were happy for him regardless, clapping and cheering him on.

“Which one do you want?” he asked, looking at the prize selection.

“But you won,” you frowned.

“I know,” he smiled, his tail swaying behind him. “But I don’t need one. I was planning on giving you mine regardless. Please, choose.”

You picked the smaller version of the purple bear, pleased with your prize. You thanked the vendor and wrapped your arm around San’s as you continued walking.

“It's so pretty too, a gorgeous purple,” you commented, holding the plushie tightly in your other arm. “Thank you again. It was probably better that I didn’t get the bigger one, since we’re going to a restaurant after this.”

“They’d have to charge it as an extra guest if we did,” San said with a quip, making you laugh. “And you’re welcome.” 

You stopped by more vendors selling trinkets, deciding to buy something for Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Wooyoung as gifts. San helped you pick out items they might like, especially for Seonghwa. You felt like he deserved something extravagant, given how elegant he was. But San informed you that Seonghwa genuinely loves Legos and builds them during his free time. So, when you spotted a Lego set for tiny and medium plants, you had to get it. One of these days, you’ll drop it off.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” San asked, hands deep in his pockets, as you continued walking around.

“Thoroughly,” you replied, carrying the bag of items in your hand. “I never imagined that I’d ever come here. It seemed too distant.”

Even something as simple as a festival brought you joy, but San couldn’t help frowning, his expression tinged with sadness. When you glanced up at him, he quickly replaced it with another dimpled smile, not wanting you to worry. 

“We can do whatever you like from now on. Just say the word,” he promised, reaching for the bag you were carrying to hold it himself. 

Coincidentally, both of you bumped into Yunho and Mingi, who were playing a BB gun game where you shoot out a red star. Yunho was thoroughly entertained, exclaiming enthusiastically when he managed to carve it out. You and San stood behind them, watching in silence as it was Mingi’s turn. Except… Mingi…

“You missed…” Yunho started, standing in disbelief.

“Every single one,” San finished, stifling a laugh. It made Yunho and Mingi flinch slightly, surprised by your sudden appearance. 

Mingi squinted at San. “When did you even get here?”

“Just now. Y/n bought some things, and we bumped into you. Watched you lose too.”

You showed them your prize with exuberance. “San won this for me.”

Mingi shook his head. “I can’t accept this.” He was in denial, trying the same game again, determined to win something for you as well.

Yunho sighed, collecting his prize. “He’s been at this for three rounds now. There are so many other games out there.” He handed you his prize as well. It was a small, pink, round character with hot pink shoes and tiny arms. “This is Kirby, I’m sure you’ve seen him when the boys play their games.”

And you had, though you just never remembered his name. You’d often heard San complain about that character when they fought other people online—something about stealing powers and how it was unfair. 

“Thank you,” now you have two more plushies for your bed. 

Out of nowhere, you heard Mingi cheer, thinking he had finally won the game. That was until the vendor fully examined it and realized there was still a bit of red left on the star. 

“Hyung, please,” Mingi beseeched, trying to reason with the vendor, but the vendor was adamant that he had lost. His head hung low, along with his ears. “Sorry, I couldn’t get you one.”

You rubbed his arm, consoling him. “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just a plushie,” you reassured him. “Plus, there are many other games.”

“I know, but they’re closing up soon. I wanted to get you something before we left,” Mingi exhaled deeply. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do now.

“Unfortunately, I looked at the wrong time schedule. I should’ve made us come by a little earlier,” Yunho furrowed his brows. “Sorry if it wasn’t what you expected.”

”I had an amazing time, what do you mean?” you stated truthfully. “I got to spend time with the three of you, play, eat, and just enjoy being outside again. I had more fun than you think.” Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the smaller bag containing their gifts. “And I bought gifts.”

One by one, you gave them their designated pieces of jewelry, which they admired deeply. They were handmade pieces by the vendor herself, but you had put a lot of thought into which designs they’d like and chose them carefully.

“You don’t have to wear them now, but I wanted to get you all something,” you said proudly as you watched Mingi remove one of his favorite rings to slip yours on. Yunho and San followed, clipping on their jewelry pieces. 

