#also i forgot how much i loved this brush i might go back to this one for proper drawings

[little-red-fool]

Ok, I have a vision: Higgs in casual dad vibe clothes. I want to see this cyborg man in some dad fashion. Baseball cap with sunglasses on the brim, with maybe a hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts? Maybe he's going to a neighborhood bbq with sam and lou, idk. Maybe the Venom: LTBC fugitive/end credits beach scene look. (We are going to Mexico/Central America in DS2 after all) But, I'll leave that up to you. But most of all I NEED to see this boy in birkinstocks/sandals and socks, its mandatory for me. I just gotta see what he looks like in em

Average Southern cyborg father.

[cursingtoji]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep up with that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t ya?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used the honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just waiting for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

[lulunothulu]

“Jealousy, jealousy” pt. 2

Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

@86laura11: Oh my gosh. I want more. What’s next? Does Kate apologize to her friend? Does Tyler take her on a real date? I need to know.

Summary: After a night of pizza and talking, Tyler finally asks you out on a proper date—asking Kate to help you get ready.

Content: just cute fluff

Part one

Both you and Tyler finished off the pizza he brought in under thirty minutes, realizing you both skipped dinner. Now, sprawled across your bed, you and Tyler look up at the popcorn ceiling.

“That was really good,” he tells you. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

You groan. “I think I might burst.”

Tyler laughs, propping himself on one arm and facing you. Your hair was down—strew around your head like sun rays—and your face content.

You were goddamn beautiful.

“So I have a question,” Tyler starts.

You turn to face him, almost surprised that he’s as handsome up close as he was far away. You couldn’t believe this was happening, much less that he had something to ask you.

“What is it?” You respond, propping yourself on your elbow, the same way Tyler did.

“Well…I was wonderin’,” he starts, southern drawl catching on his tongue. “Would you maybe…whenever you’re free…wanna go out on a date with me?”

Your heart began to pound on your chest. Excitement and joy bubble up your spine and you smile at Tyler widely.

“Yes, I’d love that.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” He asks.

“I’m sure Javi and Kate wouldn’t mind if I skipped out tomorrow,” you tell him.

Tyler’s eyes widen, he forgot about Kate. What if you were still mad at her for what she did?

“Let me text them,” you tell him.

You:Guys….

Kate:Y/N…?

Javi:Are you okay?

You:Jake just asked me out…

Kate: HOLY SHIT HE FINALLY DID IT.

You: wait… you knew?

Kate: why tf do you think I was talking to him?

Javi: do I have to be here for this?

You: yes.

Kate: YES.

You: Kate, can you come over after the leaves in a bit? Also is it okay if I skip out tomorrow, Javi?

Kate: Sounds good.

Javi: Sure

You turn to Tyler who’s still watching you with a smile and feel the blush creep up.

“They, uh, said it was alright to skip out,” you tell him.

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sounds good, Sweetheart.”

He rolls off the bed, standing in front of you to help you up. With his hand offering to help you, you take it and are swiftly hoisted up to your feet.

Tyler pulled you too hard though, because you feel yourself crashing into his hard chest. You look up at him, startled. He looks down at you, amused.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at 11,” he tells you, kissing your cheek before walking toward your door.

You’re still vibrating from his kiss when you realize something.

Did he say 11 as in, 11 AM?

“11 AM?” You ask.

Tyler just nods, winking your way and walking out the door.

Not even a minute later, your door rattles as someone knocks on your door.

You smile, walking toward the door and swinging it open to find Kate standing there, excitedly beaming at you.

“Oh my god! He just came from your room!” She beams.

“Yeah,” you say. “We had pizza for dinner.”

You let her in, watching as she takes a deep breath before turning around to face you. Her face is now riddled in remorse, brows furrowing together.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “About making you cry.”

You wave her off. “It’s fine, I’m about to start my period soon. I’m just hormonal.”

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“I mean, the plan was to get me jealous. And it worked,” you laugh. “It worked big time.”

Kate smiles at you before shaking your head and pulling you into a hug. “I really am sorry.”

You hug her tightly. “It’s okay, really. How could I stay mad at you when I have a date with Tyler tomorrow morning?”

She pulls you back, smile back on her face mixed with confusion. “Morning?”

You only shrug.

———

The next morning, Tyler’s up bright and early.

10 AM to be exact.

He wanted to be ready for your date aaaand he still needed to get your number.

As quietly as he can, Tyler tiptoes to the motel door he and Boone share before opening it and sneaking out. He walks toward Javi’s room, knocking when he arrives.

Javi answers the door, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Sorry, can I have Y/N’s number?” He asks.

“Did you forget to ask last night?” Javi smiles.

Tyler’s about to respond, but stops when he hears, “Javi? Who’s at the door?”

From behind Javi walks Kate, wearing one of Javi’s shirts. Tyler’s brows raise, a smile forming on his lips.

“You and Kate?” He asks.

“Here’s her number,” Kate smiles, handing him a piece of paper with your number on it.

Tyler smiles, waving them goodbye before checking his watch.

10:20 AM.

He figured he would go to the diner across the street for some coffee before texting you.

Tyler walks into the diner, surveying the place before stopping when he finds you sitting in the booth in the back.

You’re wearing a lilac sundress and your hair cascades around your shoulders as you sip your coffee.

Tyler approaches, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Well, what brings you here?”

You look up at him and he could’ve sworn you looked even more beautiful than normal.

Your cheeks are rosy, face covered in light makeup that accentuates your already gorgeous face, and your lips are a natural pinky color.

“Wow,” he gawks. “You—you look just…wow.”

You smile up at him and he could’ve sworn he melted away.

“Thank you,” you respond, your sweet voice singing into his ears.

Tyler clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

You nod, slipping out of the booth and watching as Tyler tosses some bills on the table.

“Let’s get out of here, sweetheart.”

———

Tyler drove you almost an hour away into a small town full of Gilmore Girls-esque house and people.

“I cannot believe you just found this random town,” you marvel.

You’d both been walking around town after a quick brunch at a local diner.

Tyler’s hand kept brushing against yours as you walked, looking at all the shops.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “I’d seen it a few days ago and thought it would be a great place to just walk around with you.”

You glance up at him, a smile already on your lips.

“You’ve been planning this for days?”

Tyler looks down at you, stopping to face you completely. He’s wearing his white cowboy hat, his signature flannel, and jeans paired with boots. He looks normal but different at the same time.

Yet, he’s taking your breath away.

“I have been,” he admits. “I’ve been planning this for longer than then to be honest.”

“How long?” You ask.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Since the first day I met you.”

“That was almost a month ago!” You laugh.

He only shrugs. “I knew what I wanted the moment you scowled at me from the back seat of your truck.”

You laughed, remembering how he had driven next Javi trying to beat you all in getting to a tornado. You remember his eyes on you and your scowl when he winked at you.

“I knew you’d be a tough one to crack after that,” he finishes. “When did you know you liked me?”

You grab his hand in yours, feeling the roughness of the callouses on his palm.

“That night when you came to apologize for stealing the tornado out from under us,” you reply.

Tyler laughs. “Yeah, I guess that must’ve sweetened the sour feelings you had about me.”

“Even more so when you told Scott off for yelling at Javi, Kate, and I,” you admit.

After Tyler stole the tornado from you guys, Scott was a raging mess. Angry that Javi didn’t drive fast enough, Kate for not sending the second one you could’ve gone after, and you for not seeing it on the radar.

Tyler walked right up to Scott, telling him to back off and you could’ve sworn your heart grew four times its size that night.

“Yeah,” he smiles, reminiscing on the argument. “I couldn’t let him talk down to my girl.”

You smile up at him. How could you have gotten so lucky?

“Well, I’m glad you did,” you whisper, watching as something clicks behind Tyler’s eyes.

His eyes search yours before falling to your lips. “Y/N—”

“Yes,” you simply say.

“I didn’t even get to—”

“Tyler just kiss me,” you order.

Tyler chuckles, pulling you into him and lifting you to his level. “Alright, Sweetheart.”

Lips connect with yours, sweet and soft. They move, urging to get to now every inch of them while you allow yourself to relax in Tyler’s arms.

When Tyler’s stubble tickles your nose, sending you into a little fit of giggles, he pulls away.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, still smiling.

“Your stubble tickles,” you laugh.

“I can shave tonight.”

You oil him back into your lips, pecking softly and then pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Only pulling away to smile at him.

“Don’t you dare.”

[astraystayyh]

Invisible Thread- two.

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

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

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

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

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

word count: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you like to go camping?"

"With you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should go with them."

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am."

"Are you, really?"

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

"You’re clearly not fine and I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

The first time you felt loved, truly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, we’ll stay the night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✹✹✹

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"37," he replies instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mm, the heartthrob of campus."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lead him to the bathroom and he follows silently. He's so compliant in your hands as if all the energy in his body was sucked out of him. "Bad day?" you ask, as you peel away his blue hoodie.

"Very." He says, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay. You're here now," you try to keep your voice just as quiet as you take off the rest of his clothes. You undress quickly as well, before pulling you both to the shower.

Minho rests his forehead on your back, as you check the water temperature. When it's warm enough to feel soothing on his skin, you pull him underneath the jet, and you both stand in there for a while. His head hung low, now buried in the crook of your neck; his breaths growing slower, more even.

"You did well, my Minho," you say, voice threatening to get lost in the sound of the water hitting the tiles, but Minho catches it. He tightens his hold on you in response.

Minho can feel you reaching over and grabbing something from the rack behind him. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo as you pour it in your hands, before lathering it gently on his hair. He almost starts crying right there and then, as your fingers skillfully massage his scalp. You are everywhere, pressed to his body and your hands in his hair, and your cherry scent that’s washing all over him. And the outside world suddenly seems so far away.

You rinse off the shampoo, before grabbing your conditioner and threading it through his hair, making sure that every strand is evenly covered. He shuts his eyes closed, as your hands move to his neck and start massaging it. He's so sore from all the dancing, tired from the studying he has to catch up on. But you’re making him feel okay now, as you unravel his nerves without uttering a word. How do you do it? He wants to ask; how do you always paint his world blue?

Your hands are trailing over his body now, not sensually, just easing the knots in his muscles. You're spreading body wash all over him, and his eyes are still closed, as he feels you place tender kisses on his soapy skin. ‘I love you', your voice reaches him like a faraway lullaby, 'you've been working so hard', 'I'm proud of you'; and your comforting words morph into hot tears lodged into his waterline, begging for an escape.

You finally turn the water off, before pulling him outside and wrapping a towel around his waist. He sits idly on the edge of the bed, as you quickly put on your clothes, before walking over to him. You help him wear his pajamas, the ones he's left in your apartment since he often stays the night. He can't move a limb, but you're doing it in his place- as if the life in you was blown into him, and he's only breathing thanks to you.

Once you’re both fully clothed, you sit behind Minho on the bed, legs on either side of his body. You grab a towel you warmed in advance and begin to gently dry his hair with it, patting each strand with care. As soon as you're done, Minho turns around, nestling his head against your stomach. You let him, hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"I already told you, but I'm very proud of you," you say, head lowered so he'd be able to hear you. "I'm so amazed by your strength and hard work. You inspire me a lot, Min. Just keep on going, and if you need a break, you can rest by my side, okay?" You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

"I love you," you add softly, and Minho tightens his hold on you. And then he crumbles. Completely.

He falls apart in your arms, painful sobs racking through his body. You panic, as the unfamiliar sounds knock your breath away. You've seen Minho cry before, single tears that managed to escape from his eyes, trailing on his cheeks. But you've never seen him so shattered, so consumed by his pain that he could no longer contain it. You’re caught in his storm, as uncharted waves of his hurt crash against your shores. Has he been hurting all along? Were you this oblivious to the pain brewing inside him?

Your body’s shaking as you press your chest to his back, your arms cocooning his curled-up figure. You try your best to shield him; you don't know from what exactly, but you know it has to go through you first to get to him again.

"I'm so- sorry you have to see me this way," he hiccups, his words digging their claws deeper into your chest.

"Don't say that, baby, please. It's okay, you can cry as much as you want. I'm here."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, voice quivering, and you can feel your heart slowly cracking, hurting in depths you haven't thought existed before.

"Minho, I don't- I don't only love you when you're happy. I love you when you're angry and frustrated and when you're sad. You deserve kindness and you deserve to be kind to yourself because you are still Minho. My Minho. No matter what emotion you're feeling."

"Please stay with me," he pleads softly, and you bite your lower lip, as traitorous tears escape your eyes and land on his shirt. "Where would I go, love? You're my home. I'm here."  

✹✹✹

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

The thought that's been reverberating within your mind, echoing since the moment Minho crumbled in your embrace.

Selfish. 

Of course you are, since you remained oblivious to his own struggles as he slowly chipped away, until he shattered unexpectedly. Akin to a seemingly sturdy building, struck by a minor vibration and suddenly reduced to ruins.

Selfish. 

Each time you sought solace in him, you failed to realize that he was stripping away his layers to shelter you. You took and took from him, each time you called, each time he came over to brush away your tears. Your endless bad days didn't leave room for his struggles, unperceived amidst your turmoil.

Selfish and horrible. You weren't made to be loved. 

Minho is sleeping right next to you. He looks peaceful, endearing bunny-like teeth peeking through slightly parted lips. He's undisturbed, like a placid river, until someone selfishly decides to skip some stones in it- you. 

His chest rises and falls, erasing all remnants of his previous breakdown, like a scripture on sand washed away by the waves. You could almost forget it ever happened if it wasn't for the persistent echoes of his sobs. Raw pain had seeped through him, yet it could have been different. If you had asked more, he might have unraveled slowly. He would have talked and he would've never had to explode. 

Selfish and guilty. There's a bitter taste in your mouth. It doesn't go away when you hastily gulp down water.

You'll keep your problems to yourself. There is enough for him to bear already. By sharing your load, you aren't diminishing it, only adding more to his. 

You can't let your mother be right. Not about this. Not when it comes to Minho. You can't ruin his life too. 

✹✹✹

You are being distant. 

Minho notices it straight away when you stop coming over to his dorm. When you find excuses to not come to Limbo anymore, accounting it for the exams you're both taking. But he knows it's just excuses. You are straying away from him. Your light that shone on him every day suddenly turned into a distant lighthouse beam. 

And it's his fault. 

He's embarrassed by his outburst. How he broke down right in front of you. How he clung to your arms, counting on your words and touch to stitch him back together. How he wasn't enough for himself, but you were. 

Guilt floods his being, making you sadder when you're already dealing with so much. He recounts your tears dripping into his hair, as you hugged him tightly to your body. He made you cry; he shouldn't have broken down. That's why you're staying away. He can't blame you. 

He misses you. He saw you this morning and yet he misses you. Because you weren't there with him, you were somewhere else, in a faraway place in your mind. What if he can't reach you anymore? He wasn't sure what to do with himself without you. 

It's 11 pm, and he's knocking softly on your door. You open it and he smiles tightly. You smile back. 

He hovers around the entrance of your apartment, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You unclasp them, interlocking your fingers with his and leading him to your couch. You are warm, he missed you. You are here and he misses you. 

