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ktownshizzle · 22 hours ago

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A Christmas Encore | Part 2 of 2

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy, sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), Christmas cliches, Yoongi at the Christmas concert is this right here), mild angst, cursing, minor mention of the pandemic, penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Yoongi's company/job is vague (it's fine!), did I say cheesy??

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: January 13, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. Sorry it took a while to get this out! I was being a little scrooge by the end of this (who knew Christmas fics can be super challenging?) I do hope you enjoy part 2 of my little Hallmark-inspired Holiday gift. Enjoy! 🫶🏼🎉

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Yoongi doesn’t make a big deal out of your first date, but it still feels perfect. He takes you to a quiet café just outside town, the kind of place you’d never think to visit but where the coffee is rich and the pastries are warm.

The conversation comes easy—too easy, maybe. You laugh more than you have in weeks, just like old times. As you talk about the coming concert, an idea pops in your head. It’s not that serious, if anything, you just want to tease him a bit. “Maybe you and Hobi should do a breakdance routine at the show!”

He slurps the final dredges of his coffee, blinks up once, before blatantly ignoring you.

“Oh, come on, you really don’t miss breakdancing?” you try again.

“I don’t miss it. Do you?” He raises a brow.

“Miss what?”

“Miss him.”

Suddenly, you’re the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Oh, Yoongi…”

He averts his gaze, lip curving in the barest of ways before he looks down, poking the base of his glass with his straw. He’s a little embarrassed.

You sigh, endeared to no end as you see the tips of his ears growing red by the second. You decide to take him out of his misery. “No, Yoongi, I do not miss Hoseok that way. We’re really just friends.”

Yoongi groans, slouching back in his chair, and, not gonna lie, it makes you feel some typa way.

You wonder if he sees you now as some homie hopper slash town harlot, which fuck him if does so you ask. “Does it really bother you?”

Probably sensing the weight in your voice, he leans forward quickly and takes both your hands to reassure you. “Fuck, no. I’m just… shit I’m so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You shrug.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back, but his gaze lingers on you, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Yeah, it took us only all of a decade and a half,” you roll your eyes. “A literal pandemic had to happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you again with his piercing stare—apologetic, maybe. “I’m not too late, right?”

You think you might just melt if it wasn’t below zero outside.

When Yoongi invites you back to his parents’ house that night, you don’t hesitate.

You head straight to his room and it instantly feels smaller than you remember, even if you were just there weeks ago. But it’s still so homey and familiar, full of little remnants of the boy you used to know—the boy you loved before you knew what it meant to really love someone.

And then he kisses you again, over and over, against the poster-covered wooden door, and all the years you spent apart fall away like snowflakes dissolving against your skin.

The way you make your way back to each other is slow and careful, but it doesn’t take long for the tension that’s been building for weeks to snap. His hands are warm against your skin, his lips soft and insistent, and when he pulls you onto the bed, it’s with a gentleness that leaves you breathless.

He sits by the headboard, guiding you towards his lap. He bites his lip as you situate yourself over him, grunting when you make contact against his crotch.

“Is Teenage Yoongi losing his mind right now?” You joke lightly, straddling his hips as you start unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your red lace bra.

He growls, actually growls. “Who cares about that loser,” he pulls you to capture your bottom lip while you shrug your blouse off. “Present Yoongi is so fucking hard right now, do somethin’ bout it…”

“Ohhh shit, Present Yoongi gets to make demands?” You plant both palms against his (apparently) really toned chest. Who knew?

“Present Yoongi hopes you’d do something about it,” he amends, taking one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist, once, twice, then leads your hand where your bodies are connecting.

He was not lying. In fact he may even be underselling it because while you cannot wrap your head around his sheer solidness, you certainly want to wrap your mouth around it. Shit.

You clamber off him, taking him by surprise, and he looks like you slapped him across the face.

“Relax, I got you, baby,” you say giggling as you guide his legs to swing over the side of the bed. “Go on, take that off,” you gesture to his pants while you peel yours off with a shimmy. And when he sees that all that’s left is the matching lace panty, his clothes immediately fly off to join the rest of yours.

The sight of his cock leaves your mouth watering, and you sink to your knees without further ado. You grasp his thick, velvety shaft, pumping lightly before guiding the tip towards the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the head once like a lollipop, releasing it with a tiny pop, repeating it as your eyes lock on him.

“Shit, I knew you’d look good on your knees,” he goads, biting his thumbnail with a smirk playing in his lips.

You decide you wanna erase the cocky grin on his face. So you draw him in quickly until he hits the back of your throat, the skin of your lips almost splitting from the sudden stretch. He stutters. You let drool coat his warm cock as your tongue glides up.

His deep, gravelly fuck, baby spurs you on, but also makes your basement gush. His voice is just… Ugh. You’ll deal with your own needs later, because you are on a mission.

You suck him like you’ve got a point to prove. Like he shouldn’t have left you all those years ago. Like he should’ve parked his ass right here and maybe you could’ve given it to him every damn night. Just like this.

When you hear the shortness of his breath, you know he’s really getting to it. So you suck him so damn good he’s left wondering how you got that good.

“A-a-ahh, hold up,” he stammers, stopping your movements with a gentle pull of your hair.

You sit on the balls of your feet, wiping your chin with the back of your palm. It’s your turn to have a cocky grin.

“You…” he shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “My turn.”

He yanks you from the floor and throws you into the bed. And the next thing you know your panties are almost ripped from your legs and you’re spread open on top of his navy duvet like a Sunday feast.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, nosing your pussy gingerly, before giving it a whiff. “Fuck you smell so good.”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, propping your upper body with your elbows to watch the debauchery unfold. Or at least you hope so, but it seems like he wants to make you beg for it with the way he's leisurely blowing air across your damp skin.

“Please…” you beg, body tingling with desire.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” Yoongi says looking up at you, before licking a broad stripe across your cunt. “A lot.” He does it again, tongue digging a little deeper to flick against your clitoris.

“Shit,” you tip your head back, already in a haze of lust. “Me too…”

“Really?” He shifts his position, then runs his knuckles up and down your glistening folds, each joint nudging your clit as it glides.

A cold shiver travels down your spine. “Oh god yes…”

“How are you already this wet?” he chuckles, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling your leg up one shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you plead. “I didn’t tease…”

“Liar,” he says with a sinister grin, now toying with your hole with his index finger and looping your slick around like he has nothing better to do.

What in fresh hell is he talking about? And also, goddamit you need him inside you literally yesterday and he's still clowning around.

“I didn't tease you…” You whine, needy.

“Oh, but you did,” he mumbles against your skin, biting the soft flesh so close to your mound before laving it with his tongue. “Made me think you had a boyfriend, when all along, I could’ve given you this...”

You gasp as he inserts his finger inside you and already you clench around the lone intrusion.

“And this,” he adds another.

You don't even realize you're bucking your hips up until he guides you back down with an infuriating smile. “Easy, baby, we got all night.”

“But, your cock. Need it…”

“Maybe. You gon’ be a good girl for me?”

You nod. Yes, you want to be his good girl.

Finally he gives you mercy, and his mouth connects with your clit and sucks and you feel like heaven. Two fingers slide in and out of you in practiced strokes. You're already so wound up, it doesn't take long for you to kiss euphoria.

“Feels so good, Yoon…” You fist his sheets, back arching up, as you feel your demise fast approaching. He notices.

“Let go, baby.” he says, before the furious lashing of his tongue resumes against your nub.

Keeping the pace steady, he curls his fingers just slightly, allowing the pads to massage your walls until he finds the one spot that–

Fuck.

Light bursts behind your lids as you come, fast, hard, loud with a prolonged moan of his name.

Your back meets the bed’s plush as your orgasm washes over you. But before you come down, you feel a fresh surge of bliss as Yoongi takes a nipple inside his mouth, giving it tiny nibbles.

Your free arm reaches for his cock. He lifts his hip up slightly, so you can give it a few lazy strokes.

Before long, he shifts completely, leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead in feathery strokes. The ache inside you both lingers, unsated, but the world seems to slow around you. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves—his lips tracing a delicate path along your face. He presses soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheek, and the curve of your jaw, each one deliberate, each one unraveling you a little more.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says before meeting your mouth for a kiss so sweet, your head is in the clouds again. “Do you still hate me, baby?”

You kiss him back, your reply coming in breathy cadences as your lips melt against each other. “I… don’t think… I ever could.”

And it’s true, wrapped around each other like this, the pains of the past slowly ebb away.

You feel a small smile on his lips, maybe a hint of relief. His tongue pushes in yours as you feel his cock rubbing up against your pussy lips, both of you breathing heavily with the delicious friction. He ruts up a few more times before you feel his blunt tip breaching your entrance, not going all the way in but teasing it in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more and now.

“Get in me, Yoon. Want it…”

His reply is the push of this thick cock inside you, slow and slick, before he bottoms out with a grunt. You keen, your body bowing towards him on instinct, legs wrapping against his back.

He fills you up, wholly and completely, with every smooth stroke, your walls flutter around his girth and your heart is thumping against your ribcage, but you know it’s not just the ecstasy from your impending release. It’s from the way your eyes meet and you feel like you’re drowning again. Just like you did the first time. And you don’t ever want to come up for air.

“I’m so close…” your voice is strangled when you say it, your fingers clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot under your ear, licking it, encouraging you to take it with whispers you can’t decipher. Your brain is so fucking empty, and all you know is every fibre of your being is submitting to him at this very moment.

“You feel amazing, fuck,” he grunts, tone as desperate as you are. “You gonna cream for me again, huh?” His thrusts get faster, deeper and it feels like your about to tip over the edge.

“Ah– baby, I’m coming…” Your entire body quivers against him as intense pleasure racks your body.

The rest is a blur as your eyes flutter shut, and Yoongi groans as he spills his seed against your clammy skin, hot liquid pooling on the inside of your thigh.

Later, after he cleans you up and gives you the cuddles your tired body craves for, you’re tangled together in the sheets. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re hit with de ja vu.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.

This time, you believe him with all your heart.

The days that follow feel like they belong to someone else. Someone living a life where everything falls perfectly into place—where the person they once thought they’d lost forever suddenly fits back into their world like they’d never been gone.

The tree lot smells like pine and cold, sharp winter air. You rub your hands together to keep them warm, your breath fogging in front of you as Yoongi stands a few steps away, examining a tree with a furrowed brow.

“This one’s perfect,” you say, pointing to the lush, symmetrical pine beside him. The store owner even added some gold tinsel on it to dress it up for buyers, making it look super sunshine-y and brilliant.

He turns, glancing at the tree. “It’s too… obvious,” he says, his lips twitching. “Look at it. It’s trying too hard.”

You laugh. “How can a tree try too hard?”

“It’s trying too hard to make you take them home,” Yoongi says, moving down the row. He stops in front of a shorter, slightly scraggly tree, with whitish branches and paler pine needles. “This one’s got character.”

“It’s literally lopsided… and so pale…”

“It’s cool,” he counters, brushing snow off one of the branches. Strangely, they even have the same height. “This is the underdog tree. You should root for it.”

You cross your arms, pretending to consider. “Or… we could go with a tree that doesn’t look like it fought a bear and lost.”

Yoongi looks back at you, his dark eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Nah, you’ve got zero vision.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of vision,” you retort, stepping closer. “You’re the one who—”

Before you can finish, he shakes a branch, sending a spray of snow directly onto your face.

“Yoongi!” you shout, jumping back and wiping at your eye, careful not to smudge your perfectly drawn eyeliner.

He smirks, unapologetic. “Underdog tree got bite.”

Later, back at your place, the tree you agreed on stands in your living room. When it’s finally lit, glowing softly in the corner of the room, you look over at Yoongi and find him watching you, his face softened by the light.

“What?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He shrugs, his gaze lingering. “Nothing.”

Your eyes move towards the tinsel and the lights, “Underdog tree does have character.”

“I fuckin’ told you.” He grabs you from behind, excited that you finally saw his vision, and plants several kisses on your cheek.

“This is a terrible idea,” you mutter, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, already gliding onto the ice with an infuriating amount of ease. “Just let go of the railing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?!” you sputter, inching forward like a baby deer learning to walk. “This isn’t natural. People weren’t meant to stand on blades and slide around!”

Yoongi smirks, skating backward so he can face you, his movements smooth and effortless. “Aren’t you the one who’s lived here forever? Shouldn’t you be the pro?”

You shoot him a glare, your knees wobbling. “Skating and living in Seollim Hollow are not the same thing.”

“Sure they aren’t,” he teases, extending a hand toward you. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me.”

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, you release your death grip on the railing and grab his hand. The ice feels impossibly slippery beneath your feet, and your balance shifts precariously as you stumble forward.

“Whoa—” Yoongi steadies you, his grip firm. “You really suck at this, still.”

“I told you, ughhhh,” you grumble, trying not to panic as he starts pulling you along.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, clearly holding back a laugh. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly as your skates skid in opposite directions.

“Not on my watch.”

Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours as he leads you into the center of the rink. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go, guiding you with patience as you wobble and shriek your way through your first lap. By the time you’ve gone around twice, you’re still far from graceful, but at least you’re no longer clinging to him for dear life. -ish.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

“No thanks to you,” you retort.

“The fuck?” he says, letting go of you abruptly and you shriek, flailing.

But he captures you effortlessly and spins you around and suddenly you’re hugging in the middle of the rink. You’re still catching your breath when you look up at him, then he leans down and kisses you.

“Is this some kind of fantasy you’re trying to fulfill, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Then, he leans in again and from the corner of your eye you spot a mom shielding her son from the sight of you and Yoongi, before your eyes flutter shut.

“I forgot you always liked to yap during movies,” Yoongi says, mouth forming a straight line.

“This movie’s so boring,” you reply, gesturing at the screen. “How can you be into this? It’s so… predictable.”

“That’s the point,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “Christmas movies are supposed to be predictable.”

Despite your apprehension, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, tolerating the movie and before you know it you’re engrossed with the plot, because, umm, it’s actually so good?!

“Omo! He came back for—” you turn to him and well, he’s fallen asleep, like the bobblehead toy on your car’s dash.

You move his head gently against your shoulder, his breath evening out. For a moment, you consider waking him, but instead, you let yourself relax, leaning slightly into his warmth.

From this view you can see his long lashes, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips and you’re suddenly flooded with emotions that you thought you buried so long ago. Maybe it’s meant to be this time. So you allow yourself to quietly admit it.

“I love you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you.

The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as the two of you walk side by side, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. The town is quiet at this hour, the streets lit by the faint glow of holiday lights, and for a while, neither of you says anything.

“I used to hate this,” Yoongi says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?”

“Winter,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The cold. The snow. I felt… stuck. Like nothing ever changed.”

You glance at him, your breath fogging in the air. “And now?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. “It doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The words are simple, quiet, but they satisfy you in a way you don’t expect.

At some point, Yoongi bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, tossing it lightly at your shoulder.

“Fuck! Did you just—”

“Snowball fight?” he interrupts, smirking.

You retaliate immediately, grabbing snow and throwing it at him with no hesitation. The two of you dissolve into laughter, dodging and weaving through the empty street until you’re both breathless and covered in snow.

“Truce,” Yoongi says, holding up his hands.

“Fine,” you reply, grinning as you catch your breath.

For a moment, you just stand there, the snow falling softly around you. Yoongi’s eyes linger on yours, his expression softer now, and your heart stumbles at the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” he murmurs, gesturing around him. “For reminding me why I came back.”

You and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels almost too good to be true. Mornings at the cultural center turn into afternoons spent working side by side—him scribbling notes onto sheet music while you answer emails and manage ticket sales. Sometimes, you’ll both stop to grab dinner at the little diner down the street or head back to your place where you cook something simple while he steals pieces of food off your cutting board.