“I’m going to wear this every day,” San said suddenly, his tone serious as he tucked the necklace under his jacket.

Yunho admired the simplicity of the bracelet and its beautiful metalwork. “This is gorgeous. Thank you.”

“Of course, of course,” you replied, waving off the compliments, though you felt like you might pass out under their endearing stares.

“I didn’t get you anything, and you still managed to get something for me. I promise I’ll find something you’ll like,” Mingi declared with conviction.

“You don’t have to… but cuddling seems lovely, doesn’t it?”

Suddenly, Mingi looked completely reenergized.

~~

All four of you finally arrived at the restaurant Yunho had chosen. A table had already been reserved, waiting for you. You slid into the corner of the booth, with San sitting beside you, while Mingi and Yunho settled across from you, removing their jackets. San took your bags and gifts, placing them beside him to give you more space to move around comfortably. 

As everyone sat and browsed the menus, you couldn’t help but admire the setting of the restaurant. The chandeliers cast a soft, sultry amber glow, creating a cozy ambiance throughout the space. From certain angles, the light glimmered gently, adding a touch of elegance.

Across the room, a bar stretched along the far wall, where people—some couples—sat chatting and indulging in each other's company. If you squinted, you could make out a few hybrids among the guests, and even some working as waiters, gracefully serving the guests. 

The seats were made of sturdy leather. You couldn’t tell the exact color due to the dim lighting, but you could only assume a dark brown, framed with deep reddish wood that held everything together. On your table, a small candle flickered with a soft flame. It smelled of vanilla—a scent that has become your favorite. You couldn’t help but take pictures of everything, sending them to Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“Hello, may I help you all with a drink to start?” A male waiter, dressed in slacks, a buttoned-down shirt, and a vest, approached the table with his hands behind his back.

“Yes, I’ll take a glass of red wine, please,” Yunho said with a gentle smile, then returned to browsing the menu.

“I’d like a glass of beer, please,” Mingi added.

You briefly glanced at the drink options, having not looked at them earlier. One caught your eye—a drink you’d often seen characters order in movies. You decided that you’d try it.

“A Shirley Temple, please.” You weren’t quite sure what it tasted like, but its sweet, scarlet appearance made it seem inviting.

“Virgin or dirty?” The waiter asked, jotting it down on his notepad.

You didn’t know whether to be offended or confused by the question. “Uhh… virgin?” you replied, hesitant.

The waiter simply hummed in acknowledgement and turned to San. “I’ll take a ginger ale, thank you.”

With a polite bow, the waiter left the table to prepare your drinks.

You leaned over to San, whispering in his ear, “What did he mean by virgin or dirty?”

Remembering that you’ve never had alcohol before, San couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at his lips. “Virgin means without alcohol, dirty means with alcohol.”

You mentally facepalmed for looking clueless. Hopefully, no one else at the table caught on to your naivety. “I knew that…” you muttered.

“Did you now?” San raised his eyebrows, his ears flicking with amusement.

“Yes,” you insisted—though you obviously didn’t. Every time they mentioned Shirley Temple in movies, you couldn’t recall anyone ever asking how the character wanted it. 

San patted your knee before turning his attention to the menu. You finally looked at yours as well, realizing just how hungry you were. Everything looked delicious—both from the descriptions and the pictures—yet you still couldn’t decide. You even tried peering over at what the other guests were eating, but it didn’t help. You still couldn’t tell what was what.

The waiter returned with the drinks, setting them down in front of each of you before pulling out his notepad again to take the orders. Yunho ordered an appetizer and salad for the table to share, then placed his order, followed by Mingi and San. Everything they chose sounded amazing—you might just steal a nibble or two. 

When it came to you, you settled for a lobster risotto, since you loved seafood. 

The male waiter collected the menus off the table and left once more, informing you that it should be ready in about twenty minutes.

You took a sip of the bright red drink, it was sweet and refreshing—almost addictive. 

“I wish we could make this at home,” you expressed aloud, not necessarily directing it at anyone in particular.

“We can—it’s only about three ingredients,” Yunho said, swirling his wine. He brought the glass to his nose, taking in the aroma before sipping lightly.