You both sit down, and you're looking at him curiously. His eyes fall to your lips, pillowy and rosy and he can't help pressing his mouth onto yours. It'll give him the courage to speak. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips and you lean away, confusion clearly written across your features. 

"For crying the other day," he clarifies. "I've made you uncomfortable and you feel like you have to be cautious around me, and I'm sorry, I won't do it again." 

"What are you saying? You didn't- you never..." you suck in a deep breath, inching closer to him.  "Minho, don't ever apologize for that. please. You should never apologize for being human."

"But you are being distant," he says in a small voice, avoiding your eyes. 

"Minho, I..." you bring your hand to his cheek, locking your gaze with his. "It's not what you think. I promise."

"Then what is it?"

You bite your lip, sighing loudly before speaking again. "You sobbed. And I had no idea you were hurting that much inside. I am so reclined on myself that I didn't notice. And I tried to distance myself so I'd sort my thoughts out. So, I could be there for you, fully. You're always here for me, and I feel... As if I failed you." 

It's now his turn to cup your cheek, his thumbs gently brushing against your skin. 

"I felt so loved by you that day. That's why I cried. because I've never felt that way before," he's quick to explain. "Yes, I was stressed and overwhelmed but it's not your fault. You were there for me when I needed you most. You didn't fail me; how could you think that?" 

"Because it should've never gotten that bad. If I had noticed before, then I would've helped you and it wouldn't have gotten that bad for you. You don't deserve to feel sad, not when you’re... You. Someone like you shouldn't feel sad." 

"Didn't you say we're humans? Isn't that what humans do? They fall down and they get up, I can't always be fine. It's not your fault." 

"Minho you don't understand... How much more of yourself can you give to me, without hurting yourself in return?" You're so sure of these words you're uttering, as if you've drilled them into your mind by now. You couldn't be more wrong. 

Minho blinks repeatedly, trying to gather the words in his mind properly. You weren't distancing yourself from him, because he had hurt you. But rather, so you wouldn't hurt him anymore. So, you'd be there for him more. A sudden relief floods his being. He isn't losing you. 

Minho can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth. He shakes his head slightly as he brings you to his chest. You're so warm as you wrap your arms around his waist. He still misses you but you're here, you aren't going anywhere. 

"You memorized my coffee order. And my favorite pudding. You always bring me one when you come over. When you find a new flavor, I haven't tried, you always buy it for me. You look at me so excitedly when I try it. As if me finding a new favorite pudding brings your personal joy," he's talking softly, slowly, in the hopes that you'd understand what he means. 

"You love spicy food, but you always cook without it when I'm with you. Because I can't handle it as well as you. You put snacks and water in my bag when I have dance practice, and then you come to check on me, even when you're busy too. You bought me an umbrella, and you placed it near the entrance of my dorm, so I wouldn't forget it. You give me the opened chopsticks package first, and you blow on my food so it wouldn't burn my tongue. And you let me pick the movie, every time. You let me pick it," he places a soft kiss on your shoulder, tightening his hold on you. 

"You brush my hair away from my eyes when you think I'm asleep. And you make sure the blanket covers my body entirely, even if it means it doesn't cover you. I've never had that. Never had someone care for me this gently. Even when I'm not awake and I can't give them anything in return." 

He leans back, smiling softly at you. There is a new palpable emotion in the air- love, in its most unconditional form. It smells fragrant and sweet- like you and him. 

"I notice everything you do for me, every way in which you love me. You're here for me in more ways than you can ever imagine. And I love you. Please don't stray away from me. Promise me," he pouts slightly, nudging his pinky toward your face. You giggle in defeat, before wrapping your pinky with his. 

"Didn't you think pinky promises were silly?" 

"Nothing you like is silly."

"Not even that cheesy drama I watch?" 

"Okay. Maybe that one is. But it makes you laugh," he trails off. "If it makes you laugh then I like it too." 

"You'll talk to me more, right? About whatever's bothering you? When you're not feeling black yet?" 

"I will, I promise. You too, right?"

"Mm. I will too." 

"Good," he smiles, pecking your cheek softly. "I've missed you. And I don't mind feeling all the colors of the rainbow, as long as you're near me."

✹✹✹

The voices of your friends singing you happy birthday reaches you like the distant chirping of birds, fading away in the back of your mind with each passing second. You know that Mina is smiling at you, her head resting on Jeongin’s shoulders. And that Chan, Han and Felix are all clapping excitedly, their voices blending together in a somewhat harmonious melody. But you can’t seem to focus on any of it. Your eyes are set on Minho, who’s walking over to you, a vibrant pink cake in his hand. The surface of it is covered in candy- marshmallows and macaroons, and a dozen of lit candles. Their light flickers on Minho’s face, casting an ethereal glow on him.

And as your widened eyes meet his, he knows that it all just clicked in place for you.

Four months ago.

"What did you like to do, when you were younger?"

You stay quiet for a few moments, mulling over Minho’s question. The waves crash softly at your feet, the sound of them and Minho’s arms around you serving as a perfect cover to thread through your childhood once again.

"I had a bunny plushie. My aunt gave it to me one day when her daughter didn't want it anymore. She was going to throw it out, but I took care of it. We took care of each other, in a way. I used to stay alone at home a lot, and Caramelo would keep me company."

"Caramelo?" he giggles and you pinch his arm playfully. "I was six when I named it, sue me."

"Mm, and where is Caramelo now?"

"I left it in the house. I packed in such a hurry and it didn't fit in my suitcase. But I really wanted to bring it," you smile sadly and Minho can sense a shift in your tone, so he trails his hands across your arms gently, pulling you even closer to his chest.

"What else did you like?" he asks, placing a kiss under the shell of your ear.

"Playing in the playground, there was one really near home. I'd sneak out and go play in the swing, but there was no one to push me higher there," you chuckle slightly, burying yourself further in Minho's embrace. 

"Oh, but I met a girl there when I was eleven, Lydia, I think. She was our neighbor, and she invited me to my first ever birthday party. Her parents prepared this huge cake for her, it was all pink with so much candy on top. I kept dreaming about having a similar one for my birthday. We also painted each other's nails and put on facemasks, and then we watched a movie. It was really fun," you recall, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. You were really shy and didn't talk to the other girls present, staying away in a corner. But Lydia grabbed your hand and pulled you next to her. She didn't let go during the entire movie.

You hoped she was okay, wherever she might be now.

"And... my mom took me one day to a hill near our home. We sat on a bench there, overlooking the city's lights. We didn't talk but she braided my hair since it kept getting in my mouth. That's my favorite memory with her."

Your voice is carried away with the wind, drowned in the waves. You hoped that one day your childhood memories will come back to you, like the sea foam dissolving at your feet. Gentle, incapable of hurting you anymore. 

"You know what I really want now? A big cake for my birthday too," Minho suddenly whines and you giggle, turning around to look at him.

"Want me to bake it for you?" you tease and he nods, cradling your face between his cold hands. They warm up once they rest on your cheeks.

"Yes. I want the cats’ pictures printed on it, and..." he trails off, looking up at the sky. "I want it to be green.”

"Green?" you chuckle. "Isn't that a bit weird for a cake?"

"Are you questioning my vision?" he wiggles his brows at you, his hands coming to your sides.

"I am," you laugh, as he starts to tickle you, unwaveringly. You fall to the sand, and he's on top of you, hands roaming your body as loud laughter erupts from you.

Minho’s eyes soften as he gazes at your laughing figure, but he doesn't stop, not until you tap his arm multiple times, happy tears trailing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Green is perfect, you are a genius!"

"Why thank you," he smiles, before leaning down and kissing your tears away. You shiver slightly, from the cold and the feel of his soft lips on your skin. He notices.

"Come on," he outstretches his hand and you grab it, standing up and dusting your pants. Minho squats slightly in front of you, and you giggle before climbing on top of his back.

"Don't you ever wonder who was the person who invented tickling? They were just sitting down and then they touched someone and they started laughing,” he suddenly muses.

"Right! And then they decided this was something they should keep on doing, and it stuck around for centuries."

"I think it's really cute. It says I love the sound of your laugh so much that I will sit there and tickle you just to hear it."

"And you just tickled me," you trail out. "I know," he mumbles, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink.

"I like your laugh too, Minho."

"Just like?" He teases, in a futile attempt to diffuse his shyness. 

"I love it. I love it so much I could pay my entire life savings just to keep on hearing it again."

"Stop," he whines and you giggle, swinging your dangling feet in the air.

"Have you ever heard your laugh? No other melody can compare. At this point, musicians should just retire."

"You're insufferable," he finally laughs and you sigh, melting into his back.

"And you like me."

"And I love you."

Present time

The realization dawns on you like a floodgate- Minho is recreating your happiest childhood memories.

From the pink cake of your dreams. To the obnoxiously glittery nail polish he brought home three days ago, spontaneously, you foolishly assumed. He insisted on having a pampering night, where you both applied face masks to one another, bunny headbands tucking your hair out of your face. You giggled as he painted your nails with the utmost concentration, and then begged you to paint his in return. He didn't explain why he wanted pink nails suddenly, you should've known. 

You should've known when he suddenly knocked on your door at midnight, taking your sleepy figure to the playground near your apartment. "Why are you here so late?" you questioned, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

"We are sneaking out," he whispered in your ear, and you didn't question his flawed logic- who were you sneaking out from exactly? But all was forgotten as he pushed you in the swing, fueled by your growing high-pitched giggles. "Higher?" he shouted and you laughed loudly, the sound of it echoing around the park. "Yes, higher!" Until you felt as if you were close enough to touching the stars. 

You should've known. 

Minho places the cake on the table, his warm hand finding your lower back. He rubs it soothingly, as you mouth a heartfelt "thank you" to him, hot tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. You couldn't speak, afraid of bursting into sobs in front of all your friends. He understands what you're referring to.

It's far later into the night when your friends finally leave Minho's dorm. You've all cleaned up the place, soft music emitting from the speakers. You didn't need songs to fill the silence, the conversations flowing easily between you all.

You gather all the gifts you've received and take them to Minho's room- a pair of shoes you've been raving about from Mina and Jeongin, and new headphones from Chan, Han, and Felix, since your old ones stopped working not too long ago.

"You're okay?" Minho asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"Better than ever," you beam at him, cupping Minho's neck and meeting his lips in a tender kiss. 

"I'm still not done," he smiles secretly, brushing his lips against yours once more, before pulling away. You watch, curious as he heads towards his closet and takes something out of it. Your eyes grow wide as they settle on the gift in his hands. You can feel your lip quivering as you walk hastily over to him. 

"Is this...?" you ask incredulously and he nods, a happy smile on his face. "Your Caramelo."

"How... When?" you stammer, as happy tears blur your vision, "How did you do it?"

"I have my ways," he smiles assuredly at you. "Do you like it? I'm sorry if I overstepped by bringing it to you," he adds softly, a hint of vulnerability in his words.

"No, Minho, this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe it- I... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he smiles, his hand rubbing your arm affectionately. "I figured this plushie should be in a loving home, with you. It helped you back then and now you're strong enough to help it in return."

There are overwhelming emotions that we can't quite express with words- like sorrow, sadness, or in your case, happiness. That's why touch was invented, you believe. As you pull Minho for a bone-crushing hug, Caramelo snug between your chests, you hope that he can feel everything you failed to express through words. That your soul will speak to him in a way your mouth couldn’t. 

"When you told me there is a friend of yours, who lived in my town. There was no friend, right?" you mumble into his neck.

"No, I just wanted to know your address," he whispers, arms tightening around your waist.

"Did you meet my mom?"

"Yes. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Did she tell you anything... about me?" you ask cautiously.

Minho remembers snippets of his conversation with your mother- the indifference she showed towards you, as if it wasn't her daughter, her flesh and blood that she discarded away so easily. 

"Nothing of importance. I promise you."

"Thank you," you whisper, voice caught up in your throat, bound by the ropes of your overflowing emotions. "Thank you for healing me."

Sleep didn’t come easily to you that night, and as Minho snored quietly next to you, you untangled your limbs from his, before heading to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. 

You find that the lights are already on and that Chan is working on his laptop, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at his screen.

"Hey," you greet softly, careful not to startle him. 

"Our birthday girl," Chan grins and you chuckle quietly, before settling next to him on the couch. 

"What are you working on?" you question, taking in the different settings displayed on his screen.

"Just a new song," he shrugs sheepishly, "I'm almost done with it." 

"That's nice," you mumble, tucking your knees into your chest. 

"I suppose Minho already gave you your gift," Chan speaks softly and you startle, turning around to look at him. 

"He didn't tell me what it is, don't worry. But I assume he pretended as if it was no big deal, that he got it." 

You nod silently, fearing that speaking would stop Chan from talking. 

"I told him that he should just walk up to your house, present himself, and then ask your mom if he can take some of your stuff for you. But he said it’s too risky, and there is a chance she might say no. So, you know what he did?" Chan chuckles softly, and you feel the breath slowly escape your chest. "He spent weeks researching all the moving companies that work in your town. And then he bought us uniforms that looked like one of theirs. With the name tags and all. We rented a truck and we drove there, so we’d pretend as if we were moving the rest of your belongings. Your mom didn't question it thankfully, and I've never seen Minho as relieved as when he climbed back into the truck."

An overwhelming need to cry threatens to consume you, and you bite your lip harshly to stop it from taking over. Not in front of Chan.

"For him to go these lengths for you, means that he loves you a lot. But also, that he feels really loved by you. So, thank you, for loving Minho. I'm very happy you guys are together now." Chan smiles softly at you, before getting up and ruffling your hair slightly. 

You quickly go back to Minho's room, before bringing his body tightly to yours. And as soon as you touch him, he mumbles your name in his sleep before throwing an arm over your waist.

"Thank you for loving me. I love you so much too," you whisper into his back, as your tears dampen his shirt. You wished that the words would reach him in his dreams, making them sweeter for him.

You didn't make a wish that day, as you blew the candles, foolishly believing that everything you've ever wanted was already around you. But you should've.

Maybe that would've stopped the anguish to come.

✹✹✹

There is a bad feeling nudged into the space between your ribs. You rub a soothing palm across your chest, in the hopes that it will calm your spiking anxiety. But you only feel your heart growing more erratic in your chest, and the sound of it only makes you panic ten times fold.

You’ve just woken up. You can hear the water running in the shower. Minho has stayed over since you both studied late into the night. You listen intently, a small breath of relief escaping your mouth when the water turns off. He’s okay.

You drag a hand tiredly across your face, before shaking your head left and right. You’ll have a good day, you’ll open the blinds and the golden sun will stream through your windows, and you’ll feel okay.

You don’t.

The dread lingers in your being throughout the day, making the simple act of walking weigh heavily on your bones. You try to distract yourself, by focusing on your classes and listening to Mina’s rants about her latest date with Jeongin. But to no prevail. So, you surrender to that feeling, today’s a bad day, but tomorrow doesn’t have to be. You’ll make sure of it.

It’s five pm when you finally walk up the stairs of your apartment. Minho went to grab you both something to eat since you’ll be studying again tonight. You wish he’d come home quickly, so you wouldn’t attach your anxiety to him. As long as you see him, then he’s okay.