Nights are quieter. Softer. When the world feels too still, Yoongi finds his way to your side—whether it’s a late phone call or the two of you under your duvet.

You don’t talk about what happens next. You don’t ask if he’ll stay when the concert is over, and he doesn’t offer to explain.

The night of the concert is perfect.

The performers are brilliant—the children’s choir sings their hearts out, the folk band gets the crowd clapping, and the dancers earn a standing ovation. Yoongi’s arrangements tie everything together seamlessly, each note lifting the room higher and higher until it feels like the entire town is glowing.

Before he goes on stage, Yoongi gives you a mini heart attack. He tells you that he’s playing a different piece. Trust me, he says.

You don’t say much after, because while you don’t like to be blindsided for an important night like this, you also trust his judgment.

And when Yoongi takes the stage, sitting at the piano under the soft glow of the stage lights, you think you might actually cry. He adjusts the mic, shakes his newly dyed black hair, and starts to play. It’s a song you’ve never heard before—something gentle and wistful, the kind of melody that wraps itself around you like a memory. You watch his hands move across the keys, effortless and sure, his expression soft with focus, and you realize you’ve never seen him look more himself than he does in this moment.

Suddenly Jungkook’s angelic vocals slide seamlessly through the melody, “Was it honestly the best…”

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope that the best is yet to come.

When the concert ends and the crowd finally clears, you and your team stay late, cleaning up the venue, storing props, and celebrating quietly with a bottle of champagne Jimin “borrowed” from the local bar. Yoongi stays, too, quietly helping to pack away cables and lights while Jungkook regales the group with exaggerated stories about the night’s performances.

It’s not until the clock hits two in the morning that you’re finally back home, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of the show.

When you wake the next morning, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Today is the day. Today, you’ll know if it was enough.

The cultural center feels too quiet as you sit at your desk, staring at the final numbers. Your chest feels tight, the numbers swimming on the page no matter how many times you try to tally them.

You didn’t raise enough. You’re 10 per cent short.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut, and you have to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself. It’s so close—painfully close—but it’s not enough. And you ran out of time.

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab your coat.

Mr. Choi doesn’t look surprised when you tell him.

“You did good,” he says, though his voice is heavy with finality. “But it’s not enough to match their offer. I’m sorry.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, the desperation creeping into your voice. “What if I talk to the buyer? What if they’ll accept—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You can try,” he says reluctantly. “The buyer’s representative is still in town.”

Your heart skips. “Who is it?”

He flips through a file on his desk, his tone casual as he reads the document, “Min Yoongi.”

The room tilts. You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Who?”

“Min Yoongi,” he repeats, glancing up at you. “He’s the representative for the corporation looking to buy the property. I can give you his e-mail address…”

The words hit you like ice water, each one sinking deeper until you can’t breathe. Yoongi.

It doesn’t make sense. How could he—?

Why would he—?

You don’t even remember leaving the municipal office. You don’t remember driving to Yoongi’s house, pounding on the door.

“Yoongi.”

“Hey,” he starts, his expression shifting when he sees your face. “What’s—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. Just tell me the truth, Yoongi. Were you ever going to tell me you’re the buyer?”

The color drains from his face. “You found out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you snap, your chest tightening as the hurt spills out of you. “You fucking lied to me, Yoongi. This whole time—why? Why would you let me fight for this place if you were just going to take it away?”

“I wasn’t going to take it away,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Not anymore.”

You stare at him, disbelief crashing into you. “What does that even mean?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It means I didn’t know what this place still meant to you when I came back. I thought it was just another deal. Another property my company wanted to acquire.”

“And when you did know?” Your voice cracks, your anger laced with pain. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Yoongi hesitates, his hands curling into fists. “Because I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. You ruined it anyway.”

“Stop,” he says softly, reaching out, but you step back. “Let me finish.”

“No.” you say. “This,” gesturing to him and you, “is finished.”

The next few days are a blur of misery. The maknaes try to distract you, but nothing works. Yoongi’s absence feels like a physical thing—an ache that sits heavy in your chest no matter what you do.

The memory of his voice echoes in your mind, soft and broken, but it only makes the pain in your heart worse.

When you hear from his mother that he’s left town, it shouldn’t surprise you. Of course he’s gone. That’s what Yoongi does.

But somehow, it hurts more this time.

Christmas Day comes and goes.

For the first time in forever, you don’t get a post card from Yoongi.

The glow from your phone illuminates the room as the opening chords of Last Christmas begin to play through your Bluetooth speaker. You’re on your bed, surrounded by chaos—crumpled tissues, a mostly empty tub of ice cream balanced precariously on your thigh, and the infamous box of postcards from Yoongi spilled across your sheets.

The postcards feel heavier than they should, each one like a tiny punch to the chest. You pick one up at random—a simple postcard of a Seoul skyline dusted with snow. Yoongi’s neat handwriting is scrawled on the back: Merry Christmas. Hope you’re staying warm.

Snot drips onto the edge of the card, and you yelp, scrambling to wipe it off. “Oh my God, I’ve hit rock bottom,” you groan, tossing the tissue into the general direction of the trash can but missing entirely.

You glance at the box again, and the next card catches your eye. You sniffle harder, and your vision blurs again.

Your eyes land on one of the Polaroids from the box, its edges slightly bent from years of flipping through them. It’s an old selfie Yoongi sent—his mint green hair poking out from under a beanie, but his sharp eyes and stupidly pretty smirk still visible. “I hate you,” you mumble, though the ache in your chest says otherwise.

You grab a Sharpie from your nightstand and draw devil horns sprouting from his head, a dramatic handlebar mustache, and, for good measure, a pitchfork in the corner.

Three sharp knocks sound at the door, startling you. You quickly swipe at your face, sitting up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Hoseok’s voice calls through the door.

Oh no. You glance at the mess around you—the tissues, the ice cream, the pile of Yoongi memorabilia that screams pathetic. “Go away, Hobi! I’m fine.”

The door creaks open anyway, and Hoseok steps in, his ever-present sunshine energy cutting through the gloom of your room. You forget he knows where the spare key is hidden.

He takes one look at you—puffy eyes, snotty tissues, Wham still crooning in the background—and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wow. This is a whole ass vibe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing a pillow weakly in his direction.

He catches it easily, stepping further into the room. His eyes fall on the postcards scattered across the bed, and his teasing expression softens. “So it’s true, then.”

You blink. “What’s true?”

Hoseok sets the pillow down and walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed. He doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at the Polaroid still clutched in your hand. “I’m not even gonna ask about that. Yoongi told me what happened.”

Your stomach twists, embarrassment rising like a tidal wave. “Great. Now everyone knows how much of an idiot I am.”

“Hey,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. Yoongi’s the idiot.”

That gets a weak laugh out of you, and Hoseok’s smile widens. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It’s so warm, so comforting, that you let yourself melt into it, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how much he means to you.”

You sniffle. “Why do you sound like he’s dead?”

Hoseok laughs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because you’re acting like it.”

“Did he send you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “But he… he wants you to hear him out. He messed up, yeah, but…” He glances at the postcards again. “You guys are made for each other. That’s obvious. Even to a third party like me.”

You groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed dramatically. “It’s not that simple, Hobi.”

“Nothing about love is simple,” he says, lying down beside you. His gaze moves to the ceiling as he continues. “And honestly? You two are the most disgustingly in love people I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps toward him. “We are not—”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok interrupts, his grin returning. “Because I saw you and Yoongi making out in the middle of the skating rink. Right there. In public. In front of children.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“Yeah. Had to shield my eyes from the sheer amount of PDA,” he teases. “I almost called it in as a public disturbance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like it breaks through the heaviness in your chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He glances at the mess on your bed one more time before standing. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. But at least let him explain. You deserve to know the truth.”

He pats your head lightly, like a parent soothing a child. “Now, go wash your face. You look like Mrs. Claus who failed a breathalyzer.”

“That’s a dumb joke!” You chuck a pillow at him again, but this time, you’re laughing as he dodges it and disappears out the door.

For the first time in days, you feel a little lighter.

When Mr. Choi calls you the next morning, you almost don’t pick up.

“The offer’s been retracted,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “The cultural center is safe.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Not only that,” he continues, “but the previous buyer left a donation to help fund renovations. You can expand the center. Improve it.”

Your heart stops. You didn’t need to ask who.

You already know.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t know why today of all days you finally get a grip on your emotions. You figure today is just as good as any other to do something crazy.

You clutch your phone in your hand, Yoongi’s name glaring up at you in your call history, unanswered. You don’t know what you’ll say when you find him, or if he’ll even want to see you, but you have to see him. You have to know why he did this—why he left, why he pulled out of the deal, why he did it all without saying a word.

The hours stretch long and thin, and by the time the bus pulls into the station in Seoul, the city is already blanketed in a soft layer of snow.

The snow falls softly around you as you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment building (his eomma was more than willing to text the address), your breath clouding in the air. When he opens the door, his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything—he just steps aside, letting you in.

“I heard what you did,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “The center’s safe. You even donated to help renovate it.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft but unsteady, bags underneath it from many a sleepless night. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I owed it to you—to the town—to make up for leaving the way I did.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Yoongi. You could’ve just told me.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But I didn’t know how to. And I was scared. Scared that if I told you, I’d ruin the one good thing I’ve had in years.”

“Yoongi…”

“I stayed quiet because I thought I could fix it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I knew if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. And I didn’t want that—I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I started looking for another way. I’ve been talking to my company, trying to get them to pull out of the deal, to reallocate the funds to save the center instead.”

You blink, his words sinking in slowly. “You… what?”

“I’ve been trying to undo it,” he says, his dark eyes heavy with something you can’t quite name. “I tried to help in whatever way I could, because you—you deserve to win. You deserve to have that place. I just…” He exhales shakily. “I messed up.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, confusion swirling in your chest.

He takes a step closer, his gaze steady now. “I’m sorry. For everything—for leaving, for lying, for not trusting you enough to tell you the truth. I just…” He hesitates, his voice faltering.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you say, your voice trembling. “You didn’t have to run. I know I pushed you away when I found out that you were the buyer. But if you told it to me in the first place, I would’ve understood,” you admit, the words catching in your throat. “I would’ve believed you.”

Yoongi watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne.

“Would you have asked me to stay?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “Yes.”

The word hangs between you, suspended in the air, and something in Yoongi’s gaze softens.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly. “I’m not running. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to.”

He reaches up slowly, hesitantly, and brushes a snowflake from your cheek with the back of his knuckles. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends warmth spreading through you, curling in your chest and settling deep in your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, inches apart. And then Yoongi leans in, closing the distance between you, and kisses you. Your lips slide against his, your hands curling into the front of his sweater as the rest of your worries fall away.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Yoongi rests his forehead lightly against yours, his hands still cradling your face. Before he can lean in again,

“Come home,” you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

Yoongi looks at you with something so raw, so vulnerable, it takes your breath away. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice deep. “If you want me to, I will.”

You nod, your tears spilling over now. “I really do.”

“Good, because I’m out of a job and I need you to fund my unhealthy caffeine addiction.”

“What?”

“It’s ok, I’ve been thinking about it for years anyway.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I came to Seoul for music, but somehow I got roped into the capitalism I’ve always hated. Moving back feels… right.”

Later, you find yourselves on his rooftop, bundled together under a fleece blanket as the fireworks light up the Han River below. You share his bougie white truffle parmesan & rosemary popcorn (it’s actually good, though) and a bottle of chardonnay. You lean against his shoulder, link your hands together, hearts full of the promise of a new beginning.

You settle in your seat as the bus begins its journey back to Seollim Hollow. Yoongi had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends, but the promise of his return lingers like a heartbeat in your chest.

As the city fades into the distance, your phone buzzes with a new message.

Yoongi: Check your coat pocket

Intrigued, you reach inside, your fingers brushing against something small and stiff. When you pull it out, your breath catches.

It’s a postcard.

His handwriting is as familiar as ever, the letters neat but tilted just slightly to the left. This time, though, the message is different.

Not a simple Merry Christmas.

Not a quick Hope you’re well.

Not some generic line he thought you might want to hear.

This one has only three words.

I love you.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the card, the edges soft from where it’s been handled. The words feel heavy, monumental, a promise etched onto paper.

You press the postcard to your chest, your eyes stinging as the bus carries you closer to home. Though, when you think about it, home feels like a person you just left in a high-rise in Hannam.

A week later, you find Yoongi standing on your doorstep, that gummy smile you love lighting up his face. His suitcase sits at his side, snowflakes caught in his hair, and he looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever asked.

“Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm despite the cold.

“Hi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

And in that moment, you know—this is it. The chance to start over. The start of something real, something you both waited for, something you’ll build up piece by piece.

And finally, you’ll live a life you’ll both love.

Together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed my first Holiday fic ever. If it feels extra cheesy and sappy than my other stories, it’s Hallmark-inspired so it needed to be that way. 🙂 As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section. A reblog would also be amazing!

Thank you so much for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

And I know it’s already been days since we kicked off 2025, but I hope you have had an amazing start to the year and the rest of the days are filled with love, laughs, and Bangtan! 💜✨

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

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slytherinshua · 2 days ago

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⏾　SLEEPLESS NIGHTS　( 오시온 )

genre hurt/comfort , established relationship , sion x fem!reader cw sion is stressed & can't sleep , maybe a bit of overworking mentioned , not proofread wc 875 request anon for sion + waking up from a bad dream for the 3k event note oof this took a lil while to write and post since i rewrote it like 3 times but it's finally here!! net @ncity-net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Sion was always one to put up a bold front. He was the oldest in his team, the leader, and as such, he had the responsibility of being a rock for everyone else to lean on. The cornerstone: immovable and unshakeable. He loved goofing around, smiling and laughing, mostly at his members, the people he was closest to. It was therapeutic in a way. Seeing them happy made him happy. All the stress he put on himself for them was worth it just to see them smile.

But when he got home to you, the chance to truly decompress from that stress came. And on particularly hard days at work, or a bad week building up, Sion felt close to breaking by the time he got home to you. You seemed to always know exactly what was going on in his head and exactly what he needed to relax. Somehow, you were able to repair him enough so he felt strong again for the next day.

He wondered what he would even do without you. While everyone was relying on him throughout the day, Sion relied on you during the night. Every warm hug, comforting kiss, and soft-spoken word reminded him that you would already be right by his side, through the highs and the lows. Whatever storm clouds blackened his mind; you were right there to fight them off, to bring the sun back again.

And sometimes, all it took was some rain.

Sion couldn’t sleep well. It was unusual. The man who claimed he could easily sleep for 24 hours straight was now unable to fall into that dreamland, despite how exhausted his body was. He kept drifting in and out of dreams— all of them unpleasant. His schedule had been particularly busy that week, and his workload as the leader was especially challenging. He tried to not let it affect the team, always doing the best he could regardless of his mental or physical state. Professionalism seemed to run through his veins. He wanted to set a good example for the younger boys as well. He couldn’t show how much he was struggling as well. Not in front of them.

But, in front of you, he was able to be vulnerable. He could tell you all his worries without it affecting team morale. You were a shoulder to lean on— his comfort. He relied on you more than he would like to admit. There were always fun times in your relationship, but nothing was ever perfect. During the harder times, you held each other tighter and got through it as a team. If there was one thing you promised when you first called Sion your boyfriend, was that you wouldn’t leave him to suffer through something alone.

Sion tossed and turned, mind dizzy from the miserable dreams he was having whenever he managed to force his body to sleep. It was probably 3AM by now, and he knew he had to get up by 6. He needed more sleep.