Curious about how wine tasted, you found yourself staring at his glass—and the way his fingers delicately held the stem. “May I… try some?”

Yunho nodded, carefully sliding the glass across the table to you. “It’s an acquired taste,” he warned with a soft smile, “so it’s understandable if you don’t like it.”

Taking that into consideration, you brought the glass to your nose and gave it a cautious sniff. Your tail lowered behind you, uncertain about the strong aroma that lingered beneath the fruity notes—but you sipped it anyway. 

It was undoubtedly acquired, alright. You weren’t sure if you liked it or disliked it. It was strong, slightly bitter, with a sweet finish that confused your palate. After a moment of indecision, you were confident that you didn’t want another sip, handing the glass back to Yunho.

Yunho chuckled, idly playing with the neck of the glass. “You’d have to get used to it. Of course, only if you choose to.”

Your gaze shifted to Mingi’s beer. Your ears twitched slightly as you watched him take a swig. He noticed you eyeing him—and his drink—and set the glass down on the table with a curious smile.

“You’re not going to like it—wine is tamer,” Mingi warned you, carding his fingers through his hair.

“You don’t know that,” you replied, though your tone held a hint of doubt, yet it couldn’t hurt to try.

Mingi slid the glass closer to you, gesturing to it. “By all means.”

You gladly took it, smelling this one too. There wasn’t a trace of sweetness in the scent; instead,  it had a sharp, acidic bite to it. Still, you took a sip—and immediately grimaced as you swallowed.

It was far more bitter than the wine, and lacked the sweetness of both your and Yunho’s combined. You weren’t a fan. Out of the two, you preferred the wine.

Mingi took the glass back from you, placing a hand over his chest as he cooed at your reaction. “I told you.”

You cleansed your palate with the Shirley Temple. “My goodness, does all alcohol taste like this?” You were suddenly rethinking your idea of going to a club for your birthday.

“No,” San chimed in. “There are better ones out there—sweeter ones,” he added, sensing your doubt. You found it hard to believe, especially since the wine had smelled sweet. “Fruitier, smoother options exist. But some people genuinely like the more bitter end of the spectrum.”

You sighed, realizing you had a lot to learn when it came to drinks. Still, it didn’t seem like something you’d dabble in often—maybe just socially. 

“Well, that’s what I get for being curious.” There was a lingering warmth from the alcohol, settling steadily in your chest.

San giggled. He felt the same way, especially since he’d done the same thing when he first tried alcohol. “It’s in our nature.”

Soon after, the food arrived. The savory aroma instantly made your mouth water—you were ready to devour everything. Before digging in, you took a picture of everyone’s dishes together. Then you served yourself a bit of the side salad to go with your risotto.

“I see you picked up photography,” Yunho noted, slicing a portion of his steak. “What made you suddenly want to?”

You played with your food, vaguely answering Yunho’s question. “For memories,” which was the truth. You saved the sentimental for later because you wanted to enjoy yourself tonight after a long while of being in your head. “I also like taking pictures of all of you, documenting my favorite characteristics.”

“Maybe next time, I can model for you,” San teased, lightly tapping you with his tail as he ate.

When you finally tasted the risotto, it was unlike anything you’d had before—literally. The texture was rich, creamy, velvety, with a buttery base that melted on your tongue. The lobster was remarkably fresh and plump, without the slightest trace of that overpowering fishiness some seafood carried. You were living right now. 

Mingi cut a piece of his steak, considering he and Yunho ordered the same entrée, and placed it on your plate to try.

“They taste amazing together,” Mingi said confidently—and you believed him.

You added a bit of risotto to the piece of steak and took a bite. Setting your fork down, you shook your head in disbelief. Maybe you were exaggerating… or maybe you were just that hungry—but everything tasted so good, it could’ve brought a tear to your eye. 

“This was a great restaurant choice,” you said, boosting Yunho’s ego just a little. 

Watching the plans fall into place so perfectly made his heart warm. 