You open the door, pausing by the front entrance. Something in you tells you to flee, to turn back, and never set foot inside. You don’t listen to it. If you paid attention to everything your mind tells you then you’d never truly live.

You quickly change out of your clothes, before turning on the TV. You mindlessly scroll through the show suggestions, and settle on one you haven’t seen before. You turn up the volume, making sure that the voices of the characters would drown the ones in your mind.

But then, your phone rings. It vibrates from the coffee table, the name of your aunt illuminating your screen. She calls you from time to time, but why is she doing it today? You don’t want to answer, not when there is a bulge in your throat suffocating you.

You watch numbly as the phone call seizes. You breathe out a shaky exhale. You’ll call her tomorrow.

The phone rings again.

You bite your lip harshly, hands shaking as you bring the device to your ear. You’re overreacting, you tell yourself. Nothing’s wrong. Minho will be home soon.

"What’s going on?" you ask immediately, the question slipping out of your mouth before you even thought about it.

Your aunt sighs softly, and then her voice floods your being. It sounds hoarse like she’s been crying. "Look, I…" another sigh, and you imagine her fidgeting with the hem of her dress. She always wore dresses. All seasons mingled. With pretty flowers sewed into them and sometimes even-

"Your mother died in a car accident."

Silence. You can't hear anything after those words are uttered. You know that your TV is still playing in the background and that your aunt is still talking on the phone. But it's completely silent. For five seconds. Where the world stills, as if to allow you a brief moment to process what you just heard.

Your mom. Gone.

But then, sounds crash upon you like a relentless wave. The shatter of the characters in the background, the ticking of your clock, the dull buzz of the refrigerator. And your aunt, she's still talking, telling you about the funeral and when it will be held and you can't believe what you are hearing.

It's all too overwhelming, everything surrounding you is too much to bear so you simply hang up.

You put your phone down on the table. And then you turn it off. That's one sound dealt with.

You turn the TV off and dismantle the clock from your wall so it wouldn't tick anymore. You then unplug your refrigerator. Has its buzzing always been this loud? You wonder. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now it’s silent. It's what you crave.

Minho will come home soon. You should make him something to eat. You think to yourself. A fruit salad. It's warm outside and the fruits are refreshing.

So, you grab a knife from your drawer, and then you start peeling an orange. Then an apple. It's rugged, and half the fruit is wasted with the peel. You've never really known how to peel the skin properly. So, you put the knife down. The blade is slightly red, you notice. There is blood oozing from your finger. You cut yourself. But it doesn't hurt, so you leave it be.

Light floods your apartment, a stark contrast to the shadows within you. But you want it to be dark, and silent. You already took care of that last part. So, you pull down all the blinds and turn off the lights one by one. Now it's pitch black. Now it's quiet.

You sit on the floor, running your hand across the tiles. You count them, one, two, three. When is Minho coming home?

The floor is cold underneath you, the sensation heightened since your every other sense is muffled. You can't see, you can't hear, but you can still touch. You wished you couldn't anymore. The smallest sensation overstimulates you.

The front door unlocks, but you don't hear someone coming in. You imagine Minho standing by the door, looking around in the dark. It's okay, he'll find you. He always does.

"Honey?" he calls out and you reply from the living room, "I’m here."

You don't have to yell, it's quiet enough for your voice to be carried around your home with ease.

Minho has his flashlight on, you notice. He's looking for you and he finally spots you on the ground. You move a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel something warm smear across your cheek. You forgot about your cut- a reminder of the pain lurking beneath the surface, waiting patiently to consume you.

"Baby?" His tone is soft and careful, and you can see the worry brewing in his brown eyes. Why was he worried? You're okay. Nothing happened.

"I made you a fruit salad. It's in the kitchen. Can you please turn off the light?"

"Okay." His voice is calm, and you don't mind him talking. You could bear it. He was different after all, to you.

He’s pulled into the abyss with you, as he sits down next to your rigid figure. His hand rests on top of your pinkie, but you recoil from it. Not because you hate it, but his hand is warm and the floor beneath you is cold. That's a contrasting sensation. You don't want that. You just want a stillness, to feel like a straight line. Straight lines are always sure of themselves, of where they're going. You were tired of feeling like a bent one at the hands of the universe.

"What happened, baby?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. What did you do when I left, hm?"

"Nothing much. I was watching this new show, I think you’ll like it. And then my aunt called. She told me my mom died in a car accident. And then I went to the kitchen and I cut up some fruits. But I didn't know how to peel them. Can you believe it?" you giggle, your voice suddenly high-pitched. "I mean who- who doesn’t know how to peel the skin of an apple? Isn't that such a basic skill?" You're laughing now, you don't know what's funny, but you're laughing.

"And I cut my finger, but I didn't feel anything, Minho. I don't- I don't feel anything," you're still giggling, hot tears trailing down your cheeks rapidly. "My mother died and I don't feel anything. Why- why can't I feel anything? Minho, I can't- I can't-" You're hyperventilating, words straining to come out of your mouth. The breath is knocked out of you and white spots cloud your vision, like the stars that dance around Minho’s eyes. They seem kind enough so you don't fight them. You want to welcome them in the hopes that they'd take this unbearable weight off of you.

"Yn, yn, breathe for me, baby. Listen to my voice," Minho calls out and it's as if you're pulled in two opposing directions. He sounds scared, so you try to do as he says. You don’t want him to worry about you.

"You're doing so well, breathe with me, okay? Breathe in... Breathe out... Perfect, let's do it again," he instructs and you try your best to follow suit. You can feel yourself shaking, your hands moving as if they have a mind of their own. You are cold, too cold, and you can't help but wonder if it's how your mother is feeling right now too.

The thought seems to drive you over the edge and you let out a guttural sob. It racks from within you, reverberating from the depths of your splitting soul. It's a pain unlike any you've ever felt. You try to find something to compare it to, a sensation you imagine must hurt the same. But you can't find any. You can't find a metaphor to make the pain more bearable.  

So instead, you let out a heart-wrenching scream, slicing through the silence you tried desperately to maintain. Your throat aches from the strain on your vocal cords but you pay it no mind, not when there is a pain bursting open every seam of yours, undoing every thread you so carefully stitched back into your soul.   

Amidst your pitch-black apartment, you see yourself quivering in the corner, head buried in your hands. And then it’s thirteen years old you sitting there, the one who wished for something so horrible to happen on the birthday she spent alone, yet again. Your wish came true, you want to tell her. You tried to take it back, but it came true.

Minho gathers you in his arms, and you clung to him. You know he's trying to wrap you up the best he can, his arms around your back and his legs pressed on you. He's trying his best to stop you from falling apart. From breaking beyond the point of no return. And you think to yourself that you've passed it. You've passed it and he's clinging helplessly into your remains now.

✹✹✹

The funeral went by in a blur, its details elusive in your memory. At times it felt like a fever dream, a mirage conjured by your mind. And sometimes you tried to believe it, to lull yourself into a comfortable thought. Where you don't talk with your mom and she doesn't know how you are doing, but she's still alive. On the other side of the country. She's still breathing.

But this fleeting comfort is quickly shattered. The thought barely lingers, like a whisper in the wind, never staying long enough for you to finally draw in a full breath. Because the grief clings onto your skin, and you carry it with you everywhere, like a stench that won’t quite leave you. You wonder if other people can smell it on you too.

Minho hasn't left your side, once. He's always next to you. His hands are resting on your back or brushing your cheek tenderly. They are always near. And you hold them tightly. You practically memorized the lines etched on his palm. It's all you stared at during the funeral.

It felt wrong and unjust to be somewhere where everybody knew your mother, except for you. You felt as if you were left out, robbed of happy memories to mourn as well. So, you remained silent, gaze fixed intently on Minho's palm. And he didn't mind; he never does when it comes to you.

He's gentle with you, he's always been, but he's particularly gentle with you these weeks. The countless times he's cared for you blur together- his soapy hands skimming your body, massaging the shampoo into your hair when your limbs felt too heavy to move; the meals he cooked for you, making sure that each bite was cool enough before feeding it to you. How he always told you he was proud of you, at random times throughout your days. ‘What for?’ you wanted to scream, ‘I'm barely alive as it is’. "For breathing," he'd add as if he heard the thoughts swirling in your mind. "For being here. For waking up today." 

He did your laundry and he folded your clothes. Sometimes he even picked your outfits and dressed you in the morning. Leaving pecks all over your face after each worn clothing. You wanted to smile, to tell him how much you loved him. How his love felt like a sun ray peeking through the cell hole of a prisoner. But you couldn't speak. So, you hoped he knew.

He unburdened you of all these mundane tasks, so you'd focus on other ones. Like attending classes and taking notes and writing essays. Because as much as you wished for it, the world did not pause for your sorrow. In the grand tapestry of existence, where did you stand exactly? You were nothing but a mere speck of light. Your emotions, as profound as they were to you, did not hold the power to halt the world's march, to compel universal mourning.

But Minho made your world stop, just like he promised, almost a year and a half ago. When you finally found your voice, he'd listen to you talk, your head on his lap, his fingers weaving through your hair gently.

"I feel like I’m mourning two people. The person I knew and the person she could have been," you told him one night and he hummed, listening intently to you.

"The what-ifs are killing me Minho. It feels like I’m suffocating each time I think of what could have been. She left so suddenly. But she should've stayed. Maybe our relationship would've gotten better."

"Maybe… or maybe not, you can never truly know. And it’s not your job to find the answers to the questions she left behind. Maybe she didn’t even have them herself."

You appreciated how his hand never left yours, as you journeyed through seas of uncharted emotions. The anger- that came with her leaving so abruptly, leaving you behind with a heavy baggage to dissect. The sadness- from losing the woman who will always be part of you. Because we don't kill our hopeful past selves, we simply bury them and they remain just under the surface of our souls, a testament to everything we've been through.

The nostalgia- that creeps in from time to time, conjuring rose-tinted memories in your head. Maybe her voice was softer here. She did ask about your day one time. Wasn't that her sitting on the benches in your musical play? But it wasn't, it was just your brain trying to soften the harshness of losing her.

It is how our minds cope with grief, your therapist says. Minho convinced you to go see one. Because love doesn't mend everything. And he needed you to be okay again, for yourself.

He's always waiting for you after your sessions end. With coffee and a fresh pastry. You didn't eat them at first, because they tasted bland and you'd rather not waste them. But one time you bit into the strawberry muffin and it tasted sweet and citrusy. And you smiled at Minho.

He stared at you in awe that day, and then he kissed you softly, pressing his pillowy lips against yours. His eyes mirrored galaxies, tears tracing constellations down his cheeks. "You look so pretty when you smile," he whispered tenderly and you felt emotion bubbling within you, stuck in your throat. But you didn’t want to cry. So, you only smiled more brightly at his words, and you kept his compliment stored safely within you, right beside every sweet gesture of his since that day.

Minho didn’t have the answers to all your questions. He didn’t always know what to say to make it feel right. But he stayed there, he tried his best, to heal parts of you that you never knew could be bruised.

You tried one day, to go through the day normally. You woke up, opened the blinds, and then you made Minho breakfast. You ate lunch with Mina, making some jokes here and there. And when you saw Chan in the line of the coffee shop, you went up to him to talk.

And then you got home and showered, put on makeup, and waited for Minho to come to you. As soon as he opened the door, you were on him, hands busy unbuttoning his shirt, your lips pressed wildly on top of his. You missed him, missed the way he made you forget as he touched you, everywhere. As he showed you how much he loved you.

"I want you, please," you whispered, your lips grazing the shell of his ear, your hands roaming across his chest. Your tone was begging and Minho could feel the urgency in it, so he nodded, he could never say no to you. He watched as you guided him to the couch, as you straddled his lap. You kissed his neck and he tilted it back to give you more of an opening. His hands were on your thighs, cautious. Your lips on him felt heavenly but he couldn’t allow himself to get lost in the pleasure, he had to keep an eye on you.

You were urgent, with the way you sucked the tender skin above his collarbones, how you grinded your hips into his. As if you were on borrowed time and you had to make him reach his high as fast as possible.

"Tell me you’re mine," you muttered, between the kisses you imprinted onto his chest. He could see the lipstick stains you left behind as if you needed to mark him up for everyone to see.

"I'm yours," he says, his hand smoothing the top of your hair. He could sense that something was wrong now, because your eyes were glazed over, and your kisses were getting sloppy, as if your mind was somewhere else. So, he grabs your hips to pause you. "I'm yours, angel. You hear me?"

"Tell me you won’t leave, tell me you’re staying," you take his hands away from your sides, clasping them in a tight hold. You capture his lips in a desperate kiss, and Minho can feel the tears streaming down your face. "Tell me you’ll stay, please, I can’t- can’t lose you too."

"Hey, hey, love. It’s okay, calm down," Minho easily frees his hand from your grasp, bringing you closer to his chest. It’s all it takes for you to start sobbing. "Who said anything about losing me? I’m still here, I won’t ever leave you," he shushes, his voice sounding like honey to your ears. It manages to muffle the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

"I'm so so tired Minho, so tired," you sob, burying your head in his chest. You felt as if there was pain igniting the end of each of your nerves. You couldn't run away from it because the pain became you. "I try to be strong, but I can't. It hurts to wake up and- and to try to go on as if nothing happened. The thoughts in my head don't ever stop and I can't- I can't do this anymore. Please make it stop. Make it stop hurting," you press your palm onto your chest, a useless attempt to soothe the burn within.

 Why did it feel as if in your attempts to put out the fire raging within you, you only ended up fueling it even more?

"I would- I would if I could but I can't do that, I wish I could-" his tone is desperate, raw pain dripping from it.

"What if I'm not strong enough to do it myself?" you cut him off, finally asking the question that's been haunting you. "What if I can't fill this hole within me and it keeps on growing until it swallows me whole?"

Minho tightens his hold on you, rocking you gently in place, trying to lull your heart to sleep, so it'd stop hurting, even for a moment, even for a second. You know it's selfish to expect him to have all the answers, but he's all you have. He's the only voice you can bear listening to.

"I can't promise you that you'll ever fill the void left by her absence. It will keep on bleeding and throbbing, begging for a temporary patch-up. But one day it'll stop, it can't bleed forever. And around that hole flowers will bloom, like a sanctuary, watered by your overflowing love. Because it is your love that's hurting you, not your anger. Do not kill your heart to stop feeling, please. It will do that on its own, it won't hurt more than it can bear."

"It will take time. And if you run out of your time, I'll give you mine too. You aren't alone in this, we are a binary star, right?" he smiles softly and you nod slightly against his chest. "I read that to the invisible eye, they look like a singular star. I hope that to the universe we'd look like one person too, so they'd pass some of your pain to me."

✹✹✹

It’s been a few months since your mother died. You didn’t like the term passing away, because it entails that it was gentle, in passing, as if you were expecting it. But her death was sudden and it made your entire world flip upside down.

"Would you like to talk to her?" Minho suggested one night, his knuckles brushing against your cheek softly.

"Will you come with me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course. If you want me to, that is."

"I can try."

Minho drove you to the graveyard the following weekend. It felt weird to see her name etched on the grave, a reminder that this was all real and not a figment of your imagination. 