He hated disturbing you, especially when you looked so comfortable under the blankets, one leg propped up over his under them. But he also knew what you would say if you saw him leave for work tired again. Your skin was warm, and he was aching to hold you closer. So, he swallowed his selflessness and turned over, leaving the blank ceiling from his vision and replacing it with your sleeping face.

He rubbed your arm gently, waiting for you to stir. And it didn’t take long; you had always been a light sleeper, unlike him. Once you blinked your eyes open enough to adjust your vision, noticing the outline of your boyfriend’s face and how he was awake, you knew something must be wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you sat up, fully alert by now. Your boyfriend was never awake this late in the night. You were about to reach for the lamp until Sion’s hand stopped you.

“It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep,” he mumbled, voice sleepier than yours despite his obvious lack of it.

“Can’t sleep? That is serious,” you pointed out, lying back down on the pillow. “Nightmares?”

“Yeah, I guess. I think I’m just stressed,” your boyfriend admitted, hand rubbing over his eyes.

“Work has been a lot lately. I’ll help you get to sleep. Come here,” you motioned him closer, and Sion obliged, falling into your arms with ease. You adjusted his messy hair to be out of his face and rubbed his back, hoping to lull him to sleep as quickly as possible. A 7AM workday start certainly didn’t leave much more time.

“You put too much pressure on yourself, baby,” you reminded him while your fingers traced lines over his face in a soothing manner. He hummed in acknowledgement, agreeing to your statement wordlessly.

You knew it would take more of you repeating those words for him to truly ease some of that pressure off his back, but you were determined to win the race steadily. In these simple moments, your love for Sion shone the brightest. When he was at his weakest, you were his strength. When he felt broken, you pieced him back together again. And he knew he could always rely on you.

nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7,, @kpopandbookschild,, @taroddori,, @lexeees,, @voikiraz,,

@xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows

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fangdokja · 21 hours ago

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🔞You like them crazy because deep down, you are too.

❤︎ Synopsis. Your favorite yandere is a walking red flag, and honestly, you’re just obsessed with the idea of being loved to the point of insanity. You want someone who’ll choke you with affection (literally), and hey, that says a lot about your choices… and your taste in men.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Jujutsu Kaisen Males (Gojo, Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Yuji, Inumaki, Kenjaku, Shiu Kong) x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanon. What Your Favorite Yandere Says About Your Interesting Kinks

♡ Word Count. 4,055

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, general non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age. This post is meant to be a fun, exaggerated meme—don’t take it too seriously. It’s all in good humor and not a deep psychological analysis (but maybe a little bit).

♡ A/N. So, I enjoyed making the Genshin shiz post and decided to make a JJK version. Might do a HSR one next as well... maybe. Also... I kinda went overboard here, compared to the more organized Genshin one, but seriously I was laughing while writing this. Just funny shiz post. I would say this one's more explicit though haha (no explicit sex), I had way too much fun haha, especially Naoya's and Kenjaku's.

♡ Gojo Satoru.

You have a god complex by association. You want someone who could obliterate the entire planet, but instead, he chooses to stalk your Instagram at 3 a.m. to overanalyze your cryptic "feeling lonely" post.

You’re into men who act like they’re God’s gift to humanity, and honestly? You believe them. You probably like bratty tops who think they’re in control but low-key need to be chained down before they destroy Tokyo because you wouldn’t let them kiss you.

You like men who are unbearable, but in a way that makes you want to lick their face instead of slap it. You saw him take his blindfold off once and immediately decided you’d risk everything for a man who can and will ruin your life with a smirk. Therapy? Never heard of it, because why would you need that when you’re obsessed with a 6'3" man-child whose idea of foreplay is showing off while making you think it’s all about you? Spoiler: it’s not. It’s about him, and you’re fine with it.

You like the idea of someone worshipping you, but also low-key want them to ruin you mentally, emotionally, and physically—preferably in that order.

But you’re still into being spoiled rotten—designer everything, sugar daddy vibes, and someone who’d probably keep you locked in a gilded cage. You pretend you have standards, but deep down, you’re just into being treated like you’re the rarest Pokémon in existence.

You don’t want a boyfriend—you want an all-seeing sugar daddy who gaslights you into thinking the world revolves around him (because in his mind, it does). You probably love the idea of being tied up in a metaphorical (or literal, no judgment) infinity of his obsession. Big on tease and denial, huh?

You’ve definitely thought about what his infinity could do in a make-out session and probably Googled "can Gojo turn infinity off during sex." (No, you’re not getting an answer to that.)

You're also into being teased until you're on the verge of tears, only for him to laugh and say, "Aw, you're so cute when you're frustrated," while continuing to absolutely destroy you. Bonus points if he calls you sweetheart in that condescending, sing-song voice while pinning you to the bed with one hand.

You're also into blindfolds… probably for the aesthetic, but we all know you’re fantasizing about what comes after he takes it off. You’re not scared of being kidnapped, you’re scared of never being spoiled again.

You’re also the type of person who screenshots memes and sends them 3 weeks later without context.

♡ Ryōmen Sukuna.

You're feral. You don’t want love—you want to be destroyed. You want a man who’ll treat you like garbage and somehow it’s hot. "I can fix him" but also, "I don’t want to fix him. Step on me, Daddy."

Your idea of romance is someone who could rip your heart out (literally) and then hold it hostage as you beg for his attention. You’re also too into biting. If he left a handprint bruise on your neck, you’d frame it. Low-key fantasize about getting kidnapped because you think you’d be “too bratty to kill,” and he’d find that cute.

You’re into primal domination, teeth marks, and being pinned against the wall while he laughs at your “attempt” to fight back.

You think it’s hot when men are morally bankrupt and would rather die than be called soft. You definitely believe in Stockholm Syndrome as a viable love language.

This man could call you maggot filth and you’d be texting your friends, “Sukuna said he cared about me today 🥰.” You secretly want him to slap you so hard you see the Cursed Realm.

The worse he treats you, the harder you simp. If he kills your whole family, you’d probably just be like, “They were annoying anyway, babe.”

You’re into primal play, possessiveness, and hearing “you’re mine” growled into your ear like it’s a death sentence (which, with Sukuna, it might be).

You definitely have unresolved trauma and thought “you know what would help? A walking red flag with abs.” You want someone so feral they’d burn down a village just because someone looked at you for 0.2 seconds. Also, you like men who are literally impossible to please because the idea of “earning his love” gets you off.

Your kinks? Pain. Not just physical—emotional, spiritual, metaphysical. You’re the type who thinks choking is romantic foreplay and that love should feel like a hostage situation.

You act like you hate red flags, but you’re planting them in your garden, watering them, and crying when they bloom. Therapy is not in your vocabulary.

You’re deeply into degradation and secretly believe you could “fix him.” Spoiler alert: you can’t, but you’ll die trying. You probably tweet things like “If a man doesn’t put me in his domain expansion, does he even love me?”

Bonus points if you’ve searched for Sukuna x Reader fics where he calls you pathetic but won’t let anyone else touch you.

We see you, masochist. We see you.

You also have daddy issues so big that Sukuna would probably laugh in your face while exploiting them. You’re a masochist in denial and definitely want him to choke you out with those extra hands.

You’ve 100% Googled "can I sell my soul for demon dick" and meant it. You're 100% into monsterfucking. Your search history also includes "tentacle bondage" and "can cursed energy be sexy?"

♡ Suguru Geto.

You have a superiority complex and an inferiority complex. You want someone who’ll emotionally devastate you while maintaining the vibe of a calm, manipulative cult leader. You think you’re classy, but we both know you’re just a slut for a man who says “we need to cleanse the world” like he’s ordering wine at a fancy restaurant.

You think cult leader chic is hot. Your dream date is being kidnapped and indoctrinated into a religious group. You’re into soft-spoken manipulation and think “he didn’t abandon me, he abandoned humanity.”

You want someone who sees you as the one good thing in a world full of “monkeys,” but also you secretly like the idea of being his religion.

You’ll excuse literal genocide because "he’s got a point."

You want someone who hates everyone else but you. Like, he would literally commit mass murder just so you can have a peaceful walk in the park. Into spiritual awakening, but make it horny. Imagine him whispering sacrilegious promises in your ear while surrounded by cursed spirits. That’s your vibe.

You’re the kind of person who’d get Stockholm Syndrome after two days and start quoting his manifesto back to him. He’d probably love-bomb you, use you for his master plan, and then leave you to pick up the pieces. And you’d thank him for it.

You’re into praise kink but only if it’s delivered in a soft yet condescending tone while you’re kneeling in front of him. You want someone who’ll call you his “favorite pet” while subtly threatening to end your bloodline if you step out of line.

Your other kinks? Corruption. You’re into “turning to the dark side” scenarios, and the idea of being brainwashed is weirdly hot to you. Maybe you need a therapist, but Geto would probably convince you therapists are a scam.

You probably daydream about scenarios where you “fix” him, but let’s be honest—you’d fold faster than a lawn chair if he so much as smirked at you. You want a man who looks like he listens to lo-fi while murdering people. You also have unresolved issues with wanting to “save” someone who’s already beyond saving.

You’re down bad for emotionally unavailable men who’ll manipulate you into thinking you’re special. Also, you think long hair = good in bed, and you’re not wrong.

Hair-pulling kink? Try him pulling yours while telling you you’re his only salvation.

Also, he probably tells you to call him master, and you’re into it.

Also, you’re a sucker for men who look like they haven’t slept in 10 years but can still bench press you emotionally.

♡ Naoya Zen'in.

You hate him. You absolutely despise him. And yet, why are you blushing when he calls you a stupid little slut?

You have daddy issues, but instead of unpacking them, you decided to make them worse by stanning this sexist menace. You hate him, but that’s the appeal.

Congratulations, you’re a walking meme of bad decisions, and your search history definitely includes “toxic alpha male x reader.” You don’t even want a healthy relationship—you want to be insulted creatively until you're crying, and then have him smirk while telling you how pretty you look when you break.

You tell people you hate misogyny but get weak in the knees when he says “stay in your place, woman.” You want someone who’ll treat you like garbage, then be jealous when other people try to respect you.

You think Naoya calling you a “stupid little girl” is the height of romance (because if you’re into him, you’re already used to disrespect).

100% into punishment kinks. The idea of Naoya spanking you until you cry and then calling you a “good little servant” lives rent-free in your head.

You have issues in general—daddy, mommy, and probably every other flavor. You like them toxic because boring men don’t deserve rights. You thrive in arguments, especially if you’re the one winning.

You have the worst taste in men, and you know it. You actively choose violence. You think hate sex fixes everything. Spoiler: it doesn’t. But you’ll still keep coming back for more.

You either have a degradation kink or you’re lying to yourself. You want someone to look you in the eyes and call you pathetic while simultaneously making you feel like the most desired person alive.

Into degradation? No, you’re into obliteration. You want to be called the most heinous names and still hear him say, “Good girl” after. If he spit in your mouth, you’d say “thank you” like it’s a five-star Yelp review.

You're the type to start arguments on purpose because makeup sex is your Olympic sport. You think misogyny is hot as long as it's directed at everyone but you (spoiler: Naoya’s a yandere, so he’ll worship you, but he’ll still be the absolute worst).

Brat taming. You want Naoya to slam you against a wall and hiss, "You're so mouthy for someone who's about to beg for mercy," and you’d call him an asshole just to see him lose it.

You also have a breeding kink, don’t lie.

You’re into enemies-to-lovers with 90% enemies and 10% begrudging affection.

You’re probably the most unhinged of them all. Like, “I hate him but also step on me” vibes. You’d start a fight with him for fun, only to let him win because he’s hotter when he’s smug. Also, your type in men is the human embodiment of the patriarchy, and that says a lot.

You also secretly love being called slurs in bed, and you’d let him ruin your life if it meant he’d pay attention to you. You tell people you don’t believe in second chances, yet you’d give him 47.

Naoya IS your red flag, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re also that person who gets mad when people insult your favorite character, even though your fave literally deserves it.

♡ Megumi Fushiguro.

You're into the quiet ones, but let’s be real, you know he’s one bad day away from snapping and going full “yandere shadow puppeteer” on you. You want someone who’s obsessively loyal, even to the point of chaining you to a radiator “for your safety.”

You’re that person who says, “I can fix him,” and you believe it. Spoiler: you can’t.

Soft yandere vibes are your weakness. You want him to apologize for locking you up and then immediately do it again. You cry during sex, and Megumi is your dream man because he’d hold you gently while fucking you senseless.

You’re basically the emotionally repressed type who cries over sad anime but denies having feelings. You low-key want to be fixed, but you also get off on being the problem.

Silent, brooding types who lose control just for you. You’d die if Megumi whispered, "I don’t care what happens to the world, as long as I have you," while dragging his nails down your skin.

You want a yandere who doesn’t look like one. You’re basically into emotionally constipated men who will quietly destroy anyone that looks at you wrong, but they’ll do it with zero fanfare.

Pretends he’s not obsessed, but you find out he’s been tracking your location via his Shikigami for weeks.

Slow burn? Try agonizingly torturous burn. You love the suffering.

Your kinks? Praise and ownership. You want a boyfriend who’ll carve your name into his soul and blush when you call him a good boy. You also cry during movies about dogs.

You fantasize about wholesome dates that spiral into him casually committing arson because someone looked at you the wrong way. You think being protected is sexy, but deep down, you know you’re the real danger.

You have main character syndrome, but you’re too awkward to admit it. You think you can “fix” people and are always attracted to brooding, emotionally unavailable boys. You’re the type to fall for someone because of their tragic backstory and spend hours analyzing their behavior like you’re trying to win a Nobel Prize.

People think you’re quiet and reserved, but deep down, you’re the freakiest person in the room.

Also, you want his demon dogs involved somehow, and we’re not unpacking that.

♡ Yuji Itadori.

You think sunshine boys are the ultimate bait-and-switch. You want someone sweet and wholesome on the surface but capable of going feral if someone threatens what’s his (spoiler: it’s you).

You’re into soft yanderes who make you think, “Wait, am I the villain here?” But then he kisses you with tears in his eyes and says, “I just don’t know what I’d do without you,” and you’re like, “Oh okay, my bad, ruin my life I guess.”

You’re delusional and think nice guys finish first. You believe you can fix him, even though there’s nothing broken except his moral compass after meeting Sukuna.

Your kinks? Consent (most stan a green flag king), but also low-key primal. You want someone who’s soft and sweet but will absolutely ruin you when pushed too far. Also, you’re probably into breathy whimpers.

You’re into soft yandere energy, like him cooking you dinner while thinking about how to “disappear” your coworker for complimenting your outfit. You also have a praise kink, but you want it to feel genuine. You’re high-key a romantic but still enjoy the thrill of danger.

You’re the type to fall for cinnamon rolls, but you secretly want them to have a feral, toxic side. You pretend to be wholesome but you’re just as depraved as the Sukuna stans—you just hide it better. Also, you’d probably call him “puppy” in bed, and he’d eat it up.

You probably fantasize about “accidentally” walking in on him shirtless after training.

You’re into strength kink. Yuji carrying you around like a sack of potatoes is your idea of foreplay.

If Yuji’s your fave, you’re into the gentle dom who’d snap someone’s neck for you aesthetic. He’d die for you, but he’d also kill for you. And you’re oddly okay with that.

Bonus points if you want to corrupt him because you think it’d be hot to see him snap.

You’re also the type to fall in love with someone because they smiled at you once in 2017.

♡ Toge Inumaki.

You want someone who won’t talk back. Literally. You think communication is overrated and fantasize about a partner who’ll just look at you with hungry eyes while whispering forbidden words into your ear.

You’re the quiet type who wants absolute filth whispered into your ear.