You ate, talked, and shared your meals with another. Yunho and Mingi had gotten another refill of their drinks, sipping slowly as they digested. The conversation drifted to plans of returning to the festival before it ended—checking out the vendors you’d missed and trying the games you hadn’t gotten to yet. 

Mingi was especially adamant about bringing you the biggest plushie they had, especially since you wouldn’t be heading to a restaurant afterward. He was also looking forward to cuddling with you once you reached home. 

As the chatter continued, you politely excused yourself to the restroom to wash your hands, following the posted signs. In the mirror, you were relieved to see your hair still in place. You applied a touch more lip tint to revive the color, blending it with your ring finger. You also took a moment to smooth out the fur of your ears and tail, just enough to feel more put-together before returning to the table.

On your way back, you passed by a nearby table—your steps faltering when you heard a familiar name. One you hadn’t heard in a while. 

You were going to keep walking… until you heard his voice.

It was unmistakable. It was truly him. You were almost certain.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him—your old owner's grandson. He was seated at a nearby table, surrounded by what you thought was his wife and grandchildren. 

Seeing him again after the last few months broke your heart. His hair had grown grayer, and though he looked genuinely content with his family, you could still see the subtle tinge of sadness in his eyes. 

You realized too late that you’d been staring. Long enough for him to notice—long enough for your eyes to meet. You should’ve walked away when you had the chance. But instead, you froze in place.

“Y/n?” he called softly. He still remembered your name. That was nice…

Your ears flattened instinctively against your head as you finally faced him, your tail curling protectively around your waist. You gave an awkward, meek bow in greeting, feeling like you were intruding on a private family moment. He whispered something to his wife before rising from his seat and walking toward you. 

“I’m so glad to know that you’re still okay,” he frowned, even as relief filled him. “I was worried sick about you after you ran off. Why did you run?”

You hesitated. There was no easy way to explain it without sounding foolish, but you answered it anyway. “I didn’t want to be brought back… to the clinic. So I left.”

He shook his head, exhaling gently. “You silly girl,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug and rubbing your back. “I haven’t seen you in months… I searched everywhere for you.”

Meanwhile, back at the table, Yunho finished off his second glass of wine, pushing the empty glass aside with a light clink. He checked the time, his brows furrowing slightly. You’d been gone longer than expected. At first, he assumed you were just touching up or taking your time. But as several minutes passed, he thought you might’ve gotten lost or something. 

“Um, Hyung,” Mingi got Yunho’s attention, nodding toward the direction you’d gone. San also peered over, all of them now observing the interaction unfolding between you and an older man. “Who is that?”

Yunho tilted his head slightly, trying to figure out if he knew the male himself. “I have no idea. Maybe he’s asking her—” His words cut off the moment he saw the man pull you into a hug.

 Yunho almost stood up, ready to intervene—until he saw you hug the man back. 

“I see…” he murmured, receding into his seat.

San’s ears twitched slightly. “Do you know who he is?” 

“No, but I can only make an educated guess,” Yunho said, his acumen allowing him to analyze the situation quickly. “We should give them a moment.”

“She’s bumping into everyone today, huh?” San remarked, resting his chin in his palm as he continued watching you. 

Yunho wore a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?” 

Mingi mirrored his confusion, his ears perked to the sky.

San leaned back in his seat. “While we were walking around the festival, we stopped for hot chocolate. One of the people running the stand turned out to be her first heat hotel experience.” San elaborated, voice getting softer. “It was something… just shows how small the world is.”

Mingi sat up straighter, moving his empty glass aside. “What happened? Did she say anything about him? Was he being weird?” he inquired.

San shook his head. “No, he seemed more like an introverted guy. Kind of shy. As for what she said, she didn’t want to talk about it. Just said some things were better left unspoken.” 

Yunho and Mingi quietly respected your wishes, even if curiosity poked at them.

They watched as you slowly let go of the older man, turning to glance over at the table they were sitting at, gesturing to them from where you stood. Yunho waved at both of you, and San and Mingi followed suit, though they were still a bit confused about the unknown man. The older man waved back politely, reassuring that he meant no harm.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” the older male patted your back. “You’ve found your new family now.” He offered a warm, if slightly wistful, smile. “But please… keep in touch. You can visit us—and visit Grandma’s grave sometimes. You have my number.”