"I'm not a daughter anymore." You speak after a while, tone coated in sadness, and acceptance. "But I think I’ve never truly been one, since you were never a mother to me."

"Is it weird, that I miss you? I don't even know what I miss exactly since you were never there. But I miss you. I miss having a mother. And I'm sorry, that you were so angry at the world you couldn't find it in you to love me." You pause, blindly reaching out to hold Minho's hand. He grabs it instantly. "But I won't carry your anger anymore. I don't want to be mad at you, for leaving so suddenly. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. And I hope that you are too, wherever you are now."

You turn around, a small smile gracing your lips, and Minho wastes no time in wrapping you in his arms, your cheek resting against his shoulder. He's proud of you, the emotion shines clear as day in his eyes. 

"I wanna take you somewhere," he tells you and you nod, wrapping your arm securely around his waist.

The drive is short and you recognize the place fairly easily. It's the hill you told him about a long time ago, the one that held your happiest memory with your mother.

You both sit on the bench, your head finding solace on his shoulder. The view unfolding in front of you is still as breathtaking, and with each passing moment, the tightness in your chest seems to ease. Memories of your mother and this serene spot intertwine like delicate vines, bringing you a bittersweet sense of comfort. Because mourning someone isn't straightforward, not when humans are this complex, never strictly good or bad.

"Cold?" Minho asks and you shake your head no. "You're a human heater."

"Only near you," he smirks and you giggle slightly.

"I remember your hands used to be so cold."

"So, I could find an excuse to hold yours."

"Are you flirting with me?" you chuckle and he nods, a proud smile on his face. "Is it working?"

"I haven't run away yet, so I suppose it is." There is a newfound lightness in your voice, one you’ve been achingly missing for the past months.

"Come here," he taps his lap with his hands and you promptly lay your head on it.

"Look at the sky," he instructs and you do as he says, squinting your eyes. "What am I supposed to see?" you giggle, but then you feel it, the faintest snowflake falling on your nose tip.

"Go away, I don't want to watch the first snow with you," you tilt your head towards Minho, who's watching you, a soft smile on his face.

You giggle at the distant memory, when you both left Limbo, two years ago. The first time Minho rewrote your memories.

"As if I could ever love you, that'd just be signing a death warrant," you repeat your words from that night, a knowing smile on your face.

"How's that death warrant going?"

"Horrible, so so horrible," you say as you intertwine his hand with yours, squeezing it lightly.

"Mm. I suppose we can't be the exception to the superstition."

"How unfortunate," you smile as he leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, before looking back at the sky again.

He looks perfect from your view. You can clearly see the mole on his nose, the pucker of his rosy lips, and his long eyelashes framing his eyes. You are overcome by a feeling of love for the man beside you, and you stand up from your place to pull him in for a deep kiss.

"What was that for?" he smiles once you lean away, his fingers gently grazing your lips.

"Thank you, for today and for every day since I've met you."

"Of course, my love. You took a big step today, what color are you feeling right now?"

"Whatever color loving you is."

✹✹✹

Hills covered in verdant hues, rows of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, stretching before your eyes. The birds are chirping somewhere near, intermingling with the faint melody of the wind brushing against your skin.

"Here," Minho comes from behind, placing his knit jacket on top of your shoulders. Its warmth seeps through you, and you lean your back against his chest, melting into his embrace. His arms encircle your chest, resting comfortably on top of your heart as if guarding it from harm.

You feel your breathing slow down as you both look out the window. You are somewhere far from the city and its buzzing lights, a small white cottage surrounded by nature, where only you and Minho exist.

Minho nuzzles his chin on your shoulder, placing a chaste kiss under your ear. A light giggle escapes your mouth, as goosebumps rise upon your skin. Your body still reacts as sweetly to Minho, proofs of his love imprinted all over you. His touch is familiar to you but still as soothing, never losing its effect on you. You believe it never will, even when you're both withering down; his touch will still be the only thing making you bloom.

"This is nice," he whispers, sighing softly and you nod against him, raising your hand to settle on top of his. His fingers instinctively find your wedding ring, playing with it as they've done for the past two years.

"It's always nice with you," you say and he smiles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. You remember how it felt when he held it for the first time. How he hasn't let go since. It was only ever his to hold.

"We did well, don't you think? For our first time being alive."

His words make a gentle warmth stir within you. It is your first life, and you're lucky enough to spend it with him.

"We did," you turn around, to find him already looking down at your figure, a fond smile on his face. "To think we probably wouldn't be together if it wasn't for our law classes."

"No," he shakes his head, hands gently cupping your cheeks. "I would've found you. On a random evening when you'd stumble onto Limbo. In the supermarket where you'd buy your cherry shampoo. In the park you used to play in as a kid. I would've found you."

You've once read that when humans are about to pass away, a film of their happiest memories plays in front of their eyes. You know that many years down the road when you're on the brink of going away, you'll remember this moment clearly in your head. You'll remember the cicadas chirping far away, and the zesty smell of the lemon muffins you made earlier today. You'll remember the cold breeze ruffling your hair, and Minho’s warm hands on you. And you'll sigh contently, from having lived a life filled with love.

"My soul is dipped in yours. It will always find you too."

[mangostarjam]

maid in paradise — wind breaker, aged up suo hayato x f!reader, established relationship, maid servant master roleplay/dynamics, semi-public sex, creampie, reader is called "dear" "love" and "good girl", slight yandere suo, idk he's just a freak (affectionate), 3.3k words

"Ah, how cute."

You're going to kill him.

Suo Hayato smiles and puts down the excessively frilly menu, linking his fingers together as he cheerfully surveys your outfit. "I didn't think it would be so… short."

You wonder if he'll notice poison in his tea.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, tugging at the hem of your admittedly short skirt. This cafe is nowhere near Bofurin territory, a fact that you made sure of while looking for a quick, easy way to make money. Not that it matters that much, since Hayato and his friends have graduated, but they still roam the streets guarded by Bofurin, so you figured you'd be safe from their overprotective watch out here. Speaking of which —

"Shouldn't you be at work?" you add. Hayato's smile doesn't budge a centimeter. "Suo-kun, seriously?"

"How could I miss the cafe's special tea event?" Hayato muses. "Especially when my girl would be working today?"

Heat burns along your cheeks at his casual words. It's been a few months since you finally realized you've been dating this whole time (you blame Hayato for being so goddamn vague whenever someone questioned him about you) but he still manages to make your heartbeat skip with the casual statement.

"I have the day off," Hayato adds, once it's clear you're at a loss for words. "This was a perfectly timed coincidence."

Somehow, you doubt that.

"Well, just… don't fight anyone, alright? I need this job," you say, fidgeting a bit more with your skirt. You eye the subtle tightening of his clasped hands warily. Okay, maybe you shouldn't have said that. "Would you like to order?"

Hayato tilts his head to the side. The long tassel of his dangly earring brushes his shoulder and the jewel flashes bright with reflected sunlight. "I believe you forgot something."

You wonder if anyone besides your boyfriend will notice the aborted twitch of your hand.

Hayato smiles at you, the softer one that sends shivers up your spine, the one he usually saves for behind closed doors. You clear your throat as heat rises up your neck. "Would you like to order… sir?"

"Let's try a different one," Hayato says softly. So softly. "Since you're in such a cute French maid uniform — what else could you call me?"

It would be really nice if a hole could open up and swallow you right now.

Well, whatever. Two can play at this game — your boyfriend may not be above teasing you in public, but at least you can try your best to return the favor.

"What would you like to order, master?" your voice barely trembles and you grin, pleased with yourself.

Hayato smiles — the big, bright kind he uses when he's about to start shit — and then he says cheerfully, "Good girl. I'd like to try the International Deluxe Set, please."

"Yes, master," you say, matching his cheerful tone. You flash him your customer service smile and turn on your heel to escape before he catches the heat scorching your cheeks. You might turn a little too quickly and Hayato probably sees a glimpse of the bare skin between your white thigh high stockings and your panties as your skirt flares up with the movement, but you scurry to the relative safety behind the bar before you can find out.

A few of your coworkers — also dressed in maid costumes procured by the store manager a few days ago — are huddling together by the kitchen entrance as they ready their trays. "Is that your boyfriend?" one asks, a touch of envy in her voice.

"Yes, but don't let his smile fool you," you say blandly. You shoot her a reassuring grin as you load your tray with the special tea set Hayato ordered. You're careful with the tray as you make your way towards the small round table tucked into the back corner by the window. It's a little busier than usual — the maid promotion seems like it'll be a hit — but you make it back to your boyfriend with ease.

Hayato's smile is a bit sharp. He hadn't missed your gift earlier, then.

"Your skirt is quite short," he says evenly. You hold the tray aloft steadily and begin setting his table. Each quiet, gentle clink of delicate porcelain on the rustic wooden table sounds strangely loud in your ears, the focus of your entire world narrowing down to this table with your boyfriend.

Your bare arm brushes along his sleeve as you set a small bowl of sugar cubes by his elbow. Hayato shifts — drags his finger along the back of your hand as you freeze — and offers a nod towards the low cut of your blouse, accentuated by the frilly white apron cinched tight around your waist.

"Yes, master?" you ask. Thank goodness your voice sounds steady.

"You are very… cute," Hayato says. His eye flicks from the exposed skin of your chest on display up to your face. "I can't say I mind having such a beautiful maid. Have you had many customers, love?"

Talk about a loaded question. "This is my first shift as a maid," you explain, "Manager-san didn't come up with this idea until a few days ago. She thought it'd help with business."

"That wasn't my question."

You set the last piece — a small three tiered stand filled with carefully cut sandwiches and crumpets and little bowls of cream and jam — on the table. "You are my first customer as a maid."

"Good," Hayato says. "I'm glad your manager has a brain."

You give him a funny look, and he smiles but doesn't say anything else. It's not unusual for Hayato to withhold things from you in the moment, until he's ready to talk about it, so you decide to let it go. You settle into the seat across from him, smoothing down the front of your frilly white apron and the skirt of your black dress.

"Would you like me to serve your tea, master?" you offer, hand already curling around the handle of the teapot. It's had enough time to steep, and you know he cares about things like this. Hayato nods slightly, his gaze unwavering as you tip the spout towards his cup.

"By all means, dearest."

"This is an earl grey blend," you murmur, wondering vaguely why your cheeks are getting hot. "I found it in one of our vendor catalogues and thought you might like it. Sugar?"

"Hm, yes, I think I will," Hayato muses. He reaches the silver tongs before you and holds up a sugar cube, the small crystals sparkling in the light. His red eye gleams as he meets your confused stare. "Open up."

He can't be serious.

As you watch, your boyfriend's easygoing smile takes on a hint of mischief. He brings the tongs closer, until the sugar cube brushes against your cupid's bow. Your lips part automatically at the gentle pressure, heat flaring through your body as Hayato deposits the sugar cube on your tongue.

"You can suck on it," he says nonchalantly. You draw in a breath as he looks away to actually put sugar into his tea, feeling like nothing more than a prey animal briefly escaping the watchful gaze of their predator as it decides how much it wants to play with its food.

"Su— Master…?"

The sugar dissolves quickly with the heat of your tongue, flooding your mouth with saliva. "Yes, dear?" Hayato offers you a smile.

All thoughts of poisoning your boyfriend fly out of your brain like rabbits bolting into the bushes. Hayato's tone has gone a little deeper, a little raspier. He's still wearing that annoyingly cheerful smile, as if nothing suspicious is happening in your back corner, but you catch the subtle tick of his jaw as you lean forward and your tits press up against the table like an offering.

His eye finds yours and he tilts his head slightly. "Will you eat with me, love?"

"Of course, master."

You watch, heat thrumming beneath your skin like a live wire as Hayato begins to spread the expensive clotted cream your manager had been so delighted to find a few days ago. The crumpet flakes and a few crumbs catch on his finger as he carefully smooths cream along the pastry, but — you know what he's going to do next, and your heart races with anticipation.

"Whoops," he says mildly, "looks like I've made a bit of a mess."

"Let me clean it for you," you breathe, grasping his wrist gently. Hayato lets you, watches you with a burning, dark gaze as you suck his finger into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the digit and he presses down abruptly, catching at your teeth as he pulls his finger free with a pop!

"Thank you, dear," he says roughly, quietly. You smile, pleased, a thrill of pleasure shooting down your spine.

Hayato adds jam to the pastry before breaking off a piece and offering it to you on his fingers. You maintain steady eye contact as you wrap your lips around his offering, tracking the way his eye darkens even more in spite of the sunshine filtering in through the window.

"You're being such a good girl," he says. His tone has gone mild again, but the way he's watching you makes you feel hazy and floaty. You'd do anything for him. You know he'll take care of you. "Why aren't you ever this good when we're at home?"

You've been to Hayato's home exactly one time. He usually goes to your apartment, and he's stayed over often enough now that you can't even remember the last time he wasn't in your bed at the end of the night. You bite on your lip, abruptly thrown off balance.

"What're you talking about, Suo-kun? Are you… unhappy in our home?" The heat flooding your face has nothing to do with the desire that's been steadily dripping through your veins and everything to do with the hot flash of embarrassment you feel at his words.

Are you not good enough for him?

Hayato's eye widens and he reaches across the table to grasp your hand, nearly knocking over a cup in his haste. You blink, surprised by his response. "You do tend to talk back more at home," he says lightly, but he never takes his gaze off of you. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your skin and you relax into the touch. "You're delightful, of course, no matter what — I wouldn't be dating you otherwise, you know? I'm just surprised to find you so… obedient."

You chew on your lip thoughtfully, squirming as that dreamy haze rises up in your brain again. Trust Hayato to know exactly how to soothe your fears. "I think… I think I like being good for you, Suo-kun."

In all the years you've known him, Hayato has always had some kind of deflection ready — whether it be teasing or flat out lying — and once you realized you were dating he's been shameless about stealing kisses to distract and fluster you. He's quick to steer your attention away from whatever truths he's trying to hide. And he can be mean, when he wants to be. Never truly mean to you, but. He can be ruthless and brutal and that's not even accounting for his actual physical capabilities for taking down men twice his size.

So you find yourself staring as his hand tightens around yours. Staring at — his eyepatch, and his eye, red and dark and deep like autumn leaves wet with early winter rains. Staring at the smooth skin of his cheek and the slope of his nose and the sharp line of his jaw up to his long, dangly earrings and his hair grazing the tips of his ears… which are pink.

"I think you need to quit your job," he says.

You blink at him. "What?"

"I'll help you find a new one," Hayato says, "I'm sure Kotoha-chan would love some help at Cafe Pothos —"

"Suo-kun, what are you talking about —?"

Hayato's grip on your hand becomes borderline painful and you can't help the secret little thrill that shoots through you at the subtle reminder of his strength. You don't think he's noticed his hold. He smiles at you.

"Will you please get me another cup? It seems I've put too many sugar cubes in this one," Hayato says. You blink. He only put one, and he hasn't even tasted his tea yet, but —

"Yes, master."

Hayato releases your hand and keeps smiling as you rise and do a flustered little curtsy that brings your cleavage right into his line of vision. Another little gift from you — and hopefully he'll be back to normal once you fetch another teacup.