You want to be whispered sweet nothings like "sleep" and then wake up in his bed with a collar on. The duality of “onigiri” and “shut the fuck up” does things to you.

The idea of hearing nothing but the word “come” and losing your mind sends you feral.

You’re into restraint—both the literal and metaphorical kind. You’ve imagined him using cursed speech in the bedroom, and you know exactly how you’d want him to shut you up. You definitely think subtlety is sexier than overt passion.

You claim you like soft boys, but really, you’re just waiting for him to whisper something filthy in that raspy voice.

You’re into the duality of him being both your sweet protector and your most dangerous weakness.

You think “silent but deadly” is hot, but you also have a thing for guys who communicate through body language and emotional gestures. You probably have a Tumblr tag called “soft yanderes” that’s full of questionable content.

Your kinks? Teasing. You want to be pinned down, held firmly, and whispered sweet nothings in cursed speech that leave you trembling. Also, bondage. Don't not lie to yourself.

You think you’re subtle, but everyone knows you have a thing for quiet guys with devastatingly good bone structure. You’re also into the idea of being “the only one” who truly understands him. Let’s be real: you’d let him ruin your life with three words or less.

You’ve definitely thought about what those cursed speech commands could do in the bedroom, haven’t you? Don’t lie. “Stay.” “Kneel.” “Louder.” It’s a problem. You think you’re subtle, but the fact that you bookmarked that one smut fic about him proves otherwise.

You’ve also Googled "what does ‘salmon’ mean in bed" and debated buying a Toge cosplay for your next convention.

♡ Kenjaku.

You’re insane. Full stop.

You’re the type who’d fall for the villain just because they’re hot.

You tell yourself it’s because you “appreciate complex characters,” but it’s really because you have no self-preservation instincts. You’re also probably into weird shiz like non-human anatomy, but you’ll never admit it.

Let’s be honest: you’ve considered the implications of his ability to switch bodies. Your fantasies are wild, and you need a moment to collect yourself.

You want someone who’s both your daddy and mommy because Kenjaku’s body-hopping antics make that possible. Extreme levels of psychological manipulation and kinky body horror. A true deviant.

You’ve definitely read an NSFW fic about body possession and didn’t even flinch. You like the idea of someone who will tear your life apart but still call you their “greatest creation.”

You’re a mess. Like, emotionally and spiritually. You’ve been reading dark fanfics for so long that nothing fazes you anymore.

You don’t want love—you want chaos. You like characters who are 50% sexy and 50% terrifying. You probably think brain surgery is hot. You’re also into weird power dynamics where you’re both the victim and the accomplice.

You think mad scientist energy is hot, and you’d probably let him experiment on you just for the intimacy of it. You’re into power play and mind games, and the idea of someone controlling you physically and mentally is your ultimate kink. You’d sell your soul for five minutes of his attention, and he knows it. Your moral compass? Nonexistent. You just want to get tied up and brainwashed by a centuries-old freak.

You think it’s hot that he’d use your body as part of his experiments. You’d let him ruin your entire lineage for “science.”

You’re not even into happy endings; you just want to be obliterated.

♡ Shiu Kong.

If your favorite yandere is Shiu Kong, congratulations—you’re into men who could ruin your life with one smirk and a casual drag off their cigarette. You like your chaos with a suit and tie, and you’re absolutely weak for someone who looks like they’d call you “kid” while tying you to a chair in a dimly lit room. You’ve definitely fantasized about being the center of his cold, calculated obsession, probably while he’s adjusting his cufflinks and making morally questionable business deals.

You love the idea of a man who’s emotionally unavailable but physically possessive. Shiu wouldn’t say he loves you, but he’d definitely let you know you’re his. You probably have a thing for the cold, calculated type who’ll throw you a smirk that says, “You won’t survive me, but you’ll die happy.” Let’s be honest—you want someone who treats you like a business deal but kisses you like he’s closing the contract with teeth and tongue.

You’re into men who handle their business—and by business, we mean kidnapping, extortion, and murder with a side of snark. You probably tell yourself you’re into “stoic bad boys,” but let’s be real, you just want a man who can pin you against a wall and growl something like, “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart.” Bonus points if it’s in a low, gravelly voice that makes your knees weak.

You’re the type to think a cigarette dangling from his lips while he manhandles you is peak romance. He’d pin you to a desk, adjust his suit jacket, and ask, “Do you really think anyone else could handle you like this?” in that calm, businesslike tone that makes you feral. You like being dominated by someone who looks like they just closed a multi-million-yen deal, and you want him to ruin you in the same suit he wore to work.

You want someone who exudes “don’t waste my time” energy but secretly has the patience to torment you until you’re begging (for mercy or more, who’s to say?). You saw him in that suit and immediately thought, “I wonder if he’d use that belt on me?” Spoiler: he would, but only after lighting a cigarette and telling you to be quiet.

You fantasize about someone who’ll say, “Don’t get attached,” while making you fall so hard you’re practically writing your own kidnapping ransom note.

You’re also into the grudging protector trope—he’ll act like he’s just “handling business,” but the second someone else looks at you wrong, you know he’s flipping tables and snarling something like, “They should’ve known better.” Bonus points if he dusts himself off afterward and says, “Clean yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve got plans for us.”

“I’ll only associate with you in hell” energy that screams hot and toxic.

———

P.S. Actually fun fact, among all JJK yanderes, I enjoy writing Kenjaku the most.

────────────

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General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud

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thewertsearch · 11 hours ago

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The Doctor is in.

And they're a bit of a pattern-breaker, aren't they?

We've already used up every permutation of GCAT, to the point where the post-Scratch Players have been forced to share Persterchum initials with their predecessors. UranianUmbra has evidently decided they're not going to bother with all that nonsense, and has chosen a completely original handle.

That's not the only pattern they're breaking, either. Instead of pestering, trolling or bothering Jane, UU claims to be cheering her. To me, it reads as a little too saccharine for comfort - as though Umbra is trying a little too hard to seem non-threatening.

UU: good morning, lovely. ^u^ GG: Why, hellooooooo. UU: so i gUess today is finally the day yoU make everything better.

Also, they're aping Karkat's original Pesterlog, which does nothing to allay my suspicions.

Karkat originally portrayed himself as a huge asshole, but was slowly revealed to be a pretty nice guy - so, when someone uses his words, but places themselves on the opposite side of the coin, I'm obviously going to be primed for another inversion.

UU: it is the day whereafter the legendary octet of mUtUal progenitoriety will come together and heal a great breach in paradox space.

Mutual progenitoriety sounds like a phenomenon where two or more entities are responsible for each other's creation.

It's been explored extensively in art, science and philosophy, and the concept fits very well into a self-generating cosmology such as Homestuck's.

I don't think Umbra is referring to the Reacharound, though - if nothing else, the Reacharound had nothing to do with Jane. After all, her session is supposed to create an entirely new universe, and has nothing whatsoever to do with Alternia.

Unless...

...one of my oldest, most ambitious theories was right all along.

UU: a day delivered throUgh eighty billion years and foUr distinct Universal instances worth of Unfathomable tUrbUlence. UU: and while the emerald eye of this storm is fixed in the abyss forever

I assume the 'emerald eye' is the Green Sun. As one of Sburb's most critical components, it holds a place of extreme importance in the cosmos.

Which, let us remind ourselves, is a bad thing. The Sun was, after all, created on the orders of Doc Scratch, and its existence means that English can exert his influence over every session with a First Guardian - which, I'm pretty sure, is every single session.

The fact that the thing is apparently here forever is probably the worst news we've heard all Act - assuming, of course, that UU is telling the truth.

UU: today yoU are poised to escape its scowl once and for all.

Umbra seems to be implying that there's somewhere completely outside the Sun's domain - some part of reality where the mechanism of Skaia no longer applies.

That's certainly news to me - but hey, if that's an option, count me the fuck in.

UU: by skaias gUiding light, yoU may leave behind its tUrning arms of bright coloUrs and mayhem, and secUre peace for yoUr cosmic progeny for all dUration.

That said; even if you can escape into a Sburbless reality, Sburb will still exist. Skaia's mechanism will still be there, right behind you, and English will still be pulling it apart at the seams.

Like, sure. Escape the game, find a home, restore your species - but don't just abandon the multiverse to its fate. English is killing trillions, and it almost sounds like UraniumUmbra is trying to convince you to let him.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 6 #s178 #4143

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nanpecan · 7 hours ago

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₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 6

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt. 5

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you’ve now had two three four extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento, but who's keeping count.... You're preparing for your morning date at your place when you get some unexpected company.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, nanami gets a little jealous but don't worry bc I can't stand miscommunication tropes, explicit smut towards the end (mdni)

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 8.6k SORRY LOL

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: lemme start by saying im sorry for taking so long to post the next part but i have been going through it :D i am so grateful for all the positive feedback and messages i've gotten in my absence, i've missed my fellow nanami freaks, so this one is for all yall<3 also i posted this on A03 yesterday...i just feel like its faster posting it there bc im lazy. thank you to everyone for reading!

taglist at the end and feel free to let me know if you want off or if want to be added!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After about thirty minutes of scrubbing you came to accept that the pink frosting stain wasn’t going to come out of your shirt. You sighed and put down the wet fabric. Another shirt lost to your shenanigans with Nanami. You laughed to yourself as the realization hit you. You’d lost three shirts in the last four days…you should probably plan to go shopping soon. You grimaced, maybe you should have saved that extra money you’d sent your mother earlier in the week.

You went around your apartment cleaning here and there, you had found it in better shape than you remembered, but compared to his apartment you felt that yours was definitely lacking in cohesive design. Your eclectic furniture was a little bit of every style, the art on your walls didn’t really follow a theme, you just framed things you liked. You tidied up more than you think you ever had and smiled as you looked around. It may not have been much, but it was home. You felt safe here.

The building as whole was another issue. You’d frowned when you had seen the elevator was still out of order. Nanami would have to take the seven flights of stairs just like you had. You looked down at your phone, maybe you could reschedule? Meet somewhere else to have breakfast? No, he had been looking forward to seeing your apartment. It was such a silly thing but you could tell he really wanted to. You wiped down your kitchen countertops one more time before cleaning the small dishes in your sink.

You were planning on going to bed a bit earlier than usual. You were going to prep breakfast to make some pastries for him in the morning. It had been a while since you’d baked. You looked around, satisfied at your cleaning streak. You decided to shower before continuing, maybe you’d be able to catch anything you had missed afterwards.

You stepped out of the shower and walked up to the sink. What a crazy few days you’d had. You hadn’t really had the chance to be alone and process everything. You stared at your reflection as you wiped the mirror. You’d never really thought of yourself as someone worthy of being desired. An odd thing to admit, but you had also never really had the luxury of having the sort of life where that would matter. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery was a fast paced one and every day could be your last, so you often found yourself discouraged from participating in things people your age did. Dating, partying, traveling…it's not like you could afford it either. The only reason you’d really ever gone out was because of Akari. She would invite you to go out to places where she could relive her delinquent youth. She was also the reason you had gone on any dates in the first place. That reminded you, you needed to text her and see when she was free to hangout. You had a lot to catch her up on.

You walked out to your living room and sat on the couch, picking up your phone. It suddenly dawned on you that you had never gotten Nanami’s number. You seemed to remember Akari saying she gave him yours. You opened your messages and scrolled to confirm.

Something made a noise in your kitchen.

Your blood ran cold. Was it an intruder? A curse? Had something broken in? You slowly reached under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat. You sat up and looked towards the noise, but didn’t see anything. A cup holding your washed silverware had been knocked over. Okay…maybe it had just come unbalanced. You got up holding the bat up and slowly approached the kitchen. You cautiously made your way around the counter looking down and jumped.

It was your neighbor's cat.

You sighed in relief and lowered your bat. “Messi, what are you doing here?” You picked up the orange cat who meowed in return. “How have you been? It’s been a while.” He meowed again. “Really?” Meow. “I’ve been good. I met someone.” Meow. “Well he was someone I already knew.” You walked out of your apartment, cat in tow, and made your way next door. Your window had a tear in the screen and Messi had made a habit of going through it and somehow prying open your window (which didn’t lock) and wandering into your place. You didn’t mind, you had actually set up a little water bowl for him in your apartment.

You knocked on the door. “Hi, it’s Y/N. I'm returning Messi, I haven’t been home for a couple of days, so I don’t know how long he’s been in there.”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly an older lady opened the door. You had never seen her before. She looked at you and then at the cat. “Keep the damn thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice from behind the lady, your neighbor. She made her way to the door and you saw she was crying. She took the cat in her arms and held him close, starting to cry again. “Thank you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Osuke had his second trial today and was convicted,” she said through tears. Osuke was her husband.

“That stupid lawyer, I should curse his entire family,” the old lady muttered. You had a feeling she was Osuke’s mother.

“I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You had known about the trial, it had been ongoing for a couple of months now. He had been arrested after being framed for a robbery. The story you had been told was that his boss had been the one to frame him. He was a bottom tier worker, and the perfect scapegoat for the crime.

“No, thank you though,” the woman said.

“You can take the damn cat. She’s moving out of here. After the lawyer’s fees and the loss of his income she’s moving in with me, I don’t want to take care of that thing,” the older lady said.

“I’ll take care of it, please,” the woman cried.

The lady grumbled something else and went back inside. “Thank you for bringing him back.” She wiped her tears and offered you a hug. “We’ll be out by tomorrow, I can't afford the rent. I’m already behind on the last two months.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope everything works out. You have my number, call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” You smiled at her and she nodded and closed the door.

You stood alone in the hallway. Everything was so silent. You heard the women arguing again and you sighed. You went back into your apartment, sitting on your couch again. You hoped everything would work out for them. The couple next door had been so nice. Osuke and Makiko and their cat Messi, they’d lived here longer than you had. You sighed and rubbed your temples. There really wasn’t much you could do for them.

You reached for your phone again and went to text Akari.

-sorry i meant to text you earlier, and then i got distracted again. messi was in my apartment and scared me to death. -when are they going to fix that damn window for you? -i don’t mind, i love that cat. -but if he can get in so can other things, my skin is crawling just thinking about it -someone is on the road to getting uninvited from my place. -no way, you owe me from all the times I’ve let you crash at my place -damn…speaking of, when is your next free day? we need to hang out. -i can do the day after tomorrow, i have a half day, does that work? -perfect, i’m also just coming in in the morning -you can tell me all about your adventures with the old man. have you said yes to being his girlfriend yet? -he hasn’t asked me yet -boooo

You started typing when you received a notification from an unknown number.

-Did you make it home okay?- It read. You smiled. -is this who I think it is? -Y/n it’s me, it’s Nanami Kento. -then it is who I thought. I did make it home safe, I found my neighbor's cat in my apartment so I’m glad I came to check, they’re moving out tomorrow morning. -So you’re free now? -…yes ? -That’s good, get some rest. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow.

Hmm you thought he was going to ask something else. You looked at the clock. It was 7:53, earlier than you thought. I should probably get started, you thought to yourself. You pulled yourself off of the couch and went into your kitchen. You would make your dough tonight and let it proof overnight.

Overnight proofing is the best way to make bread.

You were shot back into a memory.

The best things in life are worth waiting for you know. And what’s better than fresh bread? Nothing! Ask anyone that comes in tomorrow, I dare you.

You smiled fondly as you rolled the dough into a little acorn shape before rounding it out and setting it in a glass bowl.

As you finished up you checked the time. You had gotten done pretty quickly. You just needed the topping for the melon bread, which you could make as the oven heated up in the morning. You checked your pantry one last time for brown sugar and you realized you didn’t have any. You frowned. You’d run out for some in the morning. If you didn’t go to bed soon you weren't going to want to get up in the morning.