“I will, I promise.” There was a slight glossiness in your eyes, catching the chandelier’s warm light. “Please, stay healthy. And…  I’m sorry for giving you so much trouble for these last few months.”

He waved it off. “My heart can finally rest now. I’m just glad you’re still with us.”

Hearing his words tugged at your heartstrings, especially with your mental state at the time Yunho found you. If you had gone through with your plans back then, he would’ve never known what happened to you. He would’ve spent the rest of his life wondering, weighed down by regret. 

That thought alone made your chest tighten.

You gave him one last, long hug goodbye. You could visit him, but you weren’t ready yet. 

Everything still felt like an open wound that was just beginning to heal. Still, you knew in your heart that you were going to see him and Grandma again. When you were ready

As you walked back, your head stayed low, discreetly wiping away the tears threatening to fall. 

Yunho had told San and Mingi to look away, to act like they hadn’t seen anything—hoping to spare you any discomfort. But their acting skills were… less than convincing. You stood in front of the table, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Um… I’m ready to go home now,” you said softly, your voice catching with a small sniffle. “If that’s alright.” 

Yunho's expression softened into a frown. “Of course. We can leave now. But… are you okay?”

You greeted them with a genuine smile, eyes still glassy with unshed tears. At a glance, it may have looked like sadness, but you were genuinely filled with happiness. 

You loved your new life. You loved that your old owner's grandson didn’t resent you for leaving. Instead, he understood and sympathized with your choice. After you opened up and cleared the air, he told you that, in your place, he would’ve done the same. So no… these weren’t tears of grief.

They were tears of peace.

“I couldn’t be any better.”

[acourtofthought]

Sure, SJM included information on how certain bonds aren't well matched but why do people read that excerpt and stop there? Since when are single lines meant to be taken as the only evidence that someone needs when trying to build an intelligent argument?

We are told that the bonds that are poorly matched are ones given to a pairing that are not ideal in spirit. They are not an indication of true, paired souls.

Let's think on what the author has told us about Elain and Lucien as individuals. Lucien suffered extreme cruelty and violence at the hands of his brothers and father yet learned to keep his cool. He vomited at the sight of the fairies wings (or lack thereof) because of what happened to Jesminda. While he is trained as a warrior, he does not prefer that life and said that he hopes he never has to fight in another battle as long as he lives. Compare all that to the Inner Circle who has no issues torturing their enemies in extremely creative ways. Az and Rhys who did not "keep their cool" when it came to Az's step-brothers, or the Attor. Az when it came to Eris's soldiers or Cassian when it came to those who played any part in what happened to his mother. Cassian and Az who continue their training as warriors and train others (perpetuating the cycle of battle / war). Even Nesta when it came to Hybern when she decided to cut off his head and stood there staring at it. Which of the above does Elain's "spirit" most closely match? Elain who is absolutely willing to save those she loves but is still bothered by cruelty. Elain who returned TT and walked away without looking back. Elain who made Feyre swear not to harm Graysen no matter what. Elain who has been rejected by two different guys yet never did anything cruel in retaliation, she didn't even raise her voice to either one. Let's also consider the author's own words. It's fine to say, "they don't need to end up together just because of an interview!" but why would Sarah lie about what Elain and Lucien enjoy? "They are pretty much happy to be out in nature the most." Not only do we have the interview where she says the above but the books support it what with evidence of Lucien having had a campsite, with his ease at killing and cleaning fish, with the references to his hunting, with the mentions of him glowing under the sunlight, with him looking as if he were crafted from the forest. And of course we know that Elain is our resident Earth Goddess as she's a gentle grower of things who looks alive when out in her gardens, who believes the world needs more of them, who is always sitting by the sunniest windows as if any bit of darkness is abhorrent and for whom Night Court black sucks the life out of. Have we been given any confirmation that Az is at ease out in nature? That he embodies the great outdoors? That he comes alive under the sun? Quite the contrary actually as we're told only one single shadow was brave enough to face it and the shadows are as much a part of Az as Az himself. Sure he listened to Elain talk about her gardens but has he ever gone out to help her because he also enjoys it? (And no, sitting outside in the sun one time with Elain does not equal enjoyment of nature, that's like telling a sunbather at the beach they enjoy nature as much as someone who enjoys hiking the Appalachian Trail and has a Rewards Card at REI and Bass Pro Shop). Lucien and Elain both readily apologize whereas I think the only person Az apologized to was Nesta in a different series. Lucien and Elain are quick to let go of past prejudices where Az hangs on to them like his favorite blankie. Lucien and Elain are both affectionate and forthcoming with praise for their friends and family where Az is often reserved and stoic. Lucien and Elain are also both fairly humble where Az is definitely not, he's fairly arrogant at times.