The spare teacups for the International Deluxe Set are still tucked away in the back storage room since your manager didn't think many people would be interested in it, so you slip past your coworkers and hurry down the side hallway, dodging the flurry of activity in the kitchen and sidestepping a stack of crates ready for unloading. It's much quieter in the back room, the air hushed with disuse.

The door clicks shut behind you.

"Fire!! Fi— mph!"

Your assailant dodges the strike you aim towards his face just as you register the jewel hanging from his ear. "Good girl," Hayato breathes, catching your other upraised fist with a bright grin. "These are the moves I taught you!"

"Wha— Suo, what the fuck?"

Hayato grasps your wrists together and holds them above you with one hand, pressing you back into the shelf stacked with boxes of teacups and other supplies. You yelp as he shoves one of his strong thighs between your legs, parting them until his hips are slotted against your core.

It's too much, too sudden — to have him in your space, radiating heat, smelling faintly like your body wash and something intrinsically Suo Hayato —

Grinding his incredibly hard cock against your panties, shoving your skirt out of the way and gripping your thigh as you wrap it around his waist with a flustered little whine.

You are… embarrassingly wet.

"I promise I'll help you find a new job, love," Hayato says, bending down to brush his lips featherlight against yours. You can't help but tilt your head towards him, seeking his touch. "But you can't work here anymore."

"Why — why not?" you gasp.

Your boyfriend's nose skims your cheek as he moves to nibble at the edge of your jaw. "I don't want anyone else to see you like this," he murmurs, and there's a raw honesty in his voice that makes your breath catch. "You're mine."

That's all the warning you get before he releases your wrists to sneak his hand between your bodies. He huffs under his breath when you jerk at the light brush of his fingers along your slit, his movements confident and sure as he slides your panties aside. Your lashes flutter shut at the careful, slippery circling of your clit. "S-Suo-kun —"

"Such a good fucking girl," Hayato murmurs, watching your expression twist with pleasure under the dim lighting. His hand is replaced by his cock, the hot solid heat of him rubbing along your slick sending sparks dancing up your veins.

"Suo-kun, please I want it i-inside —"

"I'm not going to last very long, love," Hayato chuckles, but you feel him pressing into you anyway.

He's so — hot, and unyielding, his thick length sinking into your heat as you whimper at the sudden stretch. It usually takes a bit more foreplay to get you loose enough to take him, but somehow this sensation is perfect and you can't help but clench down on his cock.

"Can you cum like this?" Hayato asks suddenly. His face is very close to yours. "Just like this — here, I'll help, but you'll be a good girl and cum for me, right?"

You nearly choke as he settles himself as deeply inside you as he can go. Hayato keeps one hand on your thigh, but his free hand sneaks back between your legs and brushes lightly at your clit. "Suo no I can't, not like this please," you gasp.

Hayato ignores you and applies a stronger and steadier pressure on your clit, rubbing the soaked bud with a familiarity that makes you feel a little shy. He leans up to kiss you. His lips are soft and demanding, his tongue devastating, wiping out all coherent thought until the only thing in your world is him.

You moan as he kisses you, as he sends you spiraling higher up a familiar coil, your hips rocking feebly against the ironclad grip he has on your thigh. Hayato shudders as your pussy clamps and clenches around his cock, holding as still as possible as you desperately seek friction.

This is torture — why won't he fucking move — "Suo-kun, master —" That gets a jerky aborted thrust of his hips and your head falls back against the shelves at the feeling. "Master, please won't you fuck me? I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Yes, yes," Hayato murmurs, his breaths and lips hot against your exposed neck. "Just cum for me first, please."

You're close — if he would just move —

"Please, Hayato," you whine, blinking open teary eyes and meeting his gaze as he pulls back slightly to stare at you. His lips are barely parted, his gaze unrelenting until he screws his eye shut and groans.

And then he pinches your clit and you shoot over the edge with a cry.

It's — it's an exquisite kind of pleasure, the knife edge of ecstasy as you cum all over his cock, the thick, velvety smooth solidity unyielding in your core as you squeeze him for all you're worth. In your blissed out haze you barely register him managing two short, sharp thrusts before he's throbbing inside you, releasing thick spurts of cum as you milk him dry.

"Good girl," Hayato gasps, leaning forward to kiss you. You moan weakly into the kiss, still feeling floaty and hazy with the rush of your orgasm. He pulls back to smile and it's the soft one, the one for behind closed doors.

Your heart flutters a little as he brushes his nose gently against yours. "I take it you're a fan of the maid theme?"

"Maybe," he grins and it's so boyishly charming you almost forget he's softening slowly inside you. "I'll probably have to pay for the outfit… and the tea I left outside."

The sudden reminder makes you jolt. You switch from gripping his strong shoulders to pushing at his chest feebly, eyes wide. "That's right! Fuck, I'm still at work, Suo-kun!"

Hayato laughs and pulls out of you carefully, sliding your panties back over your folds as you promptly soak the fabric with both of your juices. Heat flares hotter beneath your cheeks. Yikes.

"Will you wait for me in the back alley here?" he asks, tucking himself back into his pants and sliding off his long coat. He bundles you into it, covering your maid outfit and helping you fix your rumpled skirt and apron. "I'll go settle the bill, and then we can walk home together."

"I still have like, five hours on my shift," you remind him.

"You don't work here anymore," Hayato says simply. He smiles. "Though it is a shame — the tea looked wonderful."

"You didn't even try it," you point out.

Hayato's grin widens and he leans forward to kiss you carefully before pulling back just enough that you could count every single one of his eyelashes if you wanted. "I was too distracted by how delicious my girlfriend looked."

You wrinkle your nose at him. Hayato kisses you again.

"Next time I'm poisoning your tea."

[hiraethwrote]

sidelines

cw: f!reader, hurt/no comfort, reader gets injured, semi proofread wc: 1.1k

meeting you was a coincidence. falling in love with you was an accident. distancing from you was a choice.

satoru still remembered the flash of heartbreak that washed over your face when he had served you a lie; i think we’re better off as friends.

it would always be carved into his mind — the sharp breath you took to settle yourself, blinking away the shy tears before you had nodded along weakly. “oh, okay.” it had barely been a whisper, but your tone would forever haunt him.

he knew it was for the best, keeping you at arms length no matter how much he hated it.

some part of him had always suspected he might have to sacrifice the experience of true love, and therefore he had never pursued it. the target on his back was just too big to be worth the risk.

nonetheless, you had come into his life like the season’s first fall of snow — unexpected.

and whatever you had done, he had fallen completely in the matter of mere moments, because when you looked at him you had seen satoru… just satoru.

when he was with you, he didn’t need to be the strongest. he wasn’t the heir to the gojo clan. he wasn’t the first sorcerer in centuries born with the six eyes.

no, when he was with you, he was satoru, the guy who hummed quietly when your fingers brushed through his hair. he was satoru, the guy who caused you frustration when he yet again forgot to bring your favourite drink that you had requested, turning in the door as quickly as he has arrived to go get it. he was satoru, the guy who was finally starting to enjoy the quiet normalcy of everyday life.

how naive you had made him.

because he had slowly started to believe that he could take a moment to breath when it came to his responsibilities, simply wallow in the warmth of your natural compassion and affection. he could lean into the soft touch of your hand and for a second forget what rested on his shoulders.

how wrong he had been, when you had accidentally found yourself witness, and also collateral damage, to one of his encounters with curses.

it happened so quickly, he hadn’t even noticed the action itself until he saw your unmoving body on the ground. never had satoru been as scared as he was the moment his eyes landed on you, certain his own heart stopped at the sight.

he quickly exorcised the troubling curses before rushing over to you, kneeling beside your unconscious body. with utmost care, he had swooped you into his arms, holding his breath as he checked for a pulse, not trusting any of his abilities to tell him, needing to physically feel the faint pumping at the side of your neck.

it felt like an entire lifetime passed before he found the soft signs of life, instantly letting out a shaky breath when he could finally confirm with his own flesh that you were still breathing.

with a bruised and bloody hand, he carefully brushed your hair out of your face to reveal a rather severe gash across your forehead.

he breathed your name, waiting to see the reactive, light raise of your eyebrows that happened subconsciously whenever he spoke the sweet tune. but your face stayed completely still, not even a single twitch in your eyelids to indicate you were waking up.

next thing he knew, he was stood in front of shoko with you in his arms, begging her to help you.

“it’s not severe,” shoko tried to reassure him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder while he sat at your bedside. “you can even take her home.”

he’d only nodded in confirmation, not daring to take his eyes off of you. he wanted to be the first thing you saw when your eyes eventually fluttered open — he was not going to miss that moment for anything.

and while he waited, he was deep in thought. churning and chewing on how best to prevent you from ever getting hurt again.

he had been lucky this time, but there was no guarantee it would end as well as it did next time, and he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety. but every idea he came up with ended with the same heartbreaking conclusion.

because the incident had him realise you were his one and only weakness — that meant you would always be in danger.

it was only a matter of time before you would not be his secret anymore. eventually it was bound to be a common fact in the jujutsu world, that there was one way to have the strongest sorcerer at their mercy.

satoru would not be able to live with himself if that was the case.

the safest thing for you was to break your heart — tell you that it wasn’t working. he had just been caught up in the intensity of the honeymoon phase, swept up in the comfort you had provided. which was all true, the lie was saying those feelings had passed.

but he was the strongest — who better to protect you than him? so the earnest preposition of friendship had been his way of being able to keep an eye on you without directly exposing you to the dangers of his world.

now his future was destined to be nothing but torture.

he would eventually see the sparkle in your eye return when you finally got over him. and when that happened, which he knew it would, he waited in despair for the day you would fall in love again.

you would trail your fingers through the hair of a person that wasn’t him. your eyes would stare hearts at a face that wasn’t his. at night, when you were sound asleep, your breathing would move in unison with someone who was not him — but you would be safe, shied away from the world he was forever trapped to serve.

satoru would torture himself for eternity, be a helpless audience in the theatre of your life, watch you indulge in all the happiness life had to offer, if it meant he wouldn’t put you in danger.

after meeting you, satoru had learned he wasn’t really a person meant to love from a distance. the love he had for you was all over him, supposed to be loaded onto the one person it belonged to; you. his devotion for you was so big and all consuming, filling any void he found himself in.

but if it was from the sidelines he would get to see you live — it was in the sidelines he would stay.

a/n sorry

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[misc-obeyme]

Ah, you want lucifer sub? I have another idea for you then! Feel free to ignore if you had enough nsfw drabbles tho lol Theres a card in NB where lucifer tries to force mc a truth apple or whatchamacallit to see who mc really is, but Beel ended up eating it instead. Anyway in p4 he tries to earn mc's forgiveness by going to the castle for barb's cooking. What if then, at the table, mc remembers that in the og timeline, lucifer and mc constantly played with shibari on each other? Hmm... So then, that's his punishment. Early Avatar of Pride, getting tied up in his own room. Blindfolded Anyway, hope you like the idea. 🍄 Love you CC

Augh, 🍄 anon, shibari is like one of my favorite things ever. It just looks so pretty!?!? And Lucifer is also very pretty????

Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. I do have that card and remembered this particular Devilgram. It had an excellent line from Barb that I took the time to screenshot and then forgot about until much later. Something about having cake, I don't remember exactly. It's in my posts somewhere lol.

Anyway! Sub!Lucifer is everything to me, so here he is. I like the idea of NB Lucifer specifically not understanding why he trusts MC. He even says in the Devilgram something about how there was a connection between them the moment MC showed up. But this is a minor detail, I just find it interesting.

GN!MC x Lucifer

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: sub!Lucifer, dom!MC, shibari, blindfold, praise, hand job

Lucifer held himself incredibly still. He would not squirm. He would not give you the satisfaction.

It was difficult. He wanted to give in already.

You had spent quite some time carefully tying the black and red ropes around his body. Securing knots, ensuring they were tight but not too tight. Perhaps he should have been anxious as you brought his hands behind his back and tied them in place. Perhaps he should have been concerned when you tied the blindfold over his eyes. Perhaps he should have been worried about how vulnerable he was allowing himself to be with you.

And perhaps he was all of those things. But the fire it ignited in his belly was too powerful to ignore. The thrill of your touch, the way his skin tingled any time you brushed your fingers against it. Knowing that you were seeing him completely exposed, that he was entirely at your mercy, that you were in control of him in a way no one else has ever been.

The ropes rubbed against him, an uncomfortably pleasing sensation. The blindfold was his own tie, which you had utilized for this purpose and its soft silkiness was an exciting contrast to the harsher feeling of the ropes.

When you were finished, you moved away and left him there.

Lucifer was kneeling on his own bed, tied up and blindfolded, waiting for you to touch him again.

He couldn't see himself, but he could imagine the sight. You seemed to already know the intricacies of shibari. The pattern was elegant and complex - turning him into a sensual work of art.

Lucifer waited. He could be patient. He refused to let you see just how affected he was. He couldn't do anything about his obvious erection, which was straining. But he would keep the rest of himself as composed as possible.

"So," you said and your voice was close. "Are you sorry for trying to get me to eat that apple?"

Lucifer hesitated. "I've let you tie me up and blindfold me, haven't I? Is that not proof enough?"

"I won't make you say it," you said. "I could see it in your eyes as I was tying you up. You trust me, don't you? Despite being suspicious of who I am and what my motives might be, you still trust me."

Lucifer frowned. "I don't-"

You pressed a finger to his lips. "You don't need to lie about it. You can trust me, Lucifer. I promise."

Lucifer was about to disagree with you, but whatever he might have said left his mind immediately as you took his cock in your hand. He sucked in a breath. Your hand felt soft, slightly damp with your sweat, which soon mingled with his precum.

Lucifer's resolve not to squirm crumbled. He couldn't hold perfectly still now, his hips moving involuntarily to thrust into your hand. He bit his lip, determined at least not to moan.

"Don't do that," you said, putting your thumb on his lower lip and pulling it gently out of his teeth. "Let me hear you."

Lucifer felt his skin grow hot as the moan he'd been trying to hold back escaped him. As soon as it did, it was as though a dam had broken and he couldn't stop making noise.

"Ah," he cried. "MC, please, ah!"

"Good boy," you said sweetly. "Now come for me."

Lucifer immediately came all over your hand, a strangled cry ripping itself from his throat as he did. Lucifer was panting, his body's muscles relaxing, but he was still tied up so stiffly, he couldn't go anywhere. You allowed him to lean on you long enough to catch his breath.

Lucifer quickly learned that he was far from done with his apology and it was much later into the night before you were willing to forgive him.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[strwberri-milk]

Could I request for Kaeya, Childe and Neuvillette with an s/o who goes around giving everybody little gift baskets of sweets but seemingly forgot about the boys only for s/o to reveal that she'd made them cute snack boxes?

Kaeya doesn't think too much of it at first. He assumed that maybe it was just for your group of friends that didn't include him and he was more than happy to let you go on your way. He's not going to control the things you do for your friends and also helped you plan out some of the stuff when you came to him for inspiration.

He doesn't realise that you've been giving everyone gifts until he comes into work one day without you and sees everyone fawning over the baskets you've left in the communal area for them. He doesn't say anything about it but he makes a passing comment that night when you come home.