You sat for a moment and noticed the silence again. It’s not like it wasn’t ever quiet around here, but maybe after the events of the last four days something about being alone bothered you. It surely hadn’t before.

You moved into your bedroom and lay on the bed. You usually felt stuffy in here, that’s why you preferred to lay out on the couch, at least it seemed more of an open space compared to your bedroom. But now it felt nice. You felt safe.

You stared at your ceiling. “Maybe I should call him,” you said out loud to yourself. You closed your eyes and imagined his smile. The way his perfect teeth shone, the way his nose crinkled a bit when the corners of his mouth lifted, his lips on yours. You swallowed and opened your eyes. If you let your mind wander any longer you’d be in trouble. You groaned in frustration. You missed him, how pathetic. You had always been one to make fun of how quickly people in your field tended to get together, but here you were.

You heard your neighbor and her mother in law faintly arguing through the walls. You frowned trying to think if there was really nothing you could do.

You had too much “compassion”, you had been told by one of the old professors at Jujutsu Tech. There’s no way to save everyone and to try is to doom yourself. You scowled as you remembered what he had said to you. The arguing died down and you hoped to yourself they worked it out. At least they had each other going through this. Things were tense now but hopefully they’d adjust. You made a note to check in on them tomorrow. You went to set your alarm when you remembered Shoko had wanted you to stop by her office early in the morning. You groaned and set your alarm for earlier than you had intended. Nanami said he’d be by around 7, it would have to be a quick breakfast as you wanted to get to the school by 8, you hoped he didn’t mind. You finally drifted to sleep.

You groaned as your alarm woke you up, but you quickly sat up and went to wash your face. You needed to split the dough, and lay the cookie topping over it and let it proof for another 30 minutes at least. You could run out to your corner store while they sat and you preheated the oven.

As you opened the door to exit, you almost tripped on a pile of items placed in front of your place. Cat toys, a litter box, cans of cat food, a small bed, and a note.

Messi got out again last night and I’m afraid we just don’t have time to look for him. I think he’s better off with you anyway. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If it’s too much I've contacted a shelter that would take him. Here is the number.

You frowned a bit. You loved Messi but you didn’t want a cat. You dragged the items into your apartment and quickly went out the door. You’d deal with this later, you were already running behind.

As you stepped back into the hall, winded and trying to catch your breath after returning and climbing the seven floors, you looked up to see a man in a suit knocking on your neighbors door. This wasn’t your man in a suit, quite the opposite.

You approached him cautiously. He had jet black hair, his suit was dark, and he reeked of alcohol.

“Please, just let me apologize- I did all I could. I won’t charge ya any money, just please, I’m sorry.” He stumbled as he continued to knock. You were going to have to get past him to get to your door. There was no avoiding him.

“Excuse me,” you said, announcing yourself behind him. The man turned to look at you. His eyes were tired and sleepy, he had deep bags under his eyes and his sharp nose was red. He was definitely drunk. “If you’re looking for the residents, they’ve moved out.”

“What?”

“They’ve moved out, what did you need to tell them?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?”

“I need to apologize to them. Osuke was jailed. It’s not fair. The whole system is corrupt. I should-”

“Were you their lawyer?” you asked.

“Yes,” he turned back and started pounding on the door again. “Please let me speak to you!”

“Tell him to stop that before I call the police!” an old man from down the hall had stuck his head out of his door to yell.

“Sir, no one is in there. You have to go, it’s too early to be causing such a ruckus,” you said.

“I need to apologize,” he whined. You noticed a buzzing coming from his pocket, his phone was ringing.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to you before turning back to the door. The caller ID said Shimizu. You grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him away from the door as you answered with your other hand.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello… is this Higuruma’s cellphone? Who’s speaking?” A woman spoke on the other end.

“Ah, he just handed me his phone. He’s very drunk and knocking at someone- I think maybe one of his clients' doors.”

You heard her curse, “Would you be able to tell me where he is? I apologize for the disturbance, I’ll come by to get him as soon as I know where to go.”

“Ah, yes-” he pulled himself from your grip and started going towards the door again. “Sir-”

“There is no justice!” he cried out.

You stared at him a bit shocked, what was he on about? You told the woman your address.

“I can be there in around 25 minutes. Would there be any way you could keep him put? I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

“I’ll try my best…” you looked at the man as he collapsed onto his knees, staring forward at the door. You walked over to him and handed him his phone. “Shimizu is on her way to get you,” you said. He just stared. You looked at your apartment and sighed. “Would you like to wait for her inside?” You pulled the man up to his feet and unlocked your apartment. You held the door open as he stumbled inside. You reached inside and grabbed a couple of cans of cat food to hold your door open. The last thing you wanted was for Nanami to get the wrong idea.

Once inside you rushed over to your kitchen to check on the bread. The man walked around not looking at anything in particular, but just moping. “Have a seat,” you motioned to the small table and chairs. He sat down and you turned back to your baking, unpacking the sugar you had just bought. You quickly grabbed a plate and spread the sugar, then you rolled the diamond patterned tops in the sugar. You placed the six little buns you had made back on the baking sheet. The oven still had a couple of minutes before it was ready.

You turned back to the man and were shocked to find him staring at you. “You just let a strange drunk man into your apartment, while alone?”

“I left the door open…” you muttered. “Besides, I think I could take you in a fight. I’ve dealt with worse.” He gave you a questioning look. “Would you like some water? Some tea? Coffee?”

“Water.” You poured him a glass and walked it over to him. He began rubbing his temples with his hand. He seemed to be sobering up quickly. You grabbed a couple of crackers from your shelf and handed them to him too.

“Eat something, get a grip before your friend comes to get you.”

You heard the oven ding and you walked over to put the pasties in the oven. You set a timer for twenty minutes. Looking at the clock you had about 30 until Nanami showed up, probably less since he seemed to be pretty punctual. You turned back to the man and saw he had chugged the water and was gingerly taking a bite out of the crackers. You started cleaning up the kitchen, putting the bowls in the sink and clearing off your small drying rack.

“Who is coming to get me?” he asked.

“Ah, your friend, I think her name was Shimizu,” you answered. He muttered something under his breath. “More water?” you asked.

He nodded. You went over with a pitcher and filled his cup, this time sitting down across from him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“So…there’s no justice in the world, huh?” You asked. He frowned. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to hear from my lawyer,” you eyed him curiously.

“I apologize for my outburst.”

“No, no I understand. From what I know Osuke was innocent. It must be frustrating to lose a case, especially when what happened was so unfair.” You thought back to the old woman grumbling about the lawyer. “That old lady was very angry, I can’t imagine that’s easy on you.”

His hand gripped the cup tightly. “People have no sense of understanding right or wrong. Everything is so black and white to them. But there are so many complications before you can see one or the other clearly.” He stared at the cup. “Most only see the bad, the ugly, that’s the easiest thing to pick out, the easiest to understand. I think most people assume that others are inherently bad, so expecting bad things to come from them is second nature.” You stayed silent as he contemplated his words. “It doesn’t help when your client looks like a bad guy, it’s an uphill battle, but I try I really do.”

He sighed, taking a drink of water before continuing. “ If I lose a case, it's easy to blame me. I'm much more tangible than blaming some higher power for not being in your favor. No one wants to believe that I do this out of a want to help others, they see me as wanting money, as taking advantage of those in dire situations. They only ever see me as greedy when I lose. Another bad guy. I want to help, but when it comes down to it, who am I to a jury, to a judge? I’m another bad person, defending a bad person who did a bad deed. They think if they were truly innocent I wouldn’t have to work as hard, I wouldn’t have to find such cunning ways to prove their innocence, but I try. Not out of trickery or malice, but because I want to believe that not everyone is bad. But again and again people only see me as a bad guy defending bad people, and I'm afraid I'm losing sight of what this all used to mean to me.”

You looked at the cup he was holding. “I see…” you thought about everything he had just said. You thought a part of him was just feeling sorry for himself, but other points he made were valid. There was a time when you thought everyone in the world might have been bad too. “When I was sixteen…I left my home because of an incident,” you started. “I was alone and scared and I thought that it had happened to me because I was bad.” You frowned slightly as you recalled the events. “And because I thought I was bad, I justified a lot of the things I did. I snuck onto buses and trains to get to Tokyo, away from where I was because I didn’t feel like I deserved to be there, I didn’t deserve to be close to my family. And I stole…a lot…not big things, not precious things, food mostly. I was hungry and had no place to stay and I saw others do it…and so I became ‘bad’. I became what I thought I was, what I believed the world wanted me to be.” You looked up at him, he was staring at you trying to figure out where you were going with this. “But then I met someone, someone who was good, someone who only ever saw the good in people no matter what and that…changed me.”

“Who did you meet?” he asked.

“I went to a bakery,” you smiled fondly and looked down at your hands on the table. “I had known about it since I arrived in Tokyo, the line was always out of the door by 7 am, but I had never had the chance to go in. I mean, I never even had the money for it and the owner, she was this sweet old lady and even though I was already stealing food from other places, I felt like if I stole from her I would be too far gone.

But as it goes, the more I stole, the more I felt entitled to, and after a month of fighting it, I finally gave in and made a plan.” You shifted in your seat, you had never told anyone this story. “I made a plan, and woke up early, to be one of the first in line. I was sixth or seventh outside the door, and when I finally got to go in I felt like crying, it smelled so good and it was so warm. She greeted everyone with such kindness and it was just her that day. I had seen a granddaughter with her before, but this morning it was just the lady.

“I pretended to look around, considering what to buy. I let people go in and out before I finally decided on a single piece of Melon bread, delicately wrapped in plastic. It was the most beautiful thing I think I’d ever seen. I grabbed the piece and tucked it under my arm and started heading towards the door. I turned to check if anyone had seen me and I saw her staring at me.” You laughed and shook your head. “She was just staring at me and her eyes went to the piece of bread I had tucked under my arm and you know what she did?” You looked up at him. “She looked back into my eyes, smiling the whole time, and said to come back soon. I ran out of there, terrified for my life. I thought she was going to call the cops, but there was something about her smile that just seemed so genuine.

I think I got about ten steps down the road before I stopped. The guilt was too much, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t deserve to have something so nice. I was bad, and I had done a bad thing.” You scrunched your nose. “I went back immediately. I pushed past the people in line and went right up to her and I handed her the bread back. She looked at me confused and just shook her head. ‘You can have it, it’s your first time here right? Take a seat, let me know what you think of it.’” You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I sat down and just cried while I ate it. I bawled, like people stared at me out of concern.” The lawyer stared at you. “When I finished she came up to me and asked how it was. I started apologizing profusely and she just handed me another one, and asked if I’d like to learn how to make my own,” you shook your head incredulously.

“She offered me a job and a place to stay. I still don’t understand how she was able to see right through me.” You heard the timer go off and you shot up to get the bread out of the oven. You smiled as you saw how perfectly the six little buns had crisped up. You transferred them over to a plate and grabbed one for the lawyer. You placed it in front of him. “There are bad people out there, but there are also good people. There has to be a natural balance otherwise everything would fall apart, don’t you think?” You looked at him as he stared at the pastry before him. “I can see that you really care about your clients. Even if this was a bit inappropriate to do, drunkenly asking to speak to them and all, but the right sentiment is there.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “The world needs more people that are willing to look past everything and find the good. I hope you can keep doing that.”

You heard laughter from the hallway and looked over the lawyer’s shoulder at the open door to see Nanami and a sharply dressed woman stepping out of the stairway. The woman suddenly looked at you and then at the lawyer. “Higuruma!” She quickened her step towards your place. Nanami followed behind her. “Pardon my intrusion,” she said as she entered. She stomped up to the man checking on him before turning to you. She bowed slightly. “I apologize for his behavior. This is completely out of character for him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, he explained some of what’s been going on. Do you work with him?”

“Yes, my name is Shimizu, I’m a colleague of his, I’m also a lawyer.”

“I’m Y/N, sorry we have to meet like this.” You turned your attention to Nanami who was staring at the man. “Sorry our breakfast plans got thrown around a little.”

Shimizu turned towards Nanami and then back to you. “Ah, I see...” She smiled at you. “I’ll take over now, thank you again for your help. Here’s my business card, let me know if there’s ever anything you need.” You took her card and smiled. Fancy, you thought to yourself.

“Wait,” Higuruma said. “Have my card too,” he felt around his pockets for them but couldn’t find anything.

“Don’t tell me you lost your wallet,” Shimuzu said, annoyed. She pulled out another card and handed it to you. “Here’s his card as well.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for listening to me…” Higuruma looked like he was trying to remember your name.

“Y/N,” you repeated.

He smiled at you. “Wait!” he said again as Shimuzu started pushing him out. “My melon bread…” he muttered, turning back and grabbing it off the plate. Shimuzu sighed and continued to push him out.

You watched the two bicker as they went down the hall and into the staircase. You became aware of Nanami’s eyes on you. You reached down to move the cat food out of the door frame and let the door shut. “If I ever got called to fetch you out of some stranger’s apartment after you had a drunken night out, I don’t think I’d be as calm as she was,” you said. You turned back to him after he hadn’t said anything. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea. I helped him out and we just talked.” You frowned. “I feel like saying that makes me seem more guilty, but I don’t even know why I’m defending myself here.” You turned to him and stared for a bit. “Are you mad at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“Oh.” You turned back towards the door. “You were just being so quiet…I mean I heard you guys laughing…the lawyer lady, Shimizu. She was really pretty. She looked so professional..” You smiled half heartedly. “You looked good together.” You muttered. You frowned as you realized how ridiculous you sounded. “Anyway…” you turned towards the kitchen and started walking to the counter. “I made some pastries this morning. It’s not much, but we’ll also have to be quick because I forgot I promised Shoko I’d meet her early. So I only have time to change and then we probably need to head out. Sorry for rushing things.” you frowned again. “I should have told you to stop by earlier, but I got a little distracted.”

“Are you jealous?”

“M-me?” You felt your face grow red. “No-no I’m not- why would you- why would you think that?” you laughed awkwardly. “I was just saying she’s super pretty and I’d just never heard someone laugh with you like that before I mean other than me- but I mean I guess I don’t really know you-I mean I know you but not like I know you now- and she’s-I mean she’s super pretty you have to admit-“

“I wasn’t a fan of the way he asked for your name at the end of your conversation,” he said looking down at his wrist and fiddling with his watch. “I know that look he gave you… I’ve given you that look.”

You smiled and felt relief. “Seems like we’re on the same boat.” You shook your head and went over to him, looking up with a playful frown. “Was she really that funny?”

“She was the only one laughing, I don’t think anything I said was particularly interesting.”

You thought back at the way her eyes had turned from you to him and back to you. Oh I see, she had said. “She was into you,” you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ve done that before, laughed like an idiot at someone who’s not funny because I thought they were hot.”

“Have you done that with me?” He asked.

“No, you’re actually funny. It’s never forced with you.” You looked up at him again. “It’s your fault, you’re so handsome. We have to do something about your face.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do about yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“He was quite taken with you.”

You made a face and shook your head. “Men will rant about their problems to you and then think they’re in love just because you listened.”

“Did he rant about his problems? His alcoholism? His brutishness? What was he thinking coming into someone’s apartment in that state? He’s lucky he didn’t-“

“He was having a rough time of it actually. I do feel a bit bad.” You turned back to look at the door and then the cat items. “He was my neighbor’s lawyer. They’re a young couple, the husband was arrested on some unfair charges and he seemed devastated by the outcome.”

“That’s not very professional.”

You shrugged. “I think it’s been a long time coming. Hopefully my pep talk keeps him back on track for a while longer, but I have a feeling he’s going to snap one day,” you said darkly. “There was something unhinged in his eyes.”