So really, when Elain and Lucien's core values match on a much deeper level than what we see compared to Elain and any other character, how can anyone doubt that their bond is one that is matched in spirit? That they are one another's other half, a mirror reflection? That doesn't necessarily mean they have to end up together but I don't think anyone can argue that they wouldn't be well matched. Therefore constantly referring back to the discussion Feyre and Rhys had only further supports why Elain and Lucien were give a truly matched bond and why her personality is much more suited to Lucien than Az.

[liedownquisition]

Hi, Hello, and welcome to:

Snowbirds Don't Fly is Kind of Good, Actually, and You Should Read it and Rethink Your Biases About The Story It's Telling You

By yours truly.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: now like a lot of people who read older comics, I do have my beefs with dear ol' Denny, but there are a handful of things that your criticism starts to teeter into more than a little bit of a red flag. I'm going to discuss why that is, alongside why I think more people need to learn the core message of this arc.

I HIGHLY encourage people to read Green Lantern/Green Arrow #85-86, which depending on where you read might just be listed as part of the Green Lantern (1960) series because it is in fact technically part of that.

And when you do so I want you to actually read what's being said in the comic, in particular I want you to read Roy's lines. Because it is so, so important to acknowledge that, as a whole, this particular arc SIDES WITH HIM. Which is, honestly incredible.

Like, guys, I'm not going to say you're wrong when you say this is an anti-drugs PSA. I'm saying that if you read this comic and saw it only as an avenue for the "War on Drugs" then I'm not sure you really processed some of the messages in this comic. Because most War on Drugs propaganda is NOT interested in empathizing with the addicts in question, and encourages isolating them ("Just say no, and stop hanging out with people like that" being a familiar refrain from school assemblies over the years.)

Listen, I'm American, I've been having anti-drug PSAs preached at me my whole life. War on Drugs all around me. Grew up in somewhat poorer neighborhoods, literally was told to my face by multiple people that they were surprised how well I turned out because they thought that despite everything I was going to grow up to become a "drug whore." I'm not fucking joking about that one. I had family members say that to me, even.

Anyways, just, keep that in mind. I grew up around dealers and addicts and I have a lot of feelings about their portrayals in media. This whole thing was originally going to be part of a different media but it's probably best to split it up this way anyways.

TW: Slurs, drugs (obviously)

SO, without further ado,

Dennis O'Neil, in addition to comics, has a background in Journalism and some investment in social activism. He actively stated that he thought that he could use this in his comics, especially because, at the time, Green Lantern comics were potentially getting cancelled so he had a bit more freedom to do whatever he wanted. Basically, if it flopped in a probably-cancelled comic anyways, nobody had anything to lose. Think something along the lines of that Flinstones Comic by Mark Russel and Steve Pugh.

Ignore the goddamned cover, it's sensationalist and meant to get your attention, and it does the job. READ the WORDS. The above image is straight off the first page of the book. O'Neil takes off running with the utmost of compassion for the addicts in question, emphasizing their humanity, their mistreatment, and their suffering.