He doesn't sound angry, he just mentions that he didn't realise you were doing something for his colleagues as well and you just nod in agreement. You disappear for a minute and he assumes that you just went to get changed and starts to playfully mope about how you care about everybody else more than him. It's not until you're directly in front of him with a box with his name on it that he realises you didn't actually forget him.

Happily, he takes it into his hands and hums as he opens it up, cooing at how adorable the box you made him looks. You laugh as you sit next to him, Kaeya happily eating the snacks and thanking you with kisses and hand feeding some of the things to you.

Childe is very open about not wanting to be forgotten. He pouts a little and asks when you'll make him a basket as you assemble them for the people in your life. You try your best to steer him off track but when he comes home from work he's back to asking you teasingly why you haven't given him anything yet.

It just takes him a day or two to drop it, not wanting to make you get annoyed at his teasing but you do also note that he still likes watching you assemble the treats for people.

When he comes back from washing up you present him with his own box with a little ta da! It makes his face light up as he happily digs in, impressed with how much detail you put into his box. He loves every bit of it, giving you a tight hug as another show of appreciation as he chows down.

Neuvillette was incredibly happy with how you were putting so much effort into each of the baskets you were making for everyone. He watches you happily and doesn't say anything but the way his eyes curiously follow over your hands at work as you piece everything together.

He won't really think much about the fact that he can't obviously discern if you've made something for him to eat. He doesn't mind and doesn't want to come off as overbearing so he won't say anything to you directly.

When he starts to realise that you might have forgotten about him he still won't say anything. It doesn't bother him in the least to be forgotten, knowing that you've probably got a lot of things on your mind and that it wasn't anything intentional on your part.

You prod the subject a little, apologising about not making him a box and he just brushes it off. He tells you that it's alright and he's not going to hold it against you. You feel him press a soft kiss to your head and you feel bad about the little joke you wanted to pull on him, surprising him with his own box.

His eyes light up and he holds the box tenderly in his hands, thanking you and opening it. Upon seeing all the treats you've got for him, things he knows you've chosen specifically with him he feels his chest warm in affection, hugging you close to him in appreciation.

[cindol]

͘ ࣭⸰ ♡ " HOW THEY WOULD DO AS CO-PARENTS WITH YOU ! ” ͘ ࣭⸰ ♡

x fem reader

characters included : manjiro sano, sanzu haruchiyo, ken ryuji, rindou haitani, mitsuya takashi,

tw — everyone is a baby father, drug usage/drug bender mentioned

﹒.ᐟ 𐚁 cw— angst, bonten!sanzu, bonten!mikey, bonten!rindou, sanzu and mikey aren’t very good fathers, fluff

MANJIRO SANO ( MIKEY ! )

He’s in his son’s life but very distant. He makes sure you and his son are always taken care of but he doesn’t have a active relationship with his son, the most he’s ever done is show up to one elementary school graduation and pat his head a few times when rarely visiting your house.

His right hand man sanzu is there though as an uncle, kinda.

SANZU HARUCHIYO

Active in his daughter’s life but the relationship isn’t so strong due to him always going on benders and disappearing. When you get into arguments with him about his disappearing act his response is always the same as he goes through your fridge.

“You disappeared for three months sanzu, with not even a call or a text of where you were.” trying to nail these words deep into his head while he rummaged through your fridge.

“three months sanzu, no call, not even a ‘hey I’ll be out for this amount of days! But I’ll see you till then” you just left me and yuna wondering when daddy was gonna be back.” You weren’t even angry for yourself, sanzu wasn’t your boyfriend so that hole was already digged and burried. What really made you pissed is how he up and left leaving your daughter wondering why he hadn’t visited in such a long time, again.

Sanzu grumbled closing the fridge.“relax relax, enough with your grouching and shit. I was on a trip with mikey, just forgot my phone.”

“You were posting on your instagram story pictures of airplane food.”

there’s silence then a cough from him till he chuckles.“ah well, got the girl a cute little bunny stuffed animal. She still likes em at that age right?”

at least his heart is in the right place, sorta.

KEN RYUJI ( DRAKEN ! )

Might take the crown as one of the best baby fathers. He loves his baby girl, never misses any dance recital or holidays or birthdays to spend with his daughter.

his sweetness with his daughter almost makes you wanna get back together with him, it doesn’t help how even after the divorce he still was the gentleman he showed you from the beginning.

Always so helpful too when you look too drowsy and tired with eyebags.“I can always take sana an extra day you know? Don’t got shit on my weekend plans anyways” he joked at the end but still rubbing your shoulders, just because of how sweet he is.

You were sure that if you told him you have a date he’d tell you to enjoy yourself, much to his dismay.

RINDOU HAITANI

gangster in business but a loving father for his princess. He’s prone to missing a school play or small holiday but makes it up with gifts and bringing over his daughter’s favorite uncle ran.

as a ex husband he doesn’t step over the line, he knows your boundary. He doesn’t have an issue with you dating other men, even when you tell him you’ve met someone new he congratulates you.

“good for you, just make sure he ain’t no problem and I don’t got a problem.” you brushed it off as a half joke but he was very serious.

He uses the excuse of taking precautions for his daughters since he didn’t just want any type of man around her but he was also just curious what type of man you were dating so he hired a private investigator for this man.

when talking about it with sanzu and ran it’s laughable to the both of them.

“Stalking? Didn’t think this old flame you had for your ex wife was this bad.” sanzu says teasingly with a laugh at the end smacking rindou on the shoulder.

rindou scoffed.“this is just for precautions, I don’t want just some jackass around rika.”

“just sounds like you’re studying him, trying to see what you need to apply huh to get her back huh?” that gets sanzu a slap to the back of the head and a chuckle from ran.

MITSUYA TAKASHI

a amazing father to his baby girl, never misses a birthday, holiday. He’s always creating things for her instead of you spending money like a cozy sweater for winter and a purple stuffed bunny with button eyes for her to snuggle when he’s not there.

He knows his place as a ex husband well, he keeps his love for you at distant but still it shows with his actions. He knows how independent you are but still he likes to help you out.

“mitsuya I’m good I promise. I’m a big girl, a cold ain’t ever stop me from getting anywhere.” you say it with a runny red nose making him do a small smile at how cute you looked with it.

That explanation didn’t stop him from walking you back into your house with him following. Originally he came to check on you since the weather forecast predicted it would be a cold windy week, he thanked his conscience for checking up so now he could stop a sick you from going to work.

“nonsense, what kinda man would I be to just let you out in the cold with a runny nose huh?” he was already looking around on your living room couch for a cover to warm you up in.

“just stay there, can’t just let the mother of my kid just be sick.” a half joke from him while he went to look for tea in your cabinet.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: 8:45 PM 🔞

Tags/Warnings: Adult, smut-heavy, making out, Idol!Jungkook, Fluff, Established Relationship, implied foreigner!Reader, not home AU though, Jungkook struggling hard, misunderstanding, angst with happy end, emotional smut, oral (fem. Receiving), protected sex bc this is me writing this and I teach you kids the true life lessons

Lenght: long.

AU-Masterlist

Languages are marked as English / Korean.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He still can't believe your first time got interrupted by something as ridiculous as his manager calling him.

It's like a reminder that his career will always somehow wiggle itself between him and whatever happiness he tries to find outside of it- nothing ever truly personal for him, everything always meant to be well thought through so it fits into his public persona.

But he refuses to give you up, even knowing all of that.

Apologizing for it just feels.. odd now, like bringing up something awkward you did ten years ago that everyone forgot about anyway before you decided to rekindle the memory in their heads. But the problem here, right now, with you, is that he knows he should bring it up. Somehow. Because he's struggling hard to keep himself in check, even having had to embarrassingly rub one out in the shower this morning after you'd made yourself tea in his kitchen wearing nothing but a shirt and panties.

It's a problem.

He's hesitating to initiate anything now mainly because what if it happens again? He can't just put his phone on silent and ignore what could potentially always be very important calls from people who only want what's best for him in the long run- real life doesn't work like those movies where the protagonist throws it all away for his girl. He wants to, he truly does- but at the end of the day, he's also scared, because if he falls, he'll potentially take you down with him, and God knows how deep he'll fall with where he stands right now.

A drop from a height this high would shatter you inevitably, and he's sure he'd crack like delicate porcelain just as much by having to watch you suffer the consequences of his actions. You don't deserve that.

"..-ungkookie?" You try again, and he snaps out of his thought, looking at you.

"Hm?" He responds, looking at you next to him.

"I asked if you want me to cook for us tonight. Is that alright?" You wonder, and he nods, eagerly so, because of course he'd love to have you do something so domestic with him. He's always dreamed of being able to experience these things after all, despite his curse of being a public figure who's not supposed to appear unavailable. "Alright-!" You hum. "Gonna have to put pants on now though, gotta go get some groceries.." you whine under your breath as you stretch on the couch naked feet pushing against his thighs and oh, how your back arches-

No, bad brain. Not right now.

"I'll give you my card, hold on." He tries to save himself, getting up to fetch his wallet as you begin to laugh.

"Jungkook baby, I can cover some groceries, don't bother!" You argue softly, getting up as well before walking over to him. "You'll just have to survive some minutes without me, that's all." You tell him, hugging his middle as you put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "Also, people would think I'm a gold digger for using a black card looking like.. well, me." You joke, as he can't help but reach out to affectionately brush some hair out your face, hands holding your cheeks.

"M'sorry." He mumbles, and you part a bit from him, serious at his tone of voice used.

"Hm? For what?" You wonder, and he sighs. Why did he bring it up now? This is going to be so awkward, he already dreads it. But now that he's put the noose around his neck, he might as well stand on the chair too.

"Yesterday. Or.. day before? Technically it was, wasn't it.." he rants, before sighing. "I hate that we.. had moment, you know, and then.. nothing. Ruined." He complains softly, and you can't help but look at him affectionately. He's such a soft soul sometimes, worries about so much that doesn't even need to be worried about.

"Jungkook, it's fine." You answer.

"Not fine-" he shakes his head. "Not fine, I- ugh, I want you, you know? Want to, but now, it's awkward and I don't know how to initiate it because every time I plan to I keep thinking of that moment he called and-" he groans in frustration, head thrown back before he looks down at you. "I'm sorry." He apologizes yet again, and you laugh.

"I forgot to pack socks for this trip, that's why I'm always barefoot in your apartment here." You say, and he blinks once, twice, before he looks at you, confused but amused the same.

"What?" He questions, tilting his head for a split second and you shrug.

"Now I've made an awkward moment for myself too. We're even." You explain, and he laughs.

"Thats not how that works-" he wants to argue but he inevitably leans down to kiss you- a peck quickly deepened by you, because God knows you want him just as much. But the struggle of initiating isn't solely his alone, because you don't know how to either. All is still new with your relationship, you don't even live together at this point in time, only a week more and you'll be back home trying to figure out how to move most of your stuff to his country so you can be closer. This was all a test, after all- to see if it's worth it. If you'll be okay.

And you know now, you'll be just fine with him at your side.

"Hm I need to get going now though-" you say, trying to escape him now- but he won't let you, hands firm on the small of your back as he keeps you against him, lips chasing yours making you giggle as you lean back as far as you can. "Jungkook!" You laugh, but he just playfully bites at your neck.

"No, I'm hungry." He mumbles against your skin, and you look at him, pushing against his chest.

"Yeah that's why I have to go? Get everything to cook?" You remind him, but he shakes his head, gaze making it clear that he doesn't care for that.

"Not.. that." He tells you. "Hungry for you." He says, raising his brows and you laugh at how ridiculous he's being. How can he be both so cute but also attractive at the same time? It's truly unfair.

"You're so cute." You tease, catching him off guard to escape his grasp and run into the bedroom to get some proper pants at least. But he's faster, palm slapping flat against the wood of his door before the momentum of his move slams it into the wall with a loud noise, making both of you jump for a second before he stalks towards you.

And once the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed, you know you lost.

It's like his patience had finally snapped, his hands eagerly helping you out of his shirt, happily running his palms over your skin, warm and soft as you move around a bit to get comfortable. He sighs when his phone vibrates somewhere close- probably having fallen out of his pocket on the couch earlier, and you laugh, visibly uncaring of his misery. "Go get it." You tell him when it sounds again, and he groans out loudly as if he's in pain, angrily stomping back into the living room, where you can hear him answer the call with an annoyed tone to his voice. It surprises you when he walks back into the bedroom however, pointing to the shirt you're attempting to put back on, before he motions for you to put it back on the floor where he'd thrown it down earlier.

Just what is he thinking right now?

"Yeah, that's fine." He talks into the phone, his free hand untying the strings of your sweatpants, before he pulls on the hem, tapping your hips as if to silently ask you to lift them so he can get you out of those pants. "Not right now, but tomorrow is fine." He continues to talk to whomever is speaking to him over the phone, while simultaneously running his hand from the side of your knee, up to the hem of your underwear, the last item of clothing covering you at the moment. It's oddly exciting to see him so serious, yet clearly more focused on you than anything else.

You've never felt so adored before.

His fingers slip underneath the side of your panties, teasing you, so close yet way too far from where you'd like his hands to be most right now. And he's clearly aware of it too; if the hooded eyes and the small smirk on his lips was anything to go by. "No, right now.. I'm pretty busy. Sorry." He speaks again into the phone, thumb running over the dip between your inner thigh and your by now more than aching heat. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip for a second, before the whole thing visibly seems to edge him just as much- then tent in his pants evident.

"Alright, yeah, just- text the schedule to me and I'll talk to you tomorrow about it, okay?" He offers into the phone, moving to stand up and search for something in the drawer of his bedside table- colorful foil package pretty obviously hinting at what he means when he's said he's currently busy. "Alright, hmhm, yup- bye." He rushes out, ending the call before he throws his phone somewhere onto the shirt you'd been wearing, his eyes rolling in an annoyed manner before he takes off his own shirt, joining you on the bed.

"Did you really hang up on him like that?" You wonder, giggling when he has to sit back to slip out of his loose grey sweats as well, jumping on one foot for a bit as his other gets stuck in the fabric for a second.

"I'm not sorry." He shakes his head, crawling closer to you on the mattress to get a hold of both sides of your panties. "I've got my hot girlfriend all pretty and ready, no one can ever blame me for being needy." He shrugs, shaking his hair out of his face before he tries to pull your underwear off. "Hey come on now!" He whines almost, a stark contrast to the tattooed, muscled appearance of him currently already flushed and fully erect, straining against the cotton of his own underwear.

"Needy." You tease, and suddenly, as if you'd pushed a button, as he suddenly pulls on the fabric with more determination, successfully getting rid of the item of clothing with a gaze that screams fake innocence. Jungkook isn't new to sex, and neither are you- but it's the first time doing it with each other, which naturally places a bit of pressure onto you.

Or maybe it usually should be like that- because somehow, it all comes naturally.

When his hand finds your heat, you're already melting underneath his gaze, no words spoken as he leans further over you, catching your lips again. Only that this time, he truly seems hungry; no longer offering you fleeting pecks but desperate kisses that try and convey just how much he wants you right now. He knows that he could never truly make it clear to you though- because he himself doesn't even know if that's possible.

He's never wanted anyone so bad.