Nanami pulled you back and hugged you tightly again as you buried your face back into his chest. He smelled nice.

“Speaking of my neighbors. Do you like cats?”

“I don’t dislike them.” You nodded, backing out of his arms. “Why?”

“They left me in charge of their cat, Messi. Well not left me in charge, it’s more like they gave him to me. They left me all his stuff, he got out of their place yesterday before they left and somehow he always ends up at my place.”

“How does he get in?”

“Oh I guess I should show you around my apartment. Though there isn’t much to look at.” You ran a hand through your hair as you looked around. You pointed at where he was standing, next to the table. “Dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom door, bedroom door, ta da!” You smiled cheekily as you pointed back where you started. “Bet that’s the fastest you’ve ever had a house tour, huh.” He looked around slowly, taking in the frames on the wall, the knick knacks on your shelves and the books piled all over the place, stacked not so neatly. “It’s- it’s really not much but it’s home,” you said feeling a little insecure again. Maybe you should have cleaned more.

“It’s lovely,” he said. “It feels very much like you.”

“Thanks…” you said. Your eyes went to the clock in your kitchen and you perked up. “Oh wow, is that the time…”

“May I see your bedroom?” He asked. You felt your face go red again.

“Oh, sure,” you started walking towards it. “I need to change anyway, hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.” You felt the blush grow and your stomach get tingly.

You opened the door and gestured briefly. “This is it, again it's not much... I think the bed is too big for this space, but it’s comfortable.” you went around to your closet pulling out a pair of black slacks and a white button down. You laughed to yourself. “That pink frosting was not coming off of my shirt. That’s two shirts you owe me, Kento.”

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he said as he looked around the room. “What about this weekend? Are you free? I could take you shopping.”

You laughed again, “You’re like the main lead in a drama series. You’re too much, you know that?”

“Sorry?” He offered.

You smiled at him.“Thank you, but I’ll take a rain check on the shopping. I can get my own stuff. I’m hanging out with Akari on my half day, but Sunday I’ll be free,” you said as you buttoned your pants. “That is if you want to meet up on Sunday… if you’ve available.”

You turned to him and saw him blush this time. “Sunday…works.” You smiled victoriously as you walked over to him in just your bra. He stared at your face and you nodded briefly as if to give him permission to look. His eyes trailed down. “It’s a shame we have to hurry to campus. Are you sure Shoko can’t wait.”

“She’s doing me a favor by offering to teach me, I can’t do that to her,” you said. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you forward. You looked up expectantly and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled.

You finished getting dressed and you felt his eyes never leave you as you moved around. He walked behind you out of the room and into the kitchen where you proudly showed him the bread you had made.

“This is a very secret recipe, I doubt you’ll ever have one as good as this.” He looked down at the bread and smiled fondly. He picked up one of the little buns and slowly bit into it. You watched his face carefully for a reaction. You saw his eyes water slightly as he savored the treat.

He smiled and nodded. “Good.”

You were a bit confused. “Yeah…you okay?” He seemed to be lost in thought. “Kento?”

He smiled again and blinked a few times. “Yes, sorry, it brought up some memories. This is very good, Y/N.”

You smiled, deciding to not push it. “I worked at a bakery for a short time.” You looked at the buns. “They're good but you should have tried the ones where I learned… I guess people are masters for a reason.” He nodded and continued to eat.

“Did you want coffee or-” Suddenly your phone rang. You pulled it out of your pocket and read the name, Shoko.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, Y/N. I’ve been called out to do something so I won't be at the school this morning. Is there any way you could come in during your lunch?”

“I think that should work,” you said. Nanami looked at you curiously.

“Great, see you then.”

“Ooo~ is that Y/N?’ you heard Gojo’s voice in the background before she hung up.

You looked at your phone and then back up at Nanami. “So it looks like we have time after all, Shoko just rescheduled.” You sighed and leaned against the counter. “Sorry for rushing you before. Did you want some coffee or anything? I need a little pick me up.”

He shook his head, “Sit down, you’ve had a long morning. Do you mind if I make us some coffee?”

“I can make it for you, it's no problem-”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and nodded.

“Fine, let me atleast get the ingredients out for you.”

“I’m sure I can find what I need,” he said, gesturing for you to go sit at the table.

You obliged and sat down with a happy sigh. You watched as he moved around the kitchen, looking for ingredients. The coffee, the sugar, etc. You smiled as he grumbled to himself as he searched for items and he would occasionally look over at you for some guidance. You pointed at your cup drawer and he looked over at you as he pulled out two mugs. He held one in his hand and read the text.

He frowned. “I used to work at this company,” he said.

“Ah, I got it as a freebie after signing up for their newsletter or something like that, I don't remember now.” You laughed, “I wonder if you were at that event. It must have been around the time you worked there. Before I had this apartment I used to rent one close to their headquarters, so I would walk by almost daily. We were so close and had no idea.”

Nanami smiled, bringing over two cups of coffee and the tray of bread. “I don’t think you would have liked me then.”

“What do you mean?” You took the warm cup from him.

He sighed as he sat, “I feel as if I was a soulless shell of a man focused on money”

“Was?” you teased.

He gave you a look, “Am I still?” You blew on your cup and smiled slyly. He smiled, “I guess I am still focused on money, but soulless?”

“Definitely not, I can tell by the way you made this coffee,” you said, taking a sip. He shook his head and looked down at his cup. He had taken the one with his old company logo.

“Would you have liked me?” He mumbled.

“Probably not, if I’m honest,” you said bluntly. You smiled, “I hate stiffs in suits and I don’t have much money so I doubt you’d have given me the time of day anyway.”

“Stiffs in suits? Isn’t that what I am now?”

“At least you’re helping people, now. That company always had a fishy vibe, there was always a tan blonde man in sunglasses who would try to pick me up with bad English phrases.” You scrunched your face. “Sound like someone you know?”

He laughed. “Unfortunately I know who you’re referring to.”

The two of you finished up your breakfast and Nanami offered to do the dishes while you tidied up. You wiped down your counters as he rinsed the cups. You moved on to the table.

Laying on the table were the two business cards the lawyer had handed you. You examined the sturdy ivory rectangle and the elegant gold lettering of the man’s business card. Hiromi Higuruma, it sounded like a name out of a tv show. You looked up and saw Nanami staring at the card in your hand with disdain. You smiled, laughing a bit at his expression.

“Here,” you reached out and handed him the card. “Hold on to this for me, you never know when I might need a lawyer.”

He begrudgingly took the card and scanned the writing, the scowl still on his face. “I’ll keep you out of trouble.” He tucked the card into his pocket.

“Did he really bother you that much?”

“Please, enough about him,” he said with a sigh.

“I kind of like that you’re jealous,” you teased. “Anyway, what are you so worried about?” You reached out and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” You felt his cheek grow warm as a blush came over his face.

Nanami looked down at his watch, he seemed to be calculating something in his head. “We have about thirty minutes until we have to leave right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He suddenly moved closer to you, putting his hand on either side of the table around your waist. “Should we make use of our morning?”He gave you a cocky smirk as he gently moved one of his hands under your chin, tilting your face upwards.

You felt your face burning now. “What can we even do in only half an hour”

He tilted his head as he thought. “Well we really only have twenty minutes, I would allow us another ten to compose ourselves.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” you asked, laughing.

He shrugged as he brought his face closer to yours. “We can make it work.” He closed the distance between you, delicately placing his lips on yours. He was so warm, so soft. You pulled him closer, placing your hand on the back of his head and lacing your fingers within his silky blonde locks. His lips moved softly against yours, his hand gently placed on your back as he settled himself between your legs. You pulled back for a second and looked up at him. His lips were glistening with your mixed saliva and face was flush. You smiled.

“Seeing as I haven’t really had the time to do laundry, and the fact that I’m down a couple of shirts, and that we have a record of being…messy. I propose we move this to my bedroom.”

He smiled and nodded. He placed another soft kiss on your lips before backing up to let you move forward away from the table.

“I’ll try to not let it become a habit.”

“What?”

“Ruining your shirts.”

“To be fair you only ruined two, the other one was that monster.” You shrugged, “Some things are just inevitable.” You turned towards him once you were in your room and started unbuttoning your shirt. “Should we set a timer?” you joked.

Nanami set his blazer aside and loosened his tie. “We can be quick about it. We made do in that bathroom.”

You felt your cheeks go red, “Oh my god,” you buried your face in your hands and sat on the bed. You heard him chuckle and you looked up. He placed a hand down onto your cheek and you smiled at him. He slowly lowered his face down towards you and kissed your forehead. He pushed you onto your back as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. You shifted your weight as you reached down to pull your pants down. You slipped them off of your legs and suddenly felt him grab your right ankle. He smiled coyly as he placed it up onto his shoulders, you felt your face go red as you looked at him. He held your leg firmly as he lazily unbuttoned his pants and shuffled them down to expose himself. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he moved forward and ran his cock over your underwear. He moved forward, placing his knees on the bed as he brought your legs up onto his thighs. He picked up your left leg and pressed it against his side as he moved forward to kiss you. You groaned as you felt your right thigh stretch against his chest. You moved one of your hands onto his shoulder and the other laced into his hair bringing him closer. Your tongues danced as you desperately kissed him. He continued to buck his hips, running his cock over your now soaked panties. He grunted at the friction and quickly moved back suddenly. You whimpered again as your leg moved back up with him. He let go of your left leg and moved it over opening your legs wide before him. He looked up at you, his pupils wide and his mouth wet with your spit. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down your body. “Y/N…I don’t know how to explain what you do to me…” He licked his lips as he thrust his hips forward against your clothed cunt. “I apologize in advance if I’m being too rough.” He looked back up at you. “Please let me know if I’m too rough..” He moved a hand down and pushed aside the wet fabric easily.

He pressed his tip lightly against your opening. You moved a hand forward and pressed it against his abdomen stopping him momentarily. “Kento…”

His head snapped up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

There was a desperation in his gaze that made you feel a warmth in your chest. “It’s okay.” You moved your hand back and lifted your arms over your head. “Be rough with me, please…” you moaned and arched your back as you felt him dip a little deeper inside you.

Nanami quickly grabbed your other leg and pressed it back against you as he moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. You let out a yelp, which was muffled by him devouring your lips. He pushed his hips roughly against you, desperately, quickly, as he held your legs further back. You were folded over yourself and you felt the head of his cock bully the deepest parts of you. You gasped everytime he pushed into you, becoming a mumbling mess under his touch. He slipped an arm behind you and brought you closer to him and you gasped at the change in position. He had you trapped in a mating press and all you could do was mutter incoherently. “Kento!” you cried, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure. He moved his mouth from your lips and trailed sloppy kisses down to your jaw and into your neck. You felt him bite your skin gently before latching onto the side of your neck. He was going to leave a mark, you were sure. You moved your arms forward and hugged his large torso towering over you. He wasn’t slowing down and you were reaching your limit. You dug your nails into his back and you heard him hiss as he released your neck. He smiled snarkily before moving to the other side of your neck and biting down on it. You dragged your nails along his back again and he bit down harder. You cried out as he desperately moved his hips with more force, his knees slipping and forcing him deeper as he temporarily let his weight drop on you for an instant. You moaned loudly and clenched your entire body as you came. He grunted into your ear as he thrust his hips one more time before releasing with a roar.

You were both breathing heavily as he stayed inside of you for a while longer, twitching against your contracting walls. He kissed your face gently as he tried to catch his breath and you smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. After some time he finally moved back, releasing your legs which had been trapped between the two of you. He took a moment to massage your thighs in his hands. You hummed in appreciation.

You felt him move back and pull out of you. You winced as you felt warm liquid ooze out of you. You pointed to your bedside table and he quickly fetched a handkerchief to clean you up.

“I might have gotten carried away again.”

You laughed and sat up sorely. “It's only 8 am.” You mumbled. He smiled at you and you saw his eyes trail to your neck. You put a hand over the spots he had leeched on to. He smiled satisfied as he made his way off the bed.

“I’m going to take a quick shower…would you like to join me?” You nodded and scooted off of the bed. You looked at him as he turned his back towards you and winced. He turned to look. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Your back,” you said with a frown. “I didn’t realize how hard I was scratching.”

He peeked over his shoulder at the sharp red lines. “Nothing you can’t fix,” he said. He went over to you and scooped you up in his arms.

After your quick shower together you went back into your bedroom to get dressed. You looked in the mirror at your body. He had left a mark at the base of your neck, just low enough to be covered by the collar of your shirt. You looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw he was staring with a smile on his face. “I might have been caught up in the moment, but I made sure I was careful.”

You smiled back and looked at the mark again. You looked back up at him. “This…this doesn’t have anything to do with you being jealous does it?”

He blinked and you saw his eyebrows furrow slightly. “No,” he huffed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve.. “Why would you- No, I’m not-”

You laughed. “Sorry, I had to tease. I love when you get flustered.”

He sighed and came up behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do you have the lady lawyer’s card? What was her name? Shimizu? I think I should hold on to her card as well.”

You frowned and leaned your head into his. “I knew it. You’re leaving me for her.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you bringing you closer to him. He buried his face into your neck and took a deep breath. He pressed a kiss into your shoulder before moving up to kiss your cheek. “We should get going.”

You turned to look at him. “Okay.” He took your hands and lifted them to his lips to give them a gentle kiss.

“Make sure Shoko doesn’t go too far, she has a habit of getting carried away…”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5.

˚₊✩‧₊thank you for reading my way too overly complicated fic, i have so much planned and its all really self indulgent but I'm glad I can share it with other nanami lovers. i'll try to be better about posting the next part without a three month ghosting period, but in my defense the end of 2024 was out to get me....anyway much love to you all and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't -Nana

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r @naturalismi @kimkimoruo @thatvintagefanboy @lavenderdaydream97

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nectar-cellar · 3 days ago

Text

some thoughts on creating custom cars

i tried to give the hunka 711 a longer wheelbase (as pictured above) and it resulted in some trouble.

1: wheels

so the first thing i learned is: if cloning from an EA car, keep the meshes of the wheels in the same place, do not move them forward or backward along the z-axis. shifting them on the x-axis, such as making them wider/thinner, seems fine. you must keep the wheels of a custom car mesh in the same place as the ea car clone, or else the wheels will animate horribly when the car is in motion even if the bones are assigned correctly.

bloom says that if you're cloning from a Fast Lane SP car, it is possible to shorten/extend the wheelbase using his method, however i haven't tried this. i believe most cc cars (freshprince, dailycard, understrech) are not cloned from Fast Lane SP cars, but regular EA cars instead.

the joints are usually assigned this way: 1 for the car body, then 1 joint for each of the 4 wheels. you can look at an EA car for reference. it is probably best to assign the bones/joints manually as using Mesh Toolkit may assign bits of the car's body mesh to the wheel joint, causing that area to distort when the car is in motion.

2: rigs

as mentioned above, in bloom's forum post, he describes a way to edit the Fast Lane car's wheel placement by editing the RIG resource inside the car's package file.

the rig editor is an add-on to s3pe which can be downloaded here.

to edit a car's rig resource, you need to install the add-on. then: open the car's package in s3pe, right-click on the "rig" resource, then click on "rig editor".

the rig resource also controls where the sim sits inside the vehicle. if you want to edit the sim's position, this is what you need to edit in rig editor:

look for the resources with "IKtarget_seat" in the name. this controls the general seat placement of the sims in the vehicle. in the rig editor's screen on the right, you can edit the X Y and Z coordinates of the position. the X coordinate will move the sim left or right, Y will move the sim up or down, and Z will move the sim forward or backward. there are 4 "IKtarget_seat" resources, i don't know which controls the driver seat or passenger seats but you'll probably want to edit all the coordinates with the same changes to be consistent.

"IKtarget_foot": these resources control the placement of the sim's feet when sitting inside the car, like how stretched out or tucked in their legs are.

"IKtarget_SteeringWheel_01 and 02": these resources control the left and right hand placement on the steering wheel. if your sim's hands are misaligned with the steering wheel while driving, these are the resources to edit.

3: shadow meshes

in tsr workshop, each level of detail's mesh (high, medium, low) has a corresponding shadow mesh. if you've made significant changes to an existing car mesh, or if you've imported an entirely new car mesh over an EA car, you will also want to generate new shadow meshes so that the car's shadow looks correct in-game. if you do not generate new shadow meshes, you are likely to see weird misaligned shadows on the car's body, and the car's sun shadow on the ground will look off. so make sure to generate new ones for EVERY level of detail. tsr workshop has a one-click button that does it so it's pretty quick once you're satisfied with the actual car mesh. you can try generating high, medium and low LOD shadow meshes, or you can try generating shadow meshes using the high LOD mesh for the high, medium and low shadows to see if you get better quality shadows in-game.

ok so those are some not-so-obvious things i learned while working on my car projects... i hope it's useful to someone !!!

#s3cc #idk wat else to tag this

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manicpixiedreamedwins · 23 hours ago

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I’ve tried to word and reword this post at least a dozen times. I’m not sure I’ll ever quite capture what Charles means to me in one attempt, but here goes:

That scene on the side of the agency where Charles is asking Edwin what would happen if death caught them was probably the moment I decided I loved him- same hat, I thought. I have racing thoughts and fears of being separated from my loved ones too.

Same hat.

I didn’t realize what an understatement that was.

We made it to the Devlin house episode. As Charles talked about his favorite tape being destroyed and struggled through reading the Devlin daughter’s journal, I realized his home life wasn’t as idyllic as he’d wanted us to think. He’d been walking on eggshells- I could relate to that. Sometimes I wonder if he was afraid to tell Edwin because he thought he would love him less. (Sometimes I worry in the back of my mind if I tell anyone, things I did years ago to survive would make them love me less).

My heart went out to him.

Right after that, he must have wondered if he was losing Edwin to Monty. A tiny, tiny piece of me that grew up as no-one’s-best-friend, just-the-afterthought, understood him. I wondered if it would be worse to lose a best friend, actually, than to never have one. I am okay now. But there’s a part of you that is forever worried that you did something wrong.

And next episode his fears are heightened. We see why- he’s never thought he was enough. His home life was brutal. He had friends, but they are what killed him. Nothing he ever did was “enough”, and now he’s sure he’s losing his best friend even though he did everything he could to protect him.

There’s something about having an abusive parent that makes it hard to scrub the feeling of “never enough” off of you. It’s no one’s fault but theirs, but all I wanted to do was hold him after that. I see why Edwin tried to reach out.

Charles has never thought he was enough, no matter how many friends or trophies he had. Of course he went into episode five thinking he was a bad person, even though he isn’t (and I’m so glad Edwin told him, with words, he was not a bad person).

Of course he ended episode six worrying he was about to lose his best friend to a boy that just tried to kill them in the woods— or a shape shifter who trapped them in a town across the sea.

He does lose Edwin- but not to a boy. To Hell.

So Charles braves letting the night nurse look in his mind again. This moment stood out to me as a viewer- we already saw he died because he prevented a hate crime. He tells Edwin he stepped in and stopped the attack because he’s half Indian (I could go on about how much him being biracial meant to me, but I won’t here). He says he is not that different than the boy being beaten. People are right that Edwin has a strong sense of justice- but so too does Charles. Perhaps that’s why they got on so well right away.

So he rescues Edwin from Hell after persuading The Night Nurse. And as he’s rescuing Edwin from Hell, Edwin finally, finally gets to tell Charles what he wanted to say earlier.

Sometimes people erroneously think Edwin came out to Charles here. That wasn’t quite what happened- the larger arc people often erase in this story is that Edwin Payne confessed that he loved Charles Rowland. How couldn’t you love Charles Rowland, after all of that?

And Charles meet him as much as he could. He does love Edwin- he just needs time to figure the rest out. But they have literally forever. And honestly, they seemed like they were off to a pretty good start once they weren’t running from a giant spider made of babydoll heads.

So, Charles, thank you for making me feel seen. Your smile is pretty convincing. I hope you have fun growing the agency with Edwin, and I hope the afterlife is kind while you figure things out together.

#DBDAcharacterappreciationweek #Charles Rowland #dead boy detectives #payneland #Oops #sorry it just happened I love them

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puppyscatorccio · 2 days ago

Note

Post rescue Shauna, who needs loving and comfort. Poor thing, she's all skittish and jumpy too :(

✨️

mdni. no nsfw, just fluff, but i don't feel comfortable either way.

it had been so long since the yellowjackets crashed that you were certain that they were dead, that they'd never fine the plane wreck and their bodies. but when you get that call and they tell you that shauna wants to see you, you're dropping everything and going to see her.

she's like a completely different person when you see her in that hospital bed. she's pale, her hair falling in clumps, so weak and so tired. you try to be careful when you hug her (doctor's orders), but it's impossible not to. she sobs on your shoulder, holding you tight like she can't believe that you're here, that you're really here to see her.

the doctors insist that she stays for a few days, so you visit her every single day. you stay until the nurses have to tell you that visiting hours are over and even then you try to convince them to let you stay a little longer. it never works, but you try nonetheless.

when she's finally allowed to go home, you go with her mom to pick her up. you're there the whole time, holding her hand and keeping her close. ms. shipman didn't mind that you kept coming over all the time, because shauna seemed to want your company just as much.

that first night you sleep over at hers, she spends most of it just crying in your arms. you don't try to get her to speak of what happened, you just let her sob and cling to you as tightly as she wants to. you're so warm, so sweet, all the things she had missed during those harsh winters and lonely springs.

the most you get out of her is a "jackie's dead, she died, she's gone", "i lost my baby," but not much other than that. it might be better that way; you're scared that your suspicions might be true. you can't imagine how difficult it was, being stranded in the middle of nowhere and losing your best friend and your baby. you wish you could just squeeze all the pain and trauma from shauna and take it to yourself.

by this point, you're pretty much living in her house. whenever you're free from class/work, you're going over there, sleeping over, just spending time with shauna. you always catch her writing something in her diary, but you don't dare ask what it is. you know that she'll probably lash out and tell you that it's none of your business.

it's hard to get her to eat much. you try to take her to her favorite places, to that diner down the street you always went to together, to her favorite restaurant, but nothing seems to work. she'll eat a few bites and claim that she's satisfied. for the first few months, you couldn't even get her to eat any meat.

she's sad, yes, but so angry too. you can see it in her eyes, how that fire threatens to consume her every moment. you've always known that shauna had a bit of a short temper, but now, it was so much worse. you had to walk in eggshells around her on particularly rough days, but it's not like you could blame her.

in a few rare moments, she's soft. it happens once in a blue moon, but you see that anger fade away for a while and she lets herself be vulnerable, even if it only lasts a few minutes. you're there every step of the way, trying your best to help her recover from all this and she couldn't be more thankful, even if she struggles to show it.

#mdni #yellowjackets #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #📟 — ask #🗞️ — freak news #— ✨

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haedre · 3 days ago

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" (Melkor)… whose mind had always been filled with his own plans devices and gave little attention to other things" Honestly reading without the angbang lens I could totally imagine that Mairon could be doing a lot of his own things under the table while Melkor is tunnel visioning. (or reversely, considering the 'admiration' he could view this tunnel visioning as... just "visioning". or, being like a genius visionary. Which, once again directed back into angbang. lol.)

I do like the idea the Mairon know the music better and is wiser than Melkor very much ;)).

"...without becoming infected by his lust for destruction and hatred of god"

"(Sauron) deluded himself.. that the valar (influding Melkor) haviing failed" -> he does think Melkor has failed.

Side note I'm not 100% set but it also seems they should be both very high on psychopathic chart for the sheer lack of emphathy. Not surprisingly, but ngl despising elves/men for being weak is kind of a nail in the coffin. Also "always" to "break will and subordinate them" is quite a strong statement.

"But like all minds of this cast... Sauron's love... of other individual intelligences was correspondingly weaker" - and that, is definitely not as high on the chart. still high, but not like high high

"Sauron... been very like Saruman" - does that imply Sauron -> Melkor is somewhat like Saruman -> Sauron? idk.

"(domination)... became the sole object of his will, and an end, the End, in itself" And also referring the reddit post i saw the other day, it confirms that theres literally no end to that pursuit and hes for sure eternally without rest.

Mairon does sincerely think Valar/istari are colonizer / imperialists per p397. And he thinks Gandalf acted differently because of weaker intelligence and lack of skills. basically. again, using power as the sole criterion.

"But there was seen the effect of Melkor upon Sauron: he spoke of Melkor in Melkor's own terms: as a god, or even as God." - meaning, what he preached in Numenor was probably genuinely Melkor - or even Mairon himself's true pov. and that, is important. and the context of why Tolkien mentioned this in the text makes this state true. Teehee.

Melkor is the only being Mairon ever admired / admitted to be superior other than himself. per p398.

Needless to say - it is wholly possible he does all that in Numenor for himself ofc.

Melkor is afraid of being hurt p399. Cough im crying

Melkor attempted to identify himself with the flesh / physical matter of Arda.

And as per real life relationships - the talk about "priority". and Melkor's priority is clearly himself/Arda. And that has implications too. or like, just - baseline understanding.

p400 Mairon relied a lot on the melkor-elements in physical matters for his 'magic' practices.

I stopped here. again just kind of interesting that tolkien has this lengthy comparison of the two but has never once spectated about their personal relationship and implications. not at all.

#🧡#notes2 #angbang #but also more strictly just text and notes... im mostly just talking to myself lol. completely unrefined #sauron #melkor #disclaimer i never check what i said. i might be jumping to conclusions at one point or another so do your own interpretations #and the last bit - hes never getting over his 'ex' because melkor's precense is literally every where as long as arda stands like no way #side note on psychopathy: just a reference point for melkor's behaviors and emotions. i don think he is one. pathologically

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vvachillessongvv · 12 hours ago

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2024 Fandom review

💜

When I was in third grade, I wrote a short story about a girl who had been shrunken down to the size of a grape and had to find a way to grow back to her regular size. My teacher wrote a note on that story that said I should be a writer when I grow up- I held onto that even though all my adults told me writing wasn't a good career choice. I guess they never thought about the alternative, which is writing fluff and smut for free on godless AO3 😂 I can't explain how much every single comment means to me, the little community we have here, it is truly such a wonderful space and I feel like I gained so much in 2024 just by being a part of it. Thank you for being here and reading my words. I started reading and writing Young Royals fic in 2024, so it was a truly magical year.

Fics written:

First fic posted in 2024: Popcorn 2024-06-02

Something that popped into my head, and made me think "Yeah, I could probably write a Wilmon fic" 😂 it's sweet and sort of silly and it means a lot just because it's my og baby.

Last fic posted in 2024: stay with me

2024-12-31

Filthy smut with a bit of feelings, because it's Wilmon 😏💜

Fav fic I've written: Siren

This one is just everything to me. I loved being creative with it, I loved collaborating with people, I loved the slight switch in writing style to fit the time period, it is a true ode to my love of writing and Wilmon combined. Bonus, it introduced me to someone who is now a truly important part of my life.

Fic recs will be after the page break 💜💜💜

Fics read:

Who knows how many- my bookmarks are sitting at 150, but I'd say probably closer to 400-500. There's genuinely no telling 😅

First fic I bookmarked/read: I was on ao3 as a guest for a hot minute, so the first Wilmon fic I read was Fuck the Monarchy by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic (a truly beautiful place to start!) but the first fic I bookmarked on my profile is Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me on ao3

Last fic I read: I'm assuming this means the last fic I read in 2024, which would be Now we're falling like snow by @skibasyndrome I absolutely adore his fics, and this one was no different.

Some favorites I've read this year:

You are Unbreaking by @unfortunate17

This is absolutely beautiful, the premise is amazing and just so different while still capturing that amazing Wilmon magic.

Doesn't everyone belong in the arms of the sacred by @alltoowille

This one meant so much to me I was messaging the author from my personal Tumblr to tell them how much it meant to me, before I'd even created my sideblog or ao3 account 😅 it's beautiful and genuinely changed the way I look at religion

Is it over now? by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

This one is so visceral, it still has an impact on how I write wilmon, and I will probably cry every single time I go back to it

i don't feel like our love it brand new @prince-simon

This fic lives in my heart indefinitely. Prince Simon is absolutely everything to me. Not to be dramatic, but this changed my life a little.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon

This is basically what I'm trying to emulate any time I write smut. The way their intimacy is written in this smut is pure magic, the original characters have made a home in my heart and mind, and it's just one of my favorite Wilmon fics of all time

do you think you'd like me more if i was less like you by @toffeelemon

This fic meant the world to me on my genderqueer journey, in fact I'm rereading it just for the amazing gender feels.

Align by Ripki on ao3

Some of the most gorgeous writing I've ever come across. Every chapter touches me and blows me away all at once, and makes me want to write my own beautiful words

Hungry by @earlgrey-lateatnight

I have 2 vampire Simon docs and it's all this fics fault 😂 it's so hot, intimate, and written so wonderfully

now we're knee-deep in this mess by aqua_rius on ao3

This one broke me and put me back together. I had to pause reading multiple times because their pain and longing hit me so hard. It's incredible.

Love drunk and we're never sober by @caramelpenguin

This is so lovely and written so beautifully. It made a little home in my heart and I now think about it when I'm writing anything close to friends to lovers.

To hold (in return) @saynomorefic

I'm telling you, I think about this fic unbidden at least once a week. It is so soft and wonder.

and if my heart should somehow stop by @grapehyasynth

Such a unique premise, the longing and love is so palpable, and of course, the writing is just perfectly beautiful

Baby I know how to use a gun by @saynomorefic

Another AU that lives in my head rent free. Completely amazing, I'd read 200,000 words of just them.

futile devices @jordensgolde

The writing is immaculate, the premise is different and so incredibly Wilmon. The beauty of these words truly inspires me.

one hundred and seventeen @prince-simon

Dare I say this one trans'ed my gender? I read this and suddenly had words for how I felt about myself. I still cry every time I read it. Genderfluid Simon has a special place in my heart, and it's just written so beautifully. Love entirely.

Say a prayer for me in the dark by witchjeons on ao3

This made me want to write poetry again, which I did for one of my fics, and I've continued to do so just for myself. It is utterly beautiful, and I sob each time I read it.

I hate accidents except when we go from friends to this by @cloudywilmon

This is my ultimate feel-good/fully dissociate from reality fic. It is hot, and funny, and ridiculous in all the most perfect ways. When I'm having the shittiest day imaginable, there's these boys having sex and pretending it means absolutely nothing.

Outlines of You by @enjoythesilentworld

Genuinely some of the most beautiful smut I've ever read

Knowing what it feels like by strawberryxcreqm on ao3

This is another fic that just lives in my head, and I can't listen to Mazzy Star without thinking about it.

for the tree's sake by @enjoythesilentworld

This is one of my favorite dynamics. I absolutely adore poetic Wille, it is so soft and sweet and captures them so perfectly

Final reflections:

Thank you to everyone who participates in this fandom in any way. Lurkers, commenters, people making art, gifs, sharing those amazing scene/character analysis'. And of course each and every fic writer, you who have inspired me to find writing again. This is such a beautiful little corner of the internet that I can't wait to spend another year in. Thank you 💜💜💜 feel free to come yell at me or just say hi in my inbox or ask box. I'm shy but I promise I'm always up for talking about Wilmon 🥰

#please let me know if I've messed up any tags or links 💜#I couldn't find a few people here on tumblr so if they do have profiles let me know and I'll tag them ✨️#doing this sort of late but 🥳🥳🥳#young royals #wilmon #yr fic rec #fandom review 2024

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never-stranger · 22 hours ago

Text

New Beginnings

Pairing: Loki x photographer!reader (fem)

Summary: As Loki adjusts along with the Asgardians in their new home on Midgard, they also warm up to guests visiting their little community. One in particular finds the flowers outside his cabin to be a subject for her craft

Tags & Warnings: Second POV, Fluff, Good/Soft Loki, Post-Ragnarok

Forenote: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while! I did receive a request recently on Loki in a masquerade ball, I’ll get to that soon!

Word Count: 3379

────୨ৎ────

The sun shone upon New Asgard. A warmth embraced its people each new day, a sort of warmth that reminded a certain God of Mischief about longer days in the Golden Kingdom. He would never admit it– how much better he had been feeling since their arrival on Midgard. He mourned with the people, about the homes and lives they’d lost, but at the same time, it was like aeons of burdens were lifted from his shoulders. He could drape himself onto a wicker chair and watch time pass as the nation slowly rebuilt themselves on the embers of what they once were.

While of course, he still had his duties, but they reminded him more of when he’d play the role of assistant when his mother would arrange those extravagant events more than the responsibilities of a prince. That isn’t to say those memories weren’t fond.

He didn’t leave the community all that much, and it didn’t take him long to memorise most of everyone’s names. Thor had pointed it out once, teasing him for such a sentimental gesture. The only response he’d received was a pointed glare as Loki smiled to himself only the moment he turned away.

They would receive visitors from time to time. Loki thought it best to steer clear from their way, lest he scare them off. Meanwhile, when Thor would be in charge of the day tour, he would deliberately take a path he knew he’d find his brother in, as a way to assure other people that he had changed. Another thing Loki would not admit was that he appreciated it.

It was a day he declared to himself as his day off. He squinted at the sun’s intrusion as he stepped out of his little cabin, stretching out his limbs when he vaguely heard a camera’s shutter.

His eyes immediately snap to where you stood, fumbling with the device in your hands.

“Sorry, I’ve been trying to get a good angle on your flowers for quite a while without getting too close. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” You pressed buttons on the gadget with a humorous smile you hoped masked your embarrassment as you scrolled to the picture you had just taken. There was evident motion in the photo; it looked quite silly, seeing the man blurry mid-stretch. Well at least it was funny until you realised who it was.

Loki startled at the sound of surprise you made. “You… you’re— mister— prince?”

Despite his grogginess, Loki finds it in himself to grace you with a chuckle. “Just Loki.” His eyes still move slowly as he examines you, his eyelids weighed by slumber. It didn’t take much deduction for him to find out you were most probably a photographer.

“Not much going on here, I’m afraid. You’ll find Thor right next door; he could take you to sights much more worth your time.”

“I think I’m alright.”

He looks at you incredulously, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. You clear your throat.

“I mean most people have probably seen those already. I wanted to capture glimpses into the lives of the people here,” and in a flustered whisper, you add, “you know?”

Maybe it was because he was too tired to shoo you away, to argue or to call his brother down himself, but he resigns with a nod before turning on his heel back towards his door.

“Actually, could you…?” He halts abruptly, hearing the grass and the fallen leaves crunch against your soles as you tread carefully closer to the hedges surrounding his house. When he looks back at you, you demonstrate a pose, bending your knees to be closer to the ground, using one of the radiant yellow wildflowers as a prop.

He sighs, and rolls his eyes. Against his better judgment, the wooden floors creak under the weight of his footsteps as he walks out of the cabin grounds and sidles next to you; he mirrors the action. You smile at him gratefully and he can’t seem to ignore the warmth that envelops him at the sight of it. With wakefulness slowly crawling up his nerves, he realises he hasn’t seen you around before and the way you regard him is quite a new experience. Thor would usually be the one to introduce new visitors to him, but you took the initiative first.

The camera clicks.

He watches you with intrigue, his brows furrowed together as you examine the picture.

“You could do better than that,” you say flatly. He opens his mouth to voice his offence, but you silence him with a raised finger and a simple command:

“Pose.”

This time, he does not let his mind wander. He mirrors the same pose, but with a more natural element to it. After hearing several clicks from the camera, he groans, standing up to his full height.

“Are we done?”

But you’re too distracted by your handiwork. When he sees you smiling at the screen, curiosity pulls him over to your side. He peers over your shoulder and you lift the camera closer to his eyes.

Asgardians and Midgardians were typically warm, but he’d gone too long without a reminder of that; he remembers this when he tries to take a hold of the device to direct it where he can see better, and the action makes his fingertips brush against your skin. You were quite warm.

What he saw in the photograph was not quite how he remembered himself.

It seemed convincingly candid— an ordinary man admiring the flowers with his hair a good mix of neat and unkempt. The sunlight dappled the leaves and the flowers beautifully; it caressed his face, casting an ethereal glow befitting a god.

“You are quite the artist, madam…?”

You’re greeted with a fond smile when you give him your name, offering your hand for a shake. “It’s an honour, truly.”

He finds himself drawn into your warmth with your hand clasped around his. He walks next to you, carefully watching your much awed expression despite the bland, ordinary trees being the reason.

The two of you slipped into an easy conversation. You elaborated on your profession and why you had come to visit, your words quite tugged at his mind and compelled him to be the one to tour you around the place. While Thor knew of the summits, he knew of the slopes, the ins and outs of the village where children hide and play, where trees cast shadows even when the sun was high, where lovers shared their moments. He even showed you the only tree in the village that bore his favourite Midgardian fruit, which to his surprise, was your favourite too.

As you enthusiastically sank your teeth into the fruit you had plucked from the tree, he conjured a small basket in his hands and filled it with the best picks.

He followed you around as you continued taking photographs, the sound of the camera’s shutter slowly registering into his head as something soothing and familiar. Whenever he’d catch you eyeing a person or a group for too long, he would lean down to your level and give you a story or two that he’d known about them. As always, he was a theatrical storyteller; he made even the most mundane of tales sound out of this world.

For lunch, he had taken you to a local restaurant. It earned the two of you a few bewildered glances, especially from the wide-eyed God of Thunder who had been stuffing his face with the restaurant’s complimentary bread when you walked in next to Loki, just a smidgeon too close than Thor remembered his brother would like. He was even more surprised to see that Loki didn’t seem to be bothered, he seemed pleased, even.

When the bill was called, the sweet lady had said it was on the house. The pair of you insisted on paying, but she wouldn’t hear it; she simply waved you off as she scurried back to the counter.

“I’ve never seen that happen before,” mumbled Thor.

“Looks like he takes after his brother more than he’d like to admit,” said the lady, scribbling over a receipt that Thor deduced was yours.

Loki caught the tinge of embarrassment in your face. You flipped through your wallet to leave a tip, he stopped you with a raised hand, telling you he’d make sure they would be properly compensated.

“It seems only right, I mean you’ve gone the extra mile just showing me around the place,” you reason out.

In turn, he chuckles, “I am still very much a prince, remember?”

The sun was long gone from the horizon when you made your way back to the car. You had reassured Loki that you would be alright on your own, but he was persistemt on accompanying you. There was guilt somewhere in your nerves that you were possibly steering him away from his responsibilities, but the moment you voiced this he only asked you where you had parked. When you pointed in its direction, he simply walked ahead of you, making you take wider strides to match his pace.

“It’s a shame we missed the sunset. There are times when I realise I take it for granted,” he says softly.

“Well, all the more reason for me to come back,” you shrug.

There is a giddy feeling in his chest and he tries to bite back a smile. When he fails in doing so, he tilts his head towards the ground.

The lights of your car blink, the doors unlocking with the push of a button. He makes his way to the passenger seat, settling the basket of fruit he had gathered earlier onto the seat. He tells you it’s an offering of thanks from the people of New Asgard.

The engine hums to life, but you stay there for a moment to let it warm up. Loki knocks on your window before lowering himself to meet your gaze as you roll the glass down.

“Any way I’ll know when you plan to return?”

“I thought you liked surprises.” You lean closer to your window, giving him a smug grin.

“That I do,” he chuckles.

It does not take you long to return for a second time, then a third, then you stopped counting by the eighth. There was always somewhere new to visit even in such a small community, perhaps it was because you were lucky to have scored quite the resourceful guide.

Your itinerary would change every time, if you had any at all. Most times you would visit with nothing but the camera, sometimes with a little trinket from home to leave as a token. What remained constant was the basket of fruit Loki would always leave in your car before you parted ways for the time being. A reminder that there was always at least one person waiting there for you.

In the weeks you had not returned, visitors steadily came and went. Slowly, they grew in frequency and number, but you were still nowhere to be found. Thor began to question why Loki seemed to have his eyes incessantly on the crowd, at times even greeting them by the entrance before quickly making his leave when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

One afternoon, Thor used the back entrance to the restaurant you and Loki had eaten in. From the counter, he spotted his brother on the very same table, flipping through his book with several, identical cups sprawled before him, the cup he was sipping on was the same, too. The lady behind the counter noticed Thor’s confusion as she laughed sheepishly.

“He’s been doing that these past few weeks.”

“The drinking or the reading?” Thor crossed his arms, his gaze still tethered to his brother. The lady laughs in response.

“A bit of both; nothing to be concerned about. I think it’s the same drink that girl had ordered for both of them when she first visited.”

Thor hums, the scrutiny in his eyes leaving for the most part. “In that case, I fear if she doesn’t return anytime soon, my brother will end up reverting to his old ways.”

The hanging bells by the front entrance jingle as a family of four steps through the threshold. The daughter is the first to spot Loki, and Thor swallows a lump in his throat when she quickly invades Loki’s personal space. He gives her a look, close to a glare, but the tension in his face leaves when the girl lifts her phone to his face, speaking enthusiastically about something on the screen.

It was the picture you had taken of him all those weeks ago.

The young girl continued scrolling through the other pictures you had posted as she told him how excited she was to visit New Asgard because of the photographs you had captured.

“It’s as beautiful as she described it! I don’t think I’ll be able to leave!”

“Now, now. Careful what you wish for, you’ll leave your parents hanging.” Loki chuckles, patting the girl on the head. He points a finger at her family as they give him a bashful smile.

“I just can’t believe our tour is over. I want to come back soon, and hopefully she’ll be here too!” The girl says wistfully, crossing her arms. “And you must be the good friend she had made during her time here! Prince… Mister? Mister. Mister Loki?”

“Good friend?”

“She said something about how nice the people here were, but she seemed to favour... someone. You were the only one with a solo shot on any of her posts.” As she spoke, she went through the photo reel, making sure Loki could see properly.

“She says she wants to come back as soon as she figured things out.”

“Going through a rough patch then, I suppose?”

She shrugs, “Probably, she doesn’t really talk about her life outside the pictures.”

By the middle range of the reel, he caught a glimpse of his photo. It was truly distinguishable compared to the group photos, view,s and other candids you had taken. Then the last photo was one of the basket he had left on your seat, this time it sat on what looked like a dining table.

“Julia,” called the mother, gesturing to the girl to come over as they readied their takeaway bags. She waves at Loki, skipping towards her family with childlike glee.

He watches as they leave, worrying his lip. He swirls the drink in his hands, basking in its aroma that he had very quickly learned to associate with you. He remembered the questioning look he’d given you when your drink was served. After taking a sip, you had pushed the cup over to him until he relented and gave it a try.

From an ample distance, Thor shifts his weight and makes an accidental sound. It’s only then that Loki realises he is being watched.

He places the cup on the table as he stands in slow movements. And to Thor’s surprise, he smiles at him.

It was early into the evening, and nights had been growing colder. It did not stop the children from chasing each other down the roads, or the pleasant old man from reading through his novel as he sat on the lone bench under the streetlight.

It certainly didn’t stop Loki from thinking about you; in fact, it had made him forget everything else, even for just a while. His mind, usually brimming with ideas, running at several thousand miles by the second, would know a few moments of peace when he would remember you; the warmth he could almost feel through his memories. He digs his hands into his pockets, watching as his breath leaves its trails in the cold air. He remembered the girl’s words; in that moment he wanted nothing more than to find you and offer a helping hand.

The walk home was silent, save for the sound of leaves being crushed in his wake. He nears his cabin as the hedges come into view. He glides his fingertips against its leaves, remembering your fascination for them.

The memories enveloped him into a bittersweet embrace, drowning out his senses, so he doesn’t immediately pick up on the sound of a camera’s shutter.

He spins around, defensively positioning himself towards the source.

“Sorry,” you mumble sheepishly, flinging your camera’s strap over the shoulder and shoving your hands into your coat pockets. “Got caught in traffic, was I disturbing you… again?” As you spoke, Loki walked towards you slowly, as though you’d scatter into the wind if he were too rash.

“No, no, never,” he whispered earnestly.

“Well, it’s been a while,” you beam

He looks down at the hand you offered him, clasping his own firmly around yours. But something in him breaks and he tugs on your arm, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pulls you into an embrace. “It has,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

His arms tighten around you when you return the gesture. “I will. Maybe after finding a place to stay for the night.”

He chuckles heartily. You pull away from his arms, but keep your hands on his sides. “Go get your things, I’ll arrange the spare mattress,” he says before quirking an eyebrow. “Unless you were having other plans?”

You swat at his shoulder playfully before following him to the front door. You’re about to tell him you could probably find yourself a small inn to stay out of his hair, but he anticipated that already, telling you not to worry about it before you could even open your mouth to speak.

When the lights are opened, he is graced with the familiar look of awe on your face. If you had donned that reaction to his chambers back on Asgard, perhaps he would have understood; but his place here was like any other mortal home. It was wood, warm lights dimly illuminating his bookshelves and the few paintings hanging on the walls, a cozy carpet with a couch on each side, a small coffee table in the middle; not without a remarkably tall stack of books on it.

Curiously, you take a hold of the topmost book, idly flipping through its pages when something catches your eye.

“What’s this?” You carefully peel it from the page, it’s rough and evidently worn down by time. It’s also a memorable shade of yellow; though now it seemed to have dulled by time.

“Oh.”

You lift the dried flower towards the light to admire it, at the same time Loki returns with two cups of warm drinks. When he sees what you are holding, he quickly settles the cups onto the coffee table. You could almost see his mind going to work, trying to find an excuse for keeping such a feeble thing; he eventually decides against it.

“It makes a really good bookmark,” he mumbles.

“I can tell.”

You return it to its page and place the book back on its stack, taking your seat on the couch. Loki waits for you to hold your cup before he takes his and you blow some air into the drink.

The first thing you see when you lift your gaze is the look of enthrallment from the only other person in the room. For a second, the cup in his hands seems to be too hot; but he quickly recovers, narrowly avoiding dropping it to the ground.

Perhaps now he understood how you seemed so fascinated by the most mundane things, how the most common occurrences ignite that spark within your eyes. It took weeks of your absence to realise how much of his time alive he had taken for granted. Like his time on Asgard, he never realised how important some things were until they were taken away.

Thankfully you were not one of those things. You always came back as you said you would, but your time apart from him would give him ample time to ponder on this.

Now that you were there before him, in his home, Loki knew he would learn to hold on to what he loved, no matter how fleeting time would be for them.

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Afternote: Writer's block while writing a longform fic = write a oneshot.

I am very much open to your thoughts and comments! :))

#loki fluff #loki x reader #loki x fem!reader #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #ragnarok loki #fluff

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