Now, lets be realistic with ourselves: Not every addict is so nobly tragic* as are depicted in Adams & O'Neil's story, but if you've heard people talk about addicts, both then and now, you'd know that it really does mean a lot that they come into this from an empathetic angle. *Yes I'm aware that I called them "nobly tragic" despite actively betraying Ollie & Hal and helping to drug them & leaving them to get caught by the cops while drugged up. Though they do express some hesitation at different parts along the way. The fact of the matter is people often ascribe a certain "nobility" to "victims" that they have enough distance from - whether by them being fictional or by not knowing them personally or changing their narratives after people's deaths to support themselves. in real life it's not uncommon for victims to be unpleasant to be around, they can also be perfectly pleasant people. They're human, and humans cover the whole range of personality and experience. Even if they are not "noble" & even if you do not have that distance, they deserve dignity.

Now, while our first introduction to the addicts (who we don't immediately know are that) they are trying to mug Ollie for money for dope (the dope part is implied). The second time we're introduced to one, however...

We are immediately thrust into the struggle of: quitting. Not using, but how difficult it is to quit. That's the worst part. This won't be the last time we discuss this.

Now, this is an arc where we see Green Arrow, who's typically the more liberal voice voice to Hal's politically neutral straight man, but I have to admit that as a Flawed Ollie enjoyer, I like to see him make a mistake, and he makes a LOT of them here. He is, in particular, harsher with the kids than he should be, and he holds a very very common position of seeing addicts simultaneously as "victims" of their dealers, while also refusing to sympathize with them.

The world is hard for everyone, why can't they Just Say No?

Up to this point, we're looking at pretty standard War on Drugs-style propaganda. But near the end of the story in #85 and for the bulk of #86, this is where I'm going to flat out say that the most important voice in this entire comic, is Roy's.

Roy doesn't at any point hesitate to stand up for himself (verbally) and call his generally well-meaning guardian out for his bling hypocrisy and ignorance. We see that neglect and loneliness led him here, but lets go back a bit and look at the reasons from a few of the other addicts:

Discrimination, cruelty, a need for an "escape." Any even mildly sympathetic media will have addicts explain that's their motivation, and I worry sometimes that people hear this and don't process it, because it's only one part of the circumstances that lead them there. the War On Drugs not only took the people who needed the "escape" the most and shoved at them a bad "solution" then imprisoned and profited off them.

From here we go back into Green Arrow's flawed logic:

He's a good, flawed man. He's like many parents who bring up their kids a certain way, a way they think is right perhaps because it's not unlike how THEY were brought up and absolutely missing the ways that they're harming them. Ollie will eventually see the error of his ways and regret these mistakes, but they're very common and very mundane flaws for him to have.

Alright, I'll admit I included this page mostly because that composition makes me giddy. Like, holy SHIT that's gorgeous. And now we are once again introduced to the idea of the struggle we were shown at the beginning: Quitting Cold Turkey.

It's extremely painful. It's dangerous. It could potentially even kill you as sure as the dope does. This is not something for everyone, and definitely not something to handle alone, which Hal himself expresses some uncertainties over, before inquiring what led Roy to this.

Is he wrong? Are the things he's saying any less true now than they were back then?

Even now there is plenty of pro-war propaganda (Just the other day I overheard someone talking about how their grandfather was in a war "Not World War 2, but one of the other Good Ones."). Even know there's lots of explicit and implicit racism that is treated as if it's justified and really MEANS anything about our humanity (Immigration/border control/ect). Even now we have people who believe that wealth is a measure of a man's worth to society or that it makes them inherently better (... I mean, I don't think I have to explain this one).

Hell, this doesn't even touch on gender (Whether discussing strictly feminism or if it's a trans issue) or sexuality or ableism (Whether physical or mental). Do you know how many people I've heard tell me they won't go to a therapist because they don't want to be reliant on a drug that might get prescribed to them? (ignoring the distinction between different branches of the psych field here, they never know the difference)

These are all things that get parroted to kids. We've seen the rising resurgence of gender essentialism, we've SEEN the rise of neo-nazi-ism, and TERFdom, and all these extremist views and movements and they ALL originate in the exact same place.

"What does that have to do with drugs?"

It's the same story. They're dismissed, they're disdained, they're not treated as equal living and learnign human beings. They are TOLD but they are not EDUCATED and they aren't treated with the kind of respect that leads them to think that they can even believe adults when they ARE being taught.