And while usually not too fond of it, his need to prove himself as the perfect lover- emotionally and physically- makes him detach himself from you for a second, before he adjusts his position, leaning down to have you lay your legs over his shoulders, hands holding your thighs apart as he lays his mouth onto your heat.

It's an entirely new experience for you, and he knows.

But luckily, if your Impatient whining was anything to go by, you're definitely enjoying yourself as he flattens his tongue over your sensitive nerves, eyes focused on you while he has to use a little strength to keep your legs apart, especially when you grow close to your first orgasm. He's eager to see it, moving away to gain a better view before one of his hands finishes the job, gaze on you as you arch your back and come undone from his actions.

And its now that he really can't take it any longer.

"Fuck I need you." He curses under his breath, finally getting rid of the last item of clothing he still had on until now, no need to give his length any form of help to get ready for you. He can't help but groan a little under his breath at how sensitive he feels, rushing the act of wrapping the condom over as to not rile himself up too much.

After all, he wants to be inside you for his own orgasm, no matter what.

"Hm I'll go slow, ok?" He asks, and you nod, hands reaching out for him, making him chuckle. "You're cute." He comments, earning a roll of your eyes in return. He lets it go for now- giving you a pass this time, but only because be truly feels needy now.

He'd love to tease you a little, make you all whiny and desperate for him, but right now, he just wants you as close as he physically can get.

Though in his haste to get onto his own road towards pleasure, he never forgets you- pride swelling as he watches you hold onto him, wanting him just as much as he wants you. He's a little sweaty already, and the sheetsbare tangled badly at this point from all your squirming, arousal already staining some parts of them but right now he really can't bring himself to care.

He uses one of his hands to aid him in finding your entrance, positioning himself to carefully push himself inside, and at this point, he just feels as if he truly became one with you. It's the last key experience in a way he's had to have with you, and now that he's in exactly that moment, things start to feel real.

"I love you." He almost whispers into your neck while he starts to move. "I'm.. so grateful you're here." He tells you, hips moving at a steady pace. "I want you to.. stay forever." He almost asks, in a way, and while you can't give him an answer to that right now, you probably will later.

After you're back with the normal thinking human beings, because right now, with his pace and strength gaining as he chases his high, your head is definitely unable to form thoughts.

In a way, he loves the sight of you like this. It's awfully sinful, a sight only he wants to ever be able to see, no one else.

He can't control his own noises at this point, uncaring of his groans of pleasure as he chases after his peak, noticing you growing antsy as well, visibly eager to cum as well. And he will make sure you'll get your attention as well- he'd never let you down, ever.

And with his hand reaching in between you both to find where he needs to be, you're gone and out; head thrown back into the pillows while he pushes himself in deep, condom filling with his seed while he slows down into almost no movement at all.

Catching his breath, he leans down to you to kiss you once more, ticking of his clock on the bedside table coming back into the background noise, as well as the cars outside from the opened window, and your breathing underneath him. His senses return one by one as he pulls himself out, moving to get rid of the condom and start the shower.

"Come on." He asks, tapping your thigh, but you just whine all grumpy at him. "Noo get up, get up- the bed's all messy and we're too.!" He laughs, all energized from his own afterglow, while you seem to be the exact opposite, having to be physically pulled into a sitting position by your wrists. Jungkook himself can't help but simply laugh, before he takes matters into his own hands, lifting you up over his shoulder-

And of course, landing a loud smack onto your butt for good measure.

[loveswrites]

hi love, I don't know exactly if you write reactions, I thought I would found something like this on tumblr but I didn't so i'd like to request a reaction of the vampires (in general, not just the Cullen's if it's ok, of course) to reader being their blood singers, like how would they deal with it and stuff (don't need to be poly if you don't want to)

thanks lovely <3

Head Cannon Cullens x Reader X Volturi Reacting to you being there blood singer.

Hi love, I hope this was kind what you were talking about. I've never done one like this before but I think this is what you meant. I hope you like it. I didn't get around to doing everyone but let me know if you would like me too.

Love <3

Word count: 871

Edward

~ Avoids you constantly until his curiosity gets the best of him. Always quoting Curiosity kills the cat. It’s like he forgot he himself was the cat. Yearns to be with you 24/7 but also aches to be away from you 25/8. The fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you kills him inside. The fact that he might be the one to lead you to your death kills him even more. Can’t help but to love you up close instead of afar. If he went more than a week without your scent he loses focus that he can’t regain. 

“Edward.”

“Edward!” Emmett yelled, snapping Edward out of his lovesick high.

“What?” Edward frowned, eyes still unfocused. 

“He’s doing it again!” Emmett yelled, shaking his head.

Jasper

~ Jasper would have the hardest time out of all of them. Jasper being scared of hurting you would over shine his love for you. But the fact that he’s even trying to have this much restraint when it comes to you shows how deep his love goes. He wouldn’t trust himself to be alone with you for more than two minutes. So count on spending constant time together with him, Edward and or Alice. 

“Come closer Jasper, Please I trust you.” You pleaded.

“I can’t.. I really wish I could But.. I’m just not strong enough.” Jasper stood in a corner with his eyes closed tightly. 

You sighed in slight disappointment. 

“I’m truly sorry, darling.” He spoke softly.

Alice

~ Alice would be one who can handle it as long as your blood stays in your veins. The moment it’s reached the oxygen of the outer world she gets upset at herself for her personal faith being so weak. Even though she’s seen that she never hurts you in the future she wonders if it’s her constant worry that keeps you safe from her nature. 

“You told me you wanted to take me shopping today.” You smiled at Alice. 

“I’m sorry but today won’t be a good day we’re going camping today. It was late notice.” Alice responded upset that she doesn’t know how strong she is when it comes to you. 

Carlisle

~ Carlisle though your blood, your scent is more tempting. He wouldn’t have much trouble with it. In fact your scent would be calming to him at the end of the day. After a long day at the hospital surrounded by so many scents of others yours is the only one he couldn’t wait to smell all day. 

“I missed you today.” He said smiling as you kissed his lips softly.

“Long day at work?” You smiled back.

He silently nodded softly stroking your hair. The simple act of love was like it made your scent smell sweeter. He was in love. 

Rose

~ She hates you at first. She takes pride in the fact that she’s never had one drop of human blood. And then here you come like you were made to be her number one temptation. And she hates you for that. She doesn’t talk to you. She doesn’t look at you. She stays ten feet away at all times. You and Alice became friends so the fact that you're sitting in her house. On her couch. Making the house smell like nothing but temptation from the devil himself she hates. She feels like Edward, which she also hates.

“Hey Rose!” You yelled trying to catch up with her. She brushed past you when you got up to greet her. 

“Rose?!” You yelled once again. Slowing down you frowned. 

Why doesn’t she like you?

Caius

~ You would have to build a very strong connection with Caius for him to even care to keep you alive. Once he smelt your scent he wanted nothing more than to drain you dry and watch your body go limp. In fact he got a thrill out of the thought. But he thought blood singers only come once in a lifetime and to kill you now would be a waste. Especially since in his lifetimes of living he’s never smelt a scent like yours. As your connection grew because your life literally depended on it he thought Maybe I’ll just have a sip every now and then.

“I love this painting.. What does it mean?” You asked, hands gliding against the moist paint. 

“It represents the desperation of death.” Caius spoke, wrapping his arms around your waist hiding his face in your neck hovering his fangs over the very line of your life.

Jane

~ Jane she wouldn’t know what to do with this information. Does she just kill you and get it over with or does she play with her temptations? She’d keep you around But when upset she can be very hostile and her actions may be unforgivable so keep your distance when you hear she’s had a bad day.

“Jane I saw this beautiful hair pin that I think would-”

“If I just suck you dry do you think you’d still be able to talk this much?” She spoke glaring at you with her piercing red eyes.

Once no answer came from you as you stood there with wide eyes she simply walked away from you.

[leviraaaaaa]

Mornings. (Levi x reader)

::postwar!Levi/domestic!Levi, working reader::

"...Lev?"

"..hm?"

He hummed softly. He had his head buried in your chest, arms wrapped around your stomach, his eyes closed.

You smiled a little at his sleepy voice, running your hands through his black hair, the soft threads tangling around my fingers, your nails scratching his undercut. You looked down at his peaceful face and almost considered shutting up, just to let him be in peace.

"You gotta let me go, you know. I have work to do."

"...its the fucking weekend, shut up."

"I have a paper and I have a deadline."

"Don't care."

His arms tightened around you, digging his face deeper.

"Come onnn," You squirmed against his hold, laughing. "I promise I'll be done quickly. The rest of the night, I'm totally yours."

"...mine?" He looked up through heavy lashes.

"Mhm. Let me go?"

He did. Groaning, he let you go and rolled over. "One of these days, I might just burn those damn papers down."

You sat up properly, swinging your legs over the bed. It felt surprisingly empty now that you didn't have him so close to your heart anymore. You leaned over to him to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

"Mhm, don't worry, you're still my number one."

Just as you were about to stand up though, arms snaked around your waist. And before you knew it, you were pulled back into the bed. His body embraced you, your legs caged between his.

"Hey–we talked about this—" You laughed, trying to escape his iron grip around your waist.

"Kiss." He mumbled against your neck.

"What? I gave you one."

He shook his head. His soft hair brushed my ears, sending tingles over me. "No, that wasn't a proper one."

"You're clingy"

"And you love me."

"That I do." You laughed.

"You also didn't say that after you woke up."

"I just did."

"No you didn't. You didn't say the words."

"Is that my crime? Is that why you imprisoned me?" You giggled as he pulled you closer to him, your back pressing against his front. He held you so hard you could barely move against him. You felt him nod.

You tried to turn around. "I say I love you to you like every 5 minutes the whole day."

"...thats not the same thing. Morning one's are special." He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. "It means you think of me when you wake up."

"Levi." You snorted. "I wake up right next to you everyday, how could I not?"

"...not the same thing." He mumbled.

"Okay, fine." You accepted defeat. "I love you. So so much. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you that. I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper kiss. I'm sorry. Yeah?"

"Hm." You felt his lips against your throat. Instinctively, your head tilts to give him more access. "Still not letting you go."

"Why not?" I apologized."

"Don't care. I'm more important than papers."

"Of course you are, but-"

"Shh." His hand covered your mouth. "I'll help you finish it, so just...stay with me."

You considered. He was too warm, felt too perfect against you for you to actually even try and struggle. You sighed.

"I'll hold you to it you know."

He only hummed.

"You know, you can't just hold me down whenever you feel like it." You turned around, pressing your forehead against his. "You're going to get me fired one of these days."

Levi exhaled.

"You're mine anyways. Everything about you." He peered at you through half-lidded eyes. "Mine, you said so."

"Yours." You confirmed.

Nobody else was even worth looking at when you had him like this.

@sad-darksoul

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

How the bucci gang sleep hcs

This has been in my drafts since January wtf

BRUNO BUCCIARATI + LEONE ABBACCHIO

all over the place

there is not a single time where these two have woken up in the same position they fell asleep in

like they'll fall asleep spooning, then they'll wake up with half of Bruno's limbs zipped off and Abbacchio sprawled across the bed in a position that looks uncomfortable with her foot in Bruno's face

one of Bruno's legs is probably on the floor and Abbacchio is most likely cuddling one of his arms

they're just used to it at this point

"Leone can you pass me my leg?" "m'kay"

Narancia came in to wake them up one time and screamed because Bruno zipped his head off in his sleep

Mista and Trish teased him about it for weeks

anyway i bet on my life that Bruno and Abba bring out their stands in their sleep

just randomly while they're sleeping Sticky Fingers and Moody Blues pop out

they just look at each other, then down at their users, then back to each other

they end up cuddling too (SENTIENT STANDS SUPREMACY)

it's so cute when Bruno and Abba wake up and see that their stand are cuddling

also Bruno's hair may look perfect 24/7 but in the morning it's SO. FUCKING. MESSY.

he has to immediately brush his hair so no one sees it like that

except Abbacchio

SPEAKING OF ABBACCHIO

when she wakes up her hair is also a mess

just slightly less messy

she has breakfast before she does anything else, then she immediately does her make-up

also don't be surprised if Bruno has Abbacchio's lipstick stains all over his body in the morning

it just means he sucked some girl dick last night

usually on those days Abbacchio wakes up with smudged make-up that she forgot to take off

also Abbacchio has frequent nightmares and often times wakes up in the middle of the night

she doesn't like telling anyone and calms herself down before going back to sleep

Bruno knows about it though

GIORNO GIOVANNA + PANNACOTTA FUGO

these guys are like the opposite of Bruno and Abba

they'll fall asleep cuddling and wake up in the exact same position

usually Fugo's the big spoon because he doesn't like being the little spoon

brings back bad memories y'know?

but anyway they sometimes also bring out their stands in their sleep

GER most of the time

it just likes to pop out to see what's happening

sometimes in the morning when Fugo wakes up, he'll roll over and see GER staring him dead in the eyes

he screams loud enough to wake everyone up

nara, mista and trish all tease him about it

"Did someone get scared~?" "SHUT UP NARANCIA! IT WAS JUST STARING ME DEAD IN THE EYES!" "Pussy lmao" "MISTA" "Nah the boys are right, you are kind of a pussy" "TRISH!"

sometimes purple haze comes out while Fugo's asleep

GER just pops out and hangs out with ph for a bit

anyway Fugo's hair is always a pain in the ass when he wakes up

as for Giorno... uh...

picture Dio's hair but longer

he looks like a younger version of shadow Dio too in the morning lmao

also Giorno bites shit in his sleep

and he's got some sharp canine teeth

the pros of being half-vampire

don't be surprised if when they wake up there's bite marks on Fugo's arms

or if Giorno's biting a pillow

if Giorno's had a stressful day he might move around in his sleep too

not much usually, but one time he ended up sleepwalking

Fugo woke up in the middle of the night and noticed that Giorno wasn't there

panic

he eventually found Giorno wandering around the garden and muttering to himself

it was really funny when Fugo snapped him out of it

then they went back to bed and Giorno bit Fugo's hand so hard it drew blood

true love at it's finest

sometimes Fugo has nightmares and Giorno has to wake him up

on more rare occasions Giorno has a nightmare and wakes up Fugo because he's trembling and shaking so much

GUIDO MISTA

snores

that's about it

he'll sleep in any position there is possible and he'll be comfy in all of them

he's also the deepest sleeper in the team

this guy moves around a lot too

he'll fall asleep in fetal position against the wall, then he'll wake up halfway across the room with his blanket tangled in his legs

sleepovers with him are a nightmare because not only does he snore, but this man also sleeptalks

one time Narancia and Trish were sleeping in his room and they woke up to him mumbling about how far his ass is

they recorded it in case they ever needed to blackmail him

but yeah this guy is a mess

He sleeps naked too

Balls out and everything

Unless Trish and Narancia are sleeping over

In thy case he leaves his pants on

Also on hot nights he SWEATS

This guy naturally runs warm, he gets hot during the night

NARANCIA GHIRGA

Eeperton

Bro sleeps like a baby

Nara just kinda sleeps wherever

He hardly even uses his own room unless someone carries him there

Honk mmimimimi honk mimimimimi

Also they sleep with their blanket wrapped around them like a cocoon

My guy is snug as a bug in a rug fr

This mf does not make ANY noise in their sleep

Completely silent

The amount of times people have thought they were dead because of this is quite a hefty amount

Sleeby

The missile is very sleepy

If they sleep next to someone they cling on for dear life

Also they're a blanket hog

They do not move at all either

TRISH UNA

She sleeps in a princess bed

Also a quiet sleeper

But she does move, unlike Narancia

Goes to sleep like she's in a casket at her funeral and wakes up face down on the opposite side of the bed

If she forgets to take her makeup off before bed she screams and tells Giorno to buy her self-care products

Live laugh love Trish

Sometimes she sleeps with Sheila E (I wish lesbians were real💔💔)

[hansslut]

valentine's day with the yjs ୧ 💌 ୨

cw: pretty much just fluff !!! may have swear words included tho ??

a/n: made this for me and everyone else who's single on valentine's day too :l hope this make you all feel a lil better and ily mwah mwah, happy ( early ) valentine's day babes <3

NATALIE SCATORCCIO

- pretends she hates valentines day and everything that has to do it but deep down she adores it

- will stand awkwardly looking at the different kind of chocolates and sweets and being like "uhmmmm.....reeses are never a bad option i guess?" ALSO I FEEL LIKE she'd ask other people buying stuff for their partners what they're gonna get them cuz she's so confused 😭

- we all know she's a sucker for kisses, cuddles, holding hands, AAAANYTHING that has to do with physical touch but hates showing it so i think she'd use valentine's day as an excuse to be publicly affectionate a bit

- ok that's all i might add more later on

JACKIE TAYLOR

- she's OBSESSED with holidays and celebrations, whether it's valentine's day, christmas, anything

- waking you up at like 7am and being like "hi hi valentine hey you're my valentine it's time to wake up my valentine" while shaking you and smooching you all over

- she's never letting go of you on vday. always clinging by your side, holding your other hand while you're brushing your teeth, talking to you from outside of the door while you're on the toilet, hugging you by the waist when you're cooking

- wearing ridiculous matching outfits with her in PUBLIC. i feel like she'd have those shirts that say "their queen" AND YOU "her king/queen/monarch(☠️)" OR GETTING YOU THOSE SILLY LIL HEADBANDS THINGIES WITH THE JIGGLY HEARTS..

- knows exactly what to buy you and she's already gotten everything prepared😭 it's adorable cause she'll give you a gift of something you forgot you wanted and you're just sitting there standing like :O

SHAUNA SHIPMAN

- ditches you for jackie. end.

- JK. i think she'd just treat it like a regular day honestly

- gets you a chocolate and calls it a day but not in a bad way??? LIKE she already loves you and does a lot of things to show it so she doesn't really think valentine's day is necessary

LOTTIE MATTHEWS

- she's suuuuuuuuch a softie for showing you off and getting to shower you with gifts :(

- she wouldn't wanna go out too much, she'd probably have everything set out already. your gifts hiding in the closet, your sweets hidden in the fridge, everything prepared and on point

- i feel like since some of the yjs were mean to her and telling her to just stop talking and stuff, she'd be kinda closed off at the start and she'd be scared to show you how much she loves and adores you, but then when she sees that you accept and give her the same love back and even more she's SOOOO hyper

- writes you cheesy letters that you keep in your drawer forever and probably even little drawings of your favourite things or you and her 😭

VAN PALMER

- THE SILLY!!!!!MAI SILLY!!!DE SILLY!!!:DD

- arcade dates w them on valentine's day or going like on an amusement park☝️☝️

- they'd go print out some silly t-shirts for y'all... like "i love my van" with a picture of a van LMAOO and they'd make you wear it all the time

- if you want to do smth on that day, you BET you will. they'll never let you down i SWEAR they're the sweetest pookiest babiest to ever exist :(((((((((

TAISSA TURNER

- hates valentine's day more than anything... "what the fuck im NOT wearing that" when you ask her to match outfits with you but does it anyway

- she's miserable doing anything on valentine's day cause she thinks it's cringe but warms up to it when she sees how happy it makes you

- she's the girl that said "happy wife happy life" btw so she'll do anything u ask her to no matter how much she despises it which is.. a lot probably

- gets you a chocolate and takes 2 hours to decide if she should write you a corny letter with it and she scribbles down some ideas but then just puts :)

LAURA LEE

- as a christian we shouldn't be celebrating vday but im not really that religious so????

- but laura lee is so anyways she would be all like "im not going to sin, i don't want to disappoint my lord" 😭😭😭

- she'd still go on a date w you, well more like flower picking and stuff and she'd probably pull out the the bible and start reading to you but you love her too much to say no so you just listen

- ok yeah that's it end of post mwah mwah

[sku11s1asher]

hi! i loved what you wrote for my request 😭 it was so cute, i didn't really specify it bc i forgot but yeah u did it amazing <33

and yeah u can totally make a part 2! actually i was thinking about it bc i can imagine a meeting between furina and the natlan archon while neuvi and reader are just giving glances to eachother 😭 reader looking like a total meanace but in his mind like "damn he's handsome" almost burning his cheeks and the seat lmao

neuvillette x m! reader (part 1)

note: ngl i feel like i do good at posting then smth with school pops up and i don’t post for like a month.. sorry y’all. also please tell me im not the only one who’s been on and off sick for the past month, rn i have a runny nose and a sore throat AGAIN. i just got over that like, barely 2 weeks ago.

tw: y/n is a bit of a weirdo with his thoughts since he doesn’t understand anything w/ love, internal homophobia (not really but kinda?), y/n is all over the place

After centuries of fighting, killing, and not showing emotions to anyone, all that can end because of a guy with beautiful long hair. The more y/n thinks about it, the more embarrassed he gets. He’s known for being a fearless and intimidating warrior, just for that whole facade to disappear just over a man out of all things.

This whole scenario came into place because his nation archon just had to have a meeting with Fontaine's archon, Furina, at least y/n thinks that’s her name. The meeting consisted of figuring out how to make the justice system within Natlan better and a way to make transportation easier between the two nations. y/n didn’t pay attention to the little details, he was only there to ‘protect’ his archon and make sure things went smoothly.

However, he didn’t realize that the other archon would be bringing a guest with her until a day before the meeting. It did tick y/n off a little bit that he would get notified so late but does it really matter? All y/n is doing is protecting and making sure everything doesn’t go south.

Well, it did go a bit south, as soon as Furina's guest arrived, y/n's mouth went dry. That man did things to him that he didn’t even know could happen. Maybe it was the long hair on the other man that made y/n feel warm inside, it definitely couldn’t have been the slight scent he had. No, definitely not.

Okay, y/n takes that back, he feels like he’s getting intoxicated by the proximity of the other male. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the guest, was a dragon, all it took was a quick look and a secret deep breath to figure it out. He had it figured out, his body wasn’t used to being by another dragon, and he hadn’t seen one in what, centuries? This feeling would go away in maybe 20 minutes, hopefully.

20 minutes later and y/n feels like he’s going to light the whole place on fire. His whole body feels like it’s melting, and to no one’s surprise, it’s all due to the long-haired man in front of him. The stranger might genuinely be the hottest person y/n has ever seen in his entire life. That long hair makes y/n want to run his fingers through it, maybe brush it, but that might be a bit too much to think about.

Once y/n saw the man look at him, he quickly looked away, how embarrassing.. he got caught staring hardcore. He took a deep breath before listening back into the conversation, “Ah, yes, I suppose it would do both nations good to do something like that. Maybe combining a bit of power.” the lovey talk of archons, always talking about power; like it’s the only thing that matters to them.

Power is important though, y/n is in the position he’s in right now because of how powerful he is. In complete honesty, he’s probably too powerful for his own good, only knowing how to use it to protect his nation from people deemed as enemies; even if they aren’t in the public eye. Power rules everything at the end of the day, nothing can function without power.

The more he listens into the conversation, the more he realizes he was glad he was never born as an archon; he’s been around one most of his life and it’s always been boring. Listening in did provide small details though, like the mysterious man’s name.

While y/n was somewhat able to keep his focus off of the other dragon in the room, he managed to not burn anything. But, he had a feeling his archon caught on as they gave him a questionable look; it was a very subtle one that only he could catch onto but it was obvious they knew something. Nothing is going on though, right? The man can’t help it if he gets a bit flustered whenever he remembers Neuvillette is near him.

Gosh, y/n probably looks like a blushed teenager who just confessed to his crush. Well, he at least thought he did. To everyone else though, he looked like he was on guard and was going to fight anyone who even took a step too close to his and the Natlan archon's bubble. y/ns hand accidentally gazed at the chair near him, which caused the leather to burn where his touch was. Good thing no one was looking, right?

y/n couldn’t wait any longer for this meeting to be over, his brain was thinking too many things while he was focusing on every single move everyone else did. It would be overwhelming for anyone who wasn’t trained and as skilled as he was, but that tiny overwhelming feeling didn’t compare to how fast his heart was beating. y/n hoped the other male couldn’t pick up how he was feeling, thankfully Fontaine's archon seemed to be happy with the deal she and the other archon came up with.

In Neuvillette's mind, he could tell that the fire dragon was on edge. He could also tell how much the dragon was staring at him, it was a little nerve-racking. Once Neuvillette caught a glance at the chair that was touched, it made him a bit surprised but he didn’t show it. Maybe he would talk to the other male after the meeting, for work-related things of course!

[candyfsh]

.ᐟ.ᐟ bed chem (nonsexual) ༉‧₊˚.

by candyfsh

a/n — this is the roomie thing from the poll btw!! also how are we liking the new layout..... idkkk

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y/n and dallas both live up in the apartments in buck's bar. it isn't the best place, but it was good enough, plus, y/n knows dallas. they aren't good friends or anything. they actually tend to avoid each other, but they don't not like each other.

they both have their differences. a lot, actually. she's a girly girl, he's obviously not. she's normally a people person, while he aims to intimidate others. she goes to school, he doesn't. etc, etc. but they can't not like each other. they just avoid each other because of the amount of differences they have. they don't have anything in common.

tonight, y/n is fumbling with her shower and the knob that turns the water on. she groans, unable to figure out what the issue is. she'd ask buck for help, but he's busy bartending.

although it might be awkward, maybe she could ask dallas for help. she'd just need to wrap a towel around her, of course. so she quickly does that, and exits her bathroom. she holds her arm tight around the towel as the other arm reaches out to open her bedroom door.

"dallas?"

after a moment, she can hear a faint, "what?" come from his room. she approaches his room, but stays outside. she pauses.

"can you help me with my shower, please?" she asks politely, but it's clear she's impatient with the dumb shower.

he pauses before responding to y/n, seemingly thinking about it for a second. "i don't know how to do that, man. that's som' for a plumber or whatever."

there's a bit of a silence. dallas doesn't seem to care much, and y/n's just wondering what to do. she doesn't want to ask if she can use his shower.

"yknow what?" he speaks up through the door. she perks up a little bit, wondering if he'd offer up his shower or not. fortunately for her, he's feeling generous. "jus' use my shower, mkay?"

y/n smiles. "thank you, i'll go get my clothes."

not like he's totally immature, or not like he doesn't think she's attractive, but a small shudder runs through his body at the realization that she's probably naked in front of his door. he doesn't respond to her. he just focuses his eyes back on the tv and he brushes his hair back.

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dallas swears he heard the water running for an hour straight. he probably didn't. but once the water turned off in the bathroom, he didn't know exactly how to feel. even if y/n was in his bathroom, it felt kind of nice to have her in his room.

the bathroom door opens, so dallas perks his head up to look. a towel is wrapped around her body and she's brushing her hair out. she makes little eye contact before moving out of his room and going to her own. he furrows his brows. she's leaving and she didn't even get changed?

fortunately for both of them, she was just grabbing products she forgot in her own bathroom. she quickly returns with a small amount of skincare items and a bottle of perfume. dallas would never in a hundred years mention it, but he loves the smell of her perfume.

y/n leaves the bathroom door cracked. dallas looks back up at his tv, before deciding to make conversation.

"what's all that shit you brought in?"

he could hear a quick "hm" sound from the bathroom. he's not sure if it was directed towards him or not.

"skincare," she replies. "don't you use it?"

boys don't often use skincare products. they never really have, and they probably won't in the future. who knows, though?

with a light-hearted scoff, dallas responds to her innocent question like he's too good for that kinda stuff. "no."

"my mistake." y/n says in a quieter tone, as if she was telling a secret to whoever was in the next room. she's quiet, but not too quiet. she's not loud, either. "i thought you used it."

dallas furrows his eyebrows again and looks toward the door. he's not insulted or offended, anything like that. just kind of surprised.

"how come?" he asks.

she gives that soft, quick "hm" sound again. "your skin is pretty. i've felt it, too. it's smooth."

he doesn't know how to take this. it sounds nice, since she complimented his skin and called it pretty. but this isn't the type of compliments he's used to. almost every girl that compliments him calls him the typical lustful terms. it's new.

"...thanks."

a soft chuckle could be heard from the bathroom, then a drop of the towel. he looked away from the door as she shut it completely. they could still talk, though.

"should i make my next comment sound more normal and not with...cannibalistic undertones?" she asks with the cutest little laugh dallas has ever heard.

he can't help but let out a small, scoff-like laugh. he shook his head, as if she can currently see him.

"i didn't take it that way, 's alright." dallas chuckles breathily.

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after y/n got ready for the night, said her thanks to dallas and left his room, he had this nagging feeling in the back of his head. he can't quite identify it. but it has to do with her, and that's all he knows.

and as though he summoned her, y/n knocks on his bedroom door. it's about 9:30 pm or 10:00 pm, somewhere in between. this is usually when she gets ready to sleep, so he assumes it's buck.

"come in."

he knows it's not buck anymore by the hesitant turn of the knob and the slightly slow door pushing. she smiles softly at him.

"i don't think buck likes me, dal..." that's the first time, or one of the first times she's used one of his nicknames. it sounds so sweet coming from her. "my heater isn't working for tonight."

dallas gives her a look of feigned annoyance. he scoots to the other side of his bed and pats the spot next to him. y/n seems relieved that he let her in. he doesn't do this often. maybe because she's kind of his roommate? maybe because she's so unlike him, he just can't say no? who knows?

she approaches the bed and sits down next to him, then leans back against the extra pillows.

his bed is nothing bigger than a twin bed, so hopefully, they'll both adapt. dallas is used to having a girl in his bed. maybe this just feels different because y/n is not his type. but if she's not his type, why does he get this weird feeling as he sees her in his bed? and why does he feel a skip in his heartbeat as he smells her perfume?

"yknow, my room ain't the warmest, y/n." dallas points out, his eyes on his pretty roommate. she looks up at him and smiles softly.

"i know," she glances at his tv, which is playing some old western film. she looks back up at dallas. he's right, his room isn't the warmest. but it also isn't really cold. just chilly. "but i figured body heat would be beneficial, right?"

he tilts his head to the side slightly, and a tiny, harmless smirk forms on his lips. he likes the way she thinks, even if it is a basic way of thinking. he'd never do that. if he's cold, he sucks it up.

"yeah. yer right."

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