That neglect will be filled, whether by ideological groups preying on the vulnerable or by drugs or something else.

And here we meet our villain. We see society tossing the children away... and a man profiting off their despair. A CEO of a pharmaceutical company, even. Though, that's not really revealed until a few pages later.

... I'm so obsessed with this page you guys have no idea.

Our villain could have been a foreigner, a slumlord, a stereotypical drug kingpin, but it's not. It's a man with an abundance of wealth and a pristine reputation. A man so well known that he's on TV.

Denny O'Niel may or may not have known about the deliberate efforts to put drugs into black communities and prosecute them for them, but he clearly did see that the root of the issue was NOT someone among them, but something that someone else who could exploit them was bringing down to them.

Bringing this back to the dismissal of the youth and Roy's voice being the single-most important one in the story. Roy explicitly states that he only made it because he had support. Kicking a habit when you're on your own isn't impossible, but it's sure as hell not that far off. And, as I've mentioned, going "cold turkey" can also be deadly.

Now, yes, we have managed to create pharmaceuticals that can be useful for getting people off the harder drugs, and sometimes you can even find it for fairly "cheap"... but in our current day and age I don't think I should have to explain how predatory "Big Pharma" (and the health insurance industry) tends to be for those who have a need.

Like many things these days, even something like a rehab center is an industry - largely for profit, and the ones that aren't are often religiously and ideologically motivated. Even THOSE have issues that many result in incredibly dehumanizing conditions. (I was trying to find an article I read a while back including a few interviews from people discussing the conditions and treatment they faced while in rehab to link here, but I can't seem to find it. Must've gotten lost in all my other links and bookmarks.)

Despite there being places online you can look for how to spot a bad rehab center, the fact that these places will continue to exist with bad treatment methods and a complete lack of regulation and many people fall prey to them especially because they don't know to look for this stuff remains. Even still, and this particular one might be a bit outdated, It's not fully understood how best to treat addiction, especially since the one thing we do know of for absolute certain is that it has to be judged on a case-by-case basis. Though there have been good outcomes recently using MORE.

Social stigma and discrimination Including in media and news journalism plays a huge role in perpetuating these systems. And most people have this mentality of thinking it can be "cured", rather than being a chronic disorder with a management system. Here's another page discussing addiction treatments. Have I made my point yet?

My point is that this comic only reads as war on drugs propaganda if you're only listening to Ollie, who is FREQUENTLY being challenged on this throughout the entire arc by every person around him. Ollie in this is someone who has heard and fully bought into the propaganda, despite being a good person who typically tries to help those in need, He Is Not Immune To Propaganda.

There is a reason that this comic starts with a statement emphasizing that the story is about humans being mistreated, and ends with Roy calling Ollie out.

Ollie comes away from this with a changed perspective. It's not outright stated at this point but it's strongly implied because of how proud he is at the end there, and the ways he tries to repair his relationship with Roy down the line without (mostly) being too overbearing.

I would definitely say the worst part of this comic is that the solution our "hero" (Roy) uses is going cold turkey, which is a miserable, godawful, and dangerous experience. I will allow some forgiveness because it's likely that better addiction treatments weren't well understood back then.

So, in conclusion, Denny O'Neil is not without faults, but if you're issue with his works are "He wrote one of the most human-focused anti-drug propaganda pieces of his time, if not also compared to a lot of our time as well" or "He incorporated a lot of social justice topics into his comics" then I genuinely think you need to reevaluate yourself. Maybe he's a little heavy-handed with it, but have you SEEN people's reading comprehension even TODAY?

Sometimes a heavy hand reminding you that other people are human too, and you need to face the "ugliness" of our society and how it treats them and how YOU treat and think about them is the kind of kick in the ass people need.

I'm not even mad that they used Roy, because nobody is above addiction - not even a hero. It doesn't ruin him, because addicts aren't ruined. It's interesting and dynamic. If later writers take this history and write dehumanizing storyline that frame Roy as the villain of his own addiction, that's their biases, not the original story.

Anyways, ending this on my favorite moment that's not fully relevant but not irrelevant, from Justice League of America (2006) #7: