#and fell in love with a romantized version of him she thought he was. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlinos · 11 months ago

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Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: Minho is even more determined to make you see the good in love after falling for you, while you’re too preoccupied with thinking you’re not good enough for him.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, smut, friends to lovers, pining

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), hand job, fingering, like two seconds of nipple play, slut shaming, swearing

♡ Word count: 13.2k

♡ A/N: I got such a great response on the first part 🥲 thank you to everyone who left feedback. It means a lot more than you realize. I researched what to do on a trip to Japan so extensively just to write this part that I got sad I’ve never traveled there 🫠

← part I ♡ part III →

The night after you and Minho watched the light show, you stayed awake until four in the morning with your roommates as Eunha cried about her ex-boyfriend. You’ve never been the type to hope for someone’s misery, but that guy is deserving of every terrible thing that could happen to him.

After she calmed down, you fell asleep together on the couch. You only managed to check your phone in the morning, finding it thrown on your bed along with your bag. Minho’s string of messages put a smile on your face. You could use the time away from everything, even if it was only for a weekend.

You agreed to his strange invitation without thinking twice. You did, however, insist on paying for your hotel room. Chan was already being far too generous in offering you his place on a trip he had paid for.

Soon enough, two weeks flew by and the Friday of your trip finally arrived.

You’re already waiting outside of your house when Minho’s car arrives. He greets you with a hug, taking your backpack from your hands and placing it on the backseat. He opens the passenger door for you, waits until you’re settled in your seat, and only then closes the door and walks around the car. It’s something he does every time you go out together and it always makes you smile, even though it’s such a minor detail.

“You know, you’re my first friend who can drive,” you comment as he enters the car. “You shot up a lot of spots on my favorite friends’ list just by saving me from taking the bus.”

Minho chuckles. “And here I foolishly thought you liked me for my personality,” he feigns offense, shaking his head. “I actually only know how to drive because of my mom. I was moving to the countryside, and she got really worried I was gonna be stranded there, so she gave me a car when I graduated.”

You raise your brows. “You lived in the countryside?”

“Yep, I moved to Gurye right after graduating high school,” he explains simply, starting the car.

You nod slowly. Truthfully, you wanted to ask more questions but didn’t want to seem intrusive. Minho had never told you a lot about his life before starting university — the only things you know are that he has three cats back home in Gimpo and started college late for some reason. You figure he’s a private person who will hopefully open up to you once he’s ready. You couldn’t blame him either; you also desperately pretended as if your life before university didn’t exist.

As you two sit in the car, moving slowly through the awful Friday night traffic, you feel the familiar thoughts of panic overflow your mind. This trip felt almost romantic; just you and Minho in Japan for an entire weekend. You should be running away from shit like this, should be shutting him out before anything more than friendship blossoms between the two of you.

Your fingers pick on the fabric of your sheer tights, pulling and pinching apprehensively as your mind races. Because, at the end of the day, Minho is still a guy. He’s still capable of breaking your heart in the same ways it was broken before, and maybe even in new ways. He could still cheat on you, fall in love with someone else, treat you like nothing more than an object or a nuisance in his life, wake up one day and simply decide he’s had enough of you.

But he’s also Minho.

Your heart quickly countered every single reason your brain came up with on why you should run away from the situation.

How could Minho, who believes that love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself, cheat on you?

How could Minho, who told you that love makes it so that you can only see the one you love, fall in love with someone else?

How could Minho, who does stupid romance movie shit like opening car doors and pulling out chairs for you, insisting that he should walk on the street side when you’re together, reading classic novels, learning how to cook so his mom doesn’t have to, all while having three fucking cats, possibly break your heart?

Part of you hates how you have to do mental gymnastics to even consider allowing yourself to feel something more for a guy, but a bigger part knows the hurt that inevitably comes with love isn’t worth it.

You hear a soft chuckle beside you, and you lift your gaze to find Minho smiling at you as you stop at a red light.

“Is that a style thing?” He asks, gesturing toward your thighs with a nod. You furrow your brows. The light turns green, and his attention is back on the road, a grin spread across his lips. “Ripping holes in your tights. Is that a style thing?”

You look down toward your legs and grimace as you realize you had mindlessly torn two holes in your tights while overthinking. You mentally curse yourself.

“I’m cold,” you lie with an awkward giggle. “Was trying to warm myself up.”

Minho hums, stepping on the brakes as you encounter another traffic jam. He unbuckles his seat belt, turns his body toward the back seat, and retrieves his jacket before draping it over your thighs. He shoots you a small smile and turns his attention back toward the road.

The side of your brain that was against Minho and anything romantic with him just a few moments ago is completely swallowed up, dissipating as you ultimately admit to yourself that you don’t hate the prospect of this being a romantic trip as long as it’s with him.

God, you really don’t hate it one bit.

You two finally arrive at the airport just in time to board your flight with no issues. You’re not big on flying, but the flight is just a little over two hours, and Minho is such a calming presence next to you. He quietly read you some harlequin romance he picked up at the airport bookstore, and you two laughed a bit too loudly at the over-the-top plot and theatrical writing. The two of you were taken aback as the book turned out to be erotica, but hearing Minho dramatically read to you in a whisper about the hunky love interest and his manhood made you laugh until tears formed in your eyes.

After that, you two somehow end up talking about your lives back home. Minho shares how he always cooks Christmas dinner for his family, and his favorite part of the night is always the praises his grandmother throws his way. He explains that although he started cooking simply to help his mother, he found that he genuinely enjoyed it. He said he missed doing it every day, having stopped because his roommates had begun treating him as nothing more than a personal cook. You listen to his every word with a smile on your face that you can’t hide. It feels like he’s slowly opening up more to you about his life outside of university, and even something as small as this detail about his home life makes you feel closer to him.

The flight is so pleasant that you only realize you’ve landed once you see Minho unbuckling his seat belt.

You two take an Uber to the hotel, arriving in thirty minutes — you insist on paying since you’re basically here for free. You stare out the car window in awe the entire ride, Minho fondly laughing at your amazement.

As you arrive, you struggle with your backpack, pulling it out of the backseat with such force you would have fallen backward had it not been for Minho’s hands holding your shoulders. He asks if you’re okay with a chuckle, and you groan about how heavy your backpack is. Packing light wasn’t your forte.

As you two walk toward the hotel entrance, the weight on your shoulders disappears suddenly. You furrow your brows and look behind you. Minho had nonchalantly picked your backpack up by the handle and lifted it off your shoulders, carrying all the weight in his arms. You bite back a smile, murmuring a thank you. He just nods, like he hasn’t just done yet another thing you thought only happened in books written by women.

You feel that damn pinwheel return to your chest, making you feel a kind of thrill that you haven’t felt in a while. A good kind.

The hotel is relatively small, clearly on the cheap side, although it’s still quite charming. Minho mutters an apology as he catches you looking around the place.

“It was the only place I could afford being a broke college student,” He explains with a sheepish chuckle, and you shake your head.

“It’s lovely. I’m so happy to be here, I think I wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Minho is the one who checks you in, speaking in near-perfect Japanese to the front desk clerk. You focus on the wood chipping on the table and bite the inside of your cheek as you inwardly berate yourself for finding it so damn attractive. It was different from your classes or your small study sessions. You had never truly grasped just how good Minho was until right now. You didn’t understand a word he said. All you know is that he sounded too sexy for his own good while saying it.

Minho hands you the key and tells you the room number, and you finally make your way up the stairs. He walks beside you the whole way, and you wonder if his room is on the same floor as yours or if he’s just doing this so he can hold your backpack off your shoulders.

As you reach your room on the third floor, he stops you before you can insert the key into the door.

“Before you go inside…” He trails off, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I — we could only afford to pay for one room, so this is actually our room.”

Your eyes widen for a second before you nod slowly. “Oh. It’s… okay,” you assure him, although there’s very little confidence in your voice. The prospect of sharing a bed with Minho makes you nervous, but not for the reasons you thought it would.

“There are two beds! Of course,” He assures you, and you mentally slap yourself on the forehead for feeling disappointed at this information.

It’s because you’ve exclusively been having sex with Hyunjin for so long, you reason with yourself. Your hormones must be making you stupid, making you want something more with someone else who isn’t him.

Yeah, that’s it.

Minho’s your friend, after all. It wouldn’t make sense for you to want anything more with him.

It’s just your stupid hormones.

You turn the key and open the door, stepping inside the tiny room with Minho. The two beds were so close together due to the room size that they might as well be just one. The only other piece of furniture is a bedside table, which basically connects the two beds.

It’s only once you slide your backpack straps off your shoulders that Minho lets go of the handle, and you toss it on the plain white sheets of the bed to your right by the bathroom door.

Feeling a chill run through your body, you let out a groan. The heater in your room is clearly not the best.

“Tights and a skirt weren’t the right choice for this weather. This shitty heater also isn’t helping,” you grumble.

Minho chuckles behind you, and you hear the sound of the bed springs as he all but throws himself onto the bed. “Poking holes in your tights probably didn’t help either,” he jokes, and you force out a chuckle.

It seems you chose today to act like a complete idiot.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom to change into your warm sleep clothes. The first thing you notice as you walk out into the room again is Minho’s bright orange sweater with a cat knitted on the front. He’s lying down, his back resting on the wall since the beds don’t have a headboard, and the color of his sweater might be a bit offensive to the eyes, but it’s quickly forgiven once you take in the kitten adorning the fabric.

You giggle, and he looks up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours.

“Your sweater is really cute,” you tell him as you sit down in your bed, crossing your legs in an attempt to warm yourself a bit more.

Minho grins. “I know,” He says smugly, “It reminds me of two of my cats because of the color.”

“You know,” you hummed, “You never showed me any pictures of your cats.”

You watch as his eyes light up at your words. He locks his phone before quickly turning it to face you, showing you his wallpaper. Your lips stretch into a fond smile as you analyze the picture: Minho holding an orange and white cat close to his face with a grin, a butterfly filter cutely adorning his nose.

“This is Soonie, he’s the first cat I got,” He explains, turning his head so he could look at the screen as well, “I was thirteen when I adopted him, and I remember begging my parents for almost three months until they agreed. In the end, they loved him so much they allowed me to adopt another one.”

Minho unlocks his phone and opens his gallery, flipping through his pictures like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You purse your lips. It feels like you’re intruding, even though he’s the one who hasn’t moved the screen an inch. You couldn’t think of one person you’d trust enough to so freely view every single picture you had on your phone like this. Minho really was something else.

Most of his gallery is composed of blurry food pictures mixed with pages and covers of books and computer screens filled with codes. Until he reaches a point — before he started university, you assume — where the only thing you can see is pictures of cats.

He stops scrolling and clicks a picture of the same orange cat, this time wearing glasses and a hat. You snort because, of course he dresses his cats in clothes.

“Soonie is adorable,” you beam. Minho furrows his brows and shakes his head, looking at you like he’s offended.

“This is Doongie,” he states like it’s obvious, “The second cat I adopted.”

Your brows furrow as well. “Minho, that’s the same cat.”

He clicks his tongue, closing the picture and scrolling before opening another one; two orange and white cats lay together on a cat tree. Your lips fall open.

“See? This one is Soonie, he has a white nose. And this one is Doongie, his nose is orange,” He explains, and you nod, knowing full well you’d be dead if your life depended on distinguishing these two cats. “Doongie is the middle child, so he’s more temperamental.”

You stifle a giggle at him talking about his cats like they’re his children, much like you do.

He closes the picture once again and scrolls down further. His fingers hover over a picture for a couple of seconds, like he’s hesitating before he ultimately opens it. The screen fills with the image of a younger Minho smiling while holding a gray cat. His wire-frame glasses were round, unlike his current ones, and his black hair used to be shorter. The picture has clearly been cropped, only half of the cat’s body still visible.

“This is Dori. He’s the last cat I got, and he’s actually the only one I call my son.” He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I adopted him with my ex-girlfriend. She wanted a dog, but I fell in love with Dori as soon as I laid eyes on him on the website, so she had no choice but to accept him.”

You watch as he smiles at the picture and the memory. You absentmindedly fiddle with your fingers on your lap, an all too familiar ugly feeling bubbling inside you. Jealousy. Not because Minho mentioned a girlfriend — you wish it was as simple as that. Jealousy consumed you when you were forced to face the reality that people have healthy relationships, where one partner sacrifices their own desires just to please their loved one. Where you make plans to adopt a kitten together just so you can call it your son. You know damn well you were never even close to having something even remotely similar to that.

You shake the feeling off, forcing out a smile. “He’s really cute,” you tell Minho, “And he’s my favorite, ‘cause at least I can tell him apart from the other two.”

Minho chuckles, scrunching his nose as he locks his phone and rests it on his thigh.

You two settle into bed after Minho walked you through the day he and Chan had planned for tomorrow. He had organized everything neatly in a travel planning app — from where you would be going down to an estimate of how much you would be spending. You always preferred roughly planning things out mentally whenever you traveled, mostly enjoying going with the flow.

Among all your coincidentally similar little incidents, you finally found something in which you two are complete opposites.

That should, in theory, annoy you, but you can’t help but find his meticulousness endearing. You can just picture him searching tirelessly online, crunching numbers and jotting everything down. The image is too adorable for you to be mad.

“Guess we finally found somewhere we’re different,” you mention with a smile as you tuck yourself into your sheets. Minho remains sitting on his bed, putting his glasses on their case.

He hums. “Rather than different, maybe we just complement each other in this case? You hate organizing, and I fucking love to do it, as you just saw,” he chuckles, “We’d be a great team. I plan everything, and all you have to do is show up.”

You nod with a smile, going over the places he chose in your head. You were excited for all but one: the very first one on the list, Inokashira Park.

“You know,” you start with a sigh, Minho’s eyes finding yours in the dimly lit room. “I never talk about this, but I weirdly feel like I can tell you anything. Nobody from our friend group knows this but…” you trail off, gripping the scratchy fabric of the comforter. “One of my ex-boyfriends cheated on me during a family trip to Japan when I was seventeen. I found out ‘cause the girl he hooked up with tagged him in pictures on Instagram. They were together in Inokashira Park.”

Minho hums, his eyes studying your face. After a beat of silence, he shrugs.

“We can skip that if you want to. I just—” He purses his lips, shifting on the mattress. “I just don’t think you should deprive yourself of the experience just because of a bad memory. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

You nod, taking in his words. He was right. You were positive none of your exes ever deprived themselves of going back to places where they cheated on you, so why should you? They were the ones in the wrong, the ones who hurt and betrayed you, so why should you be the one to bear the trauma?

Minho rests his back against the wall, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “Is that why you don’t believe in love anymore? Don’t feel like you have to answer! I just… I wondered…” He faltered, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I wondered what could have happened to make you feel that way.”

“Well, that was just one of five times when love proved to kind of hate my guts,” you chuckle. You didn’t understand why, but the words you held back for so long were bubbling at your throat, ready to spill out. And you were willing to let them. Even if only to a certain extent, you were ready to talk about this pathetic side of your life. You would rationalize it all later. Right now, you simply wanted to talk.

“I’ve had five boyfriends in my life, and they were all terrible in some way. I know, it’s a lot of relationships considering my age.” You scrunch up your face, cringing when you voice out the number.

Minho chuckles, and you’re ready for him to agree.

“It’s really not. There’s no right or wrong number of people to date during your teenage years or your twenties.” You open your eyes to find him leaning on his side, looking at you dismissively. “Some people date more, some date less, some people don’t even date at all. Either way, it’s fine.”

Your lips open and close, then open again. You had always expected people’s reactions to be the same as the ones you heard during high school. From your classmates to your ex-boyfriends, even your friends at the time, they all seemed to be in unanimous agreement that you were at fault for having dated so much in such a brief period. You never thought that maybe people with different opinions existed. And that, maybe, those people would be the ones who you care the most about.

Thinking about it now, after hearing Minho’s words, you were certain neither Eunha nor Soojung — or any of your friends, for that matter — would ever think badly about you or shame you simply because you’ve had five boyfriends. It seemed silly even to think that way now.

It was sad how much your teenage traumas undeniably affected your perception of reality.

Minho is the one to break the silence, his soft voice pulling you away from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I promise you, the memories we make on this trip will be good enough that they override this lousy one,” he vows with a small nod. “And, more than ever before, I truly hope I can change your view of love.”

You smile at his words. “I surprisingly feel my thoughts about many things changing. Love is one of them.”

“I’m glad,” he hums, finally slipping under his covers. “Y’know, love isn’t only romantic. You say you’re closed off to love, that’s really a lie,” he states matter-of-factly, a smug grin spreading across his lips. You bite back a smile and raise your eyebrows at him. He continues, “The love you feel for your family and your friends, platonic love, that’s also love. I’ve been around you long enough to know just how much you love your friends.”

To say you loved your friends almost didn’t seem sufficient. After graduating high school, you left behind all the judgmental and toxic friends you had. You are immensely grateful to have found such good people at university. Eunha and Soojung were the housemates of your dreams, the three of you so different that it truthfully shouldn’t work, but it simply did. Hyunjin becoming your best friend was also a surprise; he was younger than you, and you had never been friends with a guy before — in part thanks to your jealous boyfriends — but he carved out a space for himself in your life and refused to leave. And you were so thankful for that.

And then there was Minho, who had come out of the blue into your life and just as suddenly became such an important person to you. From the way you two first met to your little similarities and how well you got along in such a short time, it was as if fate pulled you toward him.

You smile.

“I do love them,” you tell him, fiddling with your fingers under the white comforter. “And I love you, too, Minho. You’re my friend, after all. In a way, you’re already succeeding in changing my view of love just by being you.”

Minho’s eyes blink rapidly as he looks at you, his parted lips making him look like a confused child before they close. He hums, nodding as a small smile spreads on his lips, which quickly grows bigger and bigger until he’s basically giggling. He hides his face behind his hand, clearing his throat. You feel warmth spread across your chest at the sight. You’re sure if the lights were brighter, you’d be able to see his ears turning red.

You shake your head with a chuckle. The mood has suddenly become a bit too emotional, and you still find yourself running away from these things. However, you were proud of your progress tonight. Talking about love and your past — especially regarding your ex-boyfriends — was already a huge step for you.

You hope Minho knows he’s part of the reason you’re able to take this step in the first place.

“Okay, your turn.” You sit up on the bed, the white comforter pooling on your lap. “I’m curious too, y’know. You’re such a love enthusiast,” you tease him with a grin, earning you a chuckle from Minho, who throws his head back. “Tell me about your romantic experiences.”

He mirrors you and sits up on his bed. “Experience. I’ve only had one girlfriend,” he corrects you, “We met on the first day of high school and began dating the year after that, when we were sixteen. We were together until I was just about to turn twenty-one, so…” he trails off with a deep sigh. “Yeah, it was quite the long first relationship.”

“My five relationships combined didn’t last as long as that.” You click your tongue, and Minho lets out a breathy laugh. “Why did you two break up after being together for so long?” You blurt out before you can process the words inside your head. Annoyed with your own self, you scrunch up your face. You really chose today to be an idiot. “If that’s okay for me to ask! Sorry for being nosy, I’m just— I guess I’m curious.”

Minho smiles at you, a fond smile he always shoots your way whenever you are word-vomiting. Much like your other friends, he had quickly adapted to your habit of spilling out words before thinking about them.

“It’s a bit of a long story. Basically, she wanted a quiet and simple life in the countryside, so I did that for her,” he explains, shrugging dismissively. So that was the reason he had moved to Gurye after finishing school. “I began saving up money at eighteen with my job at the convenience store while she gave piano lessons to the kids in our neighborhood, and we moved on her twentieth birthday. I figured I could just do programming jobs from home, anyway, so I completely gave up on my plans to attend university…” Minho trails off, his voice all but a whisper at the end of the sentence. He shakes his head, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips as he continues, “I kind of wanna kick myself in the face for that now. It fucking sucks to have started university so late, but it was my own decision. I guess you say stupid shit when you’re nervous, and I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

You had never met someone who would abandon so much of themselves for the person they loved. It made Minho even more admirable to you. However, even though it was his own decision, he clearly came to regret it. People often say love is all about compromises, and you couldn’t help but feel like Minho had been the only one to give up anything in this scenario.

“Were your parents okay with you two making such a drastic move?” You question, your curiosity bubbling inside your chest.

Minho scoffs. “Of course they weren’t. Especially my dad. But we were nearing our twenties, so there wasn’t much they could do to stop us.”

He drums his fingers on his thighs, and you wonder if this subject brought back sour memories — or maybe even good ones he just didn’t like remembering because they had become part of the past. You want to tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t want to talk about it any longer, but he’s continuing his story before you can speak.

“We adopted Dori and left a week later. We were pretty much broke. All we could afford was a small cottage that hadn’t been renovated in over a decade, but we were happy,” Minho’s voice is soft as he speaks, a smile forming on his lips as he stares ahead, almost as if he’s reliving those moments in his head. “We talked about growing old together and raising our kids in that cottage. And we — god, looking back, this was so stupid it’s fucking funny,” He chuckled, shaking his head and raising his gaze to meet yours. “We were actually trying to get pregnant. We barely had money to feed Dori and ourselves, yet it still crushed us every time that test read negative.”

You feel your expression change, a blend of astonishment and admiration washing over you. They must’ve truly been in love. You felt a slight pang of hurt and envy run through your body; it truly was so easy for other people when it came to love.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” you lament, although you’re not sure if you’re talking about the pregnancy or the entire relationship.

Minho shakes his head, scrunching his nose. “Don’t feel bad, it was a blessing in disguise. I can’t imagine how the fuck we would ever manage to raise a baby at that time.”

“It seems like you two had the perfect relationship.” You force out a smile, waging war against your bitter jealousy.

“It was perfect, until it wasn’t,” Minho shrugs dismissively, “We began to fight a lot after a while. Haneul would always get upset at me for not doing things the way she thought I should do them, down to replying in a way that didn’t fit with what she had hoped I would say. And I was the same, always getting frustrated when she disagreed with me, even if it was about something silly like what to have for dinner. We used to be able to talk it out and come to an agreement in the past — it wasn’t for nothing that we were together for so long — but being in that little cottage, just us two all the time, it became suffocating.”

“Is that why you two broke up?”

Minho nods. “We realized we were merely playing house. Neither of us was happy anymore,” he explains, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “It was like we each had a script inside our heads of what the other should say or how they should act. It wasn’t healthy anymore, so we mutually decided to end things before they got worse.”

Your fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the white cover. You had always been envious of this type of relationship, but you never thought to think about the fact that they can also come to an end. It always seemed to you that your relationships never worked because they weren’t perfect, like the relationships you saw in books or movies — like the one Minho had described with his ex-girlfriend.

You never once rationalized that even perfect things can ebb away. That nothing lasts forever, even if it seems utterly ideal.

“I know how terrible breakups are,” you tell him. “I can only imagine how much worse it must’ve been to you two after so many years together.”

Minho shakes his head with a smile. “I never really felt hurt by it. It was such a perfect breakup she even let me keep Dori without going through a custody battle,” he jokes, raising his eyebrows at you.

“How can it not have hurt you?” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You were in love, planning to start a family, and you tell me it didn’t hurt when it ended? That’s bullshit, Minho.”

He looks up at the ceiling, like he’s trying to find the words to explain to you. He hums. “Well, I loved Haneul. I loved her so very much, with every fiber of my being. She was my first love. My mom once said we were probably a couple in another life as well, and I fucking loved that,” He chuckles, “The idea that someone was destined for me and I was destined for them, that we were fated to find each other and be together across lifetimes.”

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

He nods. “Soulmates, yes. That’s what we were. And, after we broke up, I realized maybe people’s understanding of soulmates is wrong. At least to me,” He shrugs.

You let out a chuckle. He really turned a terrible situation into a chance to reevaluate his beliefs. It was the most Minho thing you had ever heard.

“How are people understanding it wrong, then?” You question him, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and looking at him. Minho mirrors your actions, a grin etched onto his lips.

“Well, for starters, you can have many soulmates in one lifetime.” You furrow your brows, opening your mouth to ask him more questions, but he quickly adds, “For example, Haneul was my soulmate and there’s no doubt about it in my mind. But it ended, because it was time for it to end. I learned everything I had to learn with her, and she did the same. We couldn’t grow together anymore, so there was no point in staying together.”

Biting your lip, you nod. “I never thought of it that way. You ask anyone and they’ll tell you that a soulmate is unique.”

“It may be so to some people, but I find that way of thinking a bit unfair,” he shrugs. “Haneul found someone new. Wouldn’t it be unfair for me to say her new relationship is inferior to ours simply because we were soulmates? We were soulmates, but our time to be together has passed and she’s with the soulmate she’s supposed to be right now.”

You hum, tapping your fingers against your cheek. “I guess it does make sense.”

He shrugs, feigning smugness. “I am quite the smart man.”

“What about you?” You question, smiling at him, “Have you ever found a new soulmate after that relationship?”

Minho clears his throat, his gaze shifting to look at where his sock-clad feet poked out from underneath the comforter. You could swear you see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I think I did,” He answers with a questioning lilt. “There were some signs, and a lot of things that aligned.” His gaze lifts once more to meet your eyes as he continues, “Makes me think maybe I’ve found her.”

As you take in his words, jealousy rears its ugly head, the feeling almost swallowing you whole. You gnaw on your bottom lip. The way Minho made you feel at times was questionable at best, but you chalk it all up to your jealous nature. You’d always gotten jealous when your friends found new friendships or when they started relationships.

However, that feeling was a bit different from the one currently making you want to bite your lip until it bled out of sheer and petty jealousy.

You let out a heavy sigh, pushing all those thoughts into a neat little box inside your head and locking them up.

“You’re really lucky,” you tell him, and Minho cocks an eyebrow. “That’s why you think love can only be good, because your only experience with it was long-lasting and good until the very end. I’d much rather have love fizzle out than have it end in a way that ended me as well. That’s how it’s always been with me, and I guess that’s why I came to hate love a little bit.”

Minho smiles at you, a genuine smile that reaches his brown eyes. “Well, sometimes love lasts forever,” he asserts, “So you shouldn’t think about how it’s going to end.”

You can feel the pinwheel inside your chest spinning, causing your heart to skip a beat and your cheeks to blush pink. Forcing out a chuckle, you lie on your bed and pull the covers up to your nose.

“You’re back to your hopeless romantic ways.”

“I never stopped,” He corrects you. He lies down as well, facing you, his hand reaching out to turn off the lamp that sat on the bedside table. “Even when I thought you had a boyfriend,” Minho continues, “I was still able to be a hopeless romantic.”

You feel your eyes widen at his words, thanking the darkness that covers you both as confusion and shock swim in your eyes. Did Minho subtly admit he liked you? Were you reading too much into things? Why did this not scare you? It should scare you, should make you terrified, as this is the very thing you’ve been running away from.

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

But why did you hope that wasn’t the case?

The two of you wake up early, hitting the streets of Tokyo immediately after getting dressed. Minho’s list definitely made things easier, with you two hopping from place to place before crossing them out one by one on his phone. Your favorite so far had been the cat café you two went to for breakfast, where you spent the entire hour watching Minho petting and playing with the kittens, the smile on your lips so fond that it probably made you look stupid.

But as you walk around Inokashira Park, that quickly drops to second place on your mental list. It was a beautiful place, especially in the late afternoon sun. As soon as you arrived, Minho took your hand in his without a word. It was unexpected, to say the least, but you were even more surprised to find yourself liking the gesture. You squeezed his hand, smiling at him, before lacing your fingers together.

Your heart was racing so fast you were certain that damn pinwheel brought along a friend today.

After walking around for a bit, Minho abruptly stopped, letting go of your hand and moving to stand behind you. You furrowed your brows as his hands came to cover your eyes. With his lips incredibly close to your ears, he whispered, “I have a surprise. It’s a place that wasn’t on the list. A museum I think you’ll like.”

You felt goosebumps rise all over your body at the sound of his low voice coupled with his breath tickling your skin. You silently thanked the cold weather — had you not been wearing long sleeves, Minho would have seen the effect he had on you, and you would’ve had no other choice but to throw yourself in front of a taxi on the way back to the hotel.

The two of you waddled awkwardly, Minho still standing behind you with his hands over your eyes. He giggled the whole way to your destination. You were too immersed in not focusing on how his body brushed up against yours with every step you took to even think about laughing.

His broad chest so warm against your back, his arms wrapped around you, his lips grazing your neck once as he bent down to whisper something about the museum being just around the corner, and his lower body continuously brushing and rubbing against your ass as you two walked. You had to fight the urge to push your body against his every time that happened, wondering if that would be enough to get him hard.

After Minho’s supposed confession last night, your mind had truly thrown every bit of worry and shame you felt about being attracted to him out the window.

It felt almost liberating, being able to say fuck it and simply feel.

So you were attracted to Minho; why should it be a big deal? You shouldn't deprive yourself of these silly experiences just because love scares you.

Maybe being scared was okay sometimes. Maybe it was worth it for the right people.

Just as your mind was running wild with thoughts of Minho’s body pressed up against yours, his voice whispered in your ear again. You had arrived, he announced, removing his hands from your eyes.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you made out the words on a wooden sign before you. Minho had taken you to the Ghibli Museum. Before you could stop yourself, you were throwing your arms around his neck with a gasp.

You could just kiss him at that moment. That was how happy you were.

After walking around the museum with a smile engraved onto your lips, your cheeks hurt in the best way possible. Minho hurried you as you looked through the overly expensive gift shop, reminding you that the swan paddle boats would be closing soon. You whined but ultimately had no choice but to leave the shop as he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the exit. Mourning the loss of a Soot Sprite plush perfect for your collection, you grumbled to Minho about how he had no heart as you two ran across the park.

You made it just in time, being the last ones in line on the pier. Minho insisted on paying for your tickets, and you agreed only after he explained it would be your compensation for the loss of your precious plushie.

And now you sit beside him on a swan paddle boat, failing miserably at containing your giggles as Minho adjusts his life jacket.

“You know,” He starts with a dramatic sigh, “You’re not gonna be laughing if we crash and you drown.”

You poke his arm, making him look at you just as a smile spreads across his lips. “I’m only laughing ‘cause you look real cute.”

You begin to paddle, and it is surprisingly easy — especially because Minho is the one guiding the boat with a steering wheel. The scenery is quite dull because of the cold season, with most trees already bare of leaves and the sky a blend of pale blue and white.

“I wish it was spring,” Minho speaks beside you as if he’s read your thoughts. “The cherry blossoms are fucking gorgeous.”

You look over at him, his eyes fixed ahead as he steers the boat around the pond. His glasses reflect the pale sky and obscure his eyes, but you’re sure he’s blinking rapidly like he usually does whenever he’s focused.

“Did you come here with your ex-girlfriend in spring?” You blurt out.

Minho’s lips stretch into a grin as he turns to face you.

“No,” he answers simply. “But I want to come with you.”

It’s only then you realize he had been doing most of the work paddling, as he easily controls the speed at which the boat glides across the water, slowing down until you two are stopped at the edge of the pond.

Your mind races, but not as hard as your heart does.

“With me?”

“With you.”

His eyes are fixed on yours, and his left hand grips the steering wheel tightly. You part your lips, but only silence is stuck in your throat. Drawing yourself out of the impromptu staring contest the two of you had gotten into, your eyes shift down to stare at your purse which lay across your lap.

You softly utter the only two words your mind can conjure up. “Why me?”

“Because I like you,” Minho’s voice is also quiet. You hear him shuffling beside you, turning his body so he fully faces you. “I know you’re scared, and you feel like you’re protecting yourself, but I’m—” He cuts himself off abruptly, and your eyes shoot up to find him biting his lip, his brows furrowed. He lets out a sigh. “I like you so much I think I might implode if I do nothing about it.”

Your breath hitched audibly. There is still a part of you that’s screaming out run away, this is terrifying, you’re on your way to another heart-wrenching breakup — but that part has become so minuscule, so insignificant now, it feels like nothing but muffled background noise inside your head. Because a much bigger part of you is begging for you to just say, “Then do something about it.”

And he does.

Minho’s hand leaves the wheel and gingerly touches your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin before he closes the distance between you. It isn’t the first time you kiss Minho, but it is certainly the first time your entire being is fully enveloped in only him; from the way his slightly chapped lips still felt so soft against your own to how his strong hand finds your waist and pulls you closer to him.

And his taste. Minho coaxes your mouth open with his tongue and licks into it, your senses being taken over by the taste of the watermelon candy he’d been eating all day until you’re positively drunk on him. Your heart racing and your hands shaking like a teenager having their first kiss.

You go to grab his shirt, desperate to pull him even closer to you, but your hands collide with the damn life jacket he’s wearing. You whine into the kiss, annoyed, and Minho only chuckles against your lips. He bites your lower lip, pulling softly before releasing it and pressing another kiss to your pout.

“I take back what I said, the life jacket isn’t cute,” you mumble against his lips. His smile grows, and his lips crash against yours again, his hands tangling in your hair.

He groans into the kiss, barely pulling away before whispering, “Don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

You hum. “Well, you can kiss me anytime now.”

Minho’s lips spread into a grin, and he closes the small distance between you for one last kiss before he pulls away, your noses brushing. His eyes are dark yet soft, as if longing and affection had melted together.

“I want to be with you,” He says, “But I want you to think about it before you say anything because I know how scared you are of love. And if by the end of our trip I haven’t given you enough reasons to give me a chance, I’ll let you go and move on with my life. If you want to stay friends, I’ll happily do that. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll also respect that.”

Your heart swells with his words because Minho is the complete antithesis of everything your ex-boyfriends taught you that men were.

And, for the first time in so long, you feel the kind of nervousness that’s nothing but good. The kind that leaves you with trembling hands, a racing heart, and a dizzy head. The kind that only love can provide.

Despite his request, you’re eager to answer him right then and there, but just as you’re about to speak, the sky roars and dark clouds gather above. You jump in your seat at the sound, and Minho’s hands instinctively wrap around your shoulders and squeeze. You smile, simply nodding your head and giving his lips a small kiss.

Minho struggles a bit, but he’s eventually able to turn the paddle boat around, and you two begin to paddle back toward the pier. The light rain quickly becomes heavy raindrops drumming on the roof of the boat, and you dread the walk back to the hotel as neither of you thought to bring an umbrella.

“Y'know,” Minho starts. “There’s a myth here in Japan that says if you ride this boat with a girlfriend, then you’ll break up soon. I kinda always believed that.”

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

He hums, nodding his head. “So I’m choosing to also believe that if you ride it with someone you like, they will become your girlfriend soon.”

Minho turns to look at you with a smile as you stop at the pier, removing his life jacket and exiting the boat without another word. You bite the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt at holding back a smile. Minho helps you out of the boat, his hand taking yours and pulling you toward him gently.

You two run back to the hotel, Minho holding you close to him with his hand around your waist. The streets are mostly empty as people squeeze under bus stops and shop awnings to shelter from the rain, and it almost feels like you and Minho are the only people in Tokyo that night.

You two giggle the whole way to the hotel. Even when you are struck with the realization that the power has shut off on the entire street upon arriving, you simply turn to each other and laugh even more.

You clumsily manage to take a brief shower in the darkness, changing into your sleep clothes as quickly as you can. You realize with a grimace that if your room was cold before, with the shitty hotel heater on, it’s basically turned into an icebox now.

Wrapping yourself up in your comforter, you shiver with a groan just as Minho walks out of the bathroom.

“Bet you miss that shitty heater now, huh?” He jokes, and you faintly make out his silhouette in the dim light of the moon coming from the window.

You let out another groan. “I'm gonna freeze to death tonight. I've made peace with that. Thaw me with a hairdryer in the morning, please.”

Minho chuckles, sitting on his bed as he checks his phone. You make out his features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he’s wearing another sweater, black with more cats printed on it.

Such a cozy, warm-looking sweater. You curse yourself inwardly for only packing t-shirts to sleep.

As he locks his phone, an idea hits you, and your words are faster than your thoughts — as they always seem to be whenever you’re around Minho.

“Can I lay with you for a bit?” You ask, “Just for a bit, until I get warm? My bed is right under this damn window, and I don’t have any sweaters I can sleep in, and I know I joked about making peace with freezing but—”

Minho cuts you off by calling out your name with a chuckle. “It's okay. You don’t need to make up a thousand excuses. I'm cold, too,” He says simply, scooting to the side to make room for you in his bed. “Come here.”

You smile, ripping the covers from your body quickly like a band-aid and all but jumping from your mattress to his. Minho instructs you to lie on the left side of the bed, facing the wall. You furrow your brows.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s like the sidewalk thing. So I can protect you if a serial killer comes into our room.”

“Oh, so a serial killer’s gonna come into our room?” You ask, a teasing lilt in your voice as you scoot on the bed and slip under the comforter.

“Well, I—” Minho stammers, pausing with a sigh. He removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table before he continues, “I don’t know, okay? I just… wanna take care of you in every way possible. Even in this weird scenario that my mind made up.”

His words slip out of his lips quickly, much like yours do when you’re nervous and can’t make yourself stop talking. You wonder if your habit is rubbing off on him, and you can’t help but smile.

As Minho settles into bed, you feel your body stiffen up. The two of you lay on your backs next to each other in the cramped bed, and you feel like you can’t move. Hyunjin was the first guy you ever slept next to, and even then, it was after you two had already had sex, so there was no room for feeling awkward. With Minho, everything feels so new. If kissing him had made your hands shake, laying next to him makes your whole body tremble.

You lay like that for a while, watching as the thunder lights up the ceiling until Minho turns to lie on his side.

“Wouldn’t we get warmer if we cuddled?” He trails off in a whisper, clearing his throat after his words leave his mouth.

You open your mouth to answer but know you’ll only end up word-vomiting again with how nervous you feel, so you simply nod, turning so you’re facing Minho as well.

His arms quickly find your waist, pulling you closer to him until your noses are touching, and you feel his breath on your lips as he lets out a sigh. Before you can make sense of what’s happening, Minho presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips, making your mind go hazy. You two stare at each other for a beat, your lips agape and eyes wandering through each other’s features until he breaks the silence.

“You make me nervous,” he whispers, taking your hand and guiding it towards his chest. You feel his heart beating quickly through the thick fabric of his sweater. “In the best way possible.”

You smile, whispering back, “You make me nervous, too.”

Clutching at the fabric of his sweater, you pull him closer to you, slotting your lips together once more. Minho’s hands hesitate, his left hand barely touching your back before he changes his mind and grazes your shoulder with his touch, only to settle for cupping your cheek. You smile into the kiss, taking his hand and placing it firmly on your waist. He grips the fabric of your shirt just as you did and brings your body flush against his.

The kiss is hurried, as if you two will be forced apart tomorrow and this is your only chance to feel each other. Minho licks the seam of your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you gasp. His firm grip on your waist, his body pressed against yours so tightly that you can feel his heartbeat thumping against your chest, and how with every stroke of his tongue, he devours you almost greedily — it’s downright impossible to keep the whine that forms in your throat from slipping out, Minho’s mouth swallowing the muffled sound.

And then he’s pulling away, and you’re left chasing his lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle at that.

“Let’s go to sleep, hm?” He suggests, his voice breathless. You can’t help but wonder if you practically moaning while simply kissing him had made him uncomfortable, and you inwardly berate yourself, mortification washing over you.

So you only nod, turning to face the wall so you can properly cuddle this time. Minho wraps an arm around your waist, and you wait for him to pull you closer, but he never does. You furrow your brows. Was it that bad? You can’t be faulted for reacting like you did, especially with how he kissed you. So you take it into your own hands to shift closer to his body. Your lips part as you feel his hard member pressing against your lower back.

Oh.

So that’s what’s going on.

You bite back a grin, feeling Minho tense up behind you.

“And here I thought you were like a romantic lead in a PG-13 anime,” you joke, smiling as he chuckles, clearly more at ease.

He uses the hand that had been resting against your stomach to pull you even closer to him, pressing his body against yours. “I am romantic,” He whispers, lips close to your ear. You only then realize he’s hovering over you. “But I’m still human.”

You fight back the urge to shudder at how his voice drops an octave, all low and soft, and, god, how his breath grazes your neck.

You search your brain for something to say but come up empty. Being nervous has rendered you speechless for the first time in your life.

“Let’s sleep now, okay?” Minho presses a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll lie far—”

“I can help you,” you blurt out, turning to face him. Going to sleep is the last thing you want right now. “If you want.”

His eyes wander across your face as he pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“There are ways to do this that aren’t… rushing.”

Minho hums, but his eyes are now fixed on your lips. You move to lie on your back, and he slowly climbs on top of you.

“As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t care what we do,” he whispers. You smile, pushing his black hair away from his face with your fingers.

“It’s more than okay with me,” You answer simply, using your hand on his hair to guide him down into yet another kiss.

You can feel him still hesitating, so you grab a fistful of that silly sweater of his and pull him closer to you until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, breaking the kiss. Minho nods hastily.

“Yes, please,” he groans, “I’m gonna die if you don’t.”

With a breathy chuckle, you move your hand between your two bodies, cupping him through his sweatpants; he’s even harder now, and you subconsciously bite your lip. He closes his eyes, his left hand resting on your waist before squeezing lightly as he hides his face in the crook of your neck with a shaky sigh. It might simply be because it’s your first time being intimate together, but Minho’s timidness is genuinely endearing to you.

Your palm grinds against him gingerly, and his body trembles under your touch. His hand travels from your waist toward your lower stomach, and you let out a quiet gasp as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. He lifts his head off your neck, his face so close to yours you can feel his unsteady breathing on your lips.

“Can I touch you, too?” He whispers, and you nod a bit too eagerly.

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

Minho grins, his head dipping lower until his lips are pressed against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. You’d be lying if you said finding Minho so hard after only kissing you hadn’t turned you on — kissing him alone also made you more aroused than you were willing to admit. But you were more than ready to go to sleep without doing anything about it after offering to help him, so the fact that he wants to do the same for you makes your head spin. This was not on your bingo card of things that could happen during this trip.

He pulls your shirt up slightly, only enough for him to slip his hand inside your sweatpants. He hesitates twice before cupping you through your underwear. His dark eyes meet yours, whispering against your lips, “You’re fucking soaking through your panties, and you weren’t gonna tell me?”

You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing. Wasn’t he shy just two minutes ago? Your mouth opens to answer him, but your brain is far too cloudy to form any coherent sentence, so you settle on a nod. He hums, pressing a kiss to your agape lips.

Once you feel his thumb tentatively brush against your clit through the thin fabric, you find the courage to slip your hand inside the waistband of his sweatpants, your fingers immediately brushing against his member. Minho shudders at the touch, his eyes still fixed on yours.

Your brows shoot up at the fact that he had foregone wearing boxers, and he chuckles lightly at your reaction.

“I never wear underwear to bed, so don’t think I was trying to seduce you,” he jokes.

“Too late,” you hum, “I was seduced the moment I saw your bright orange cat sweater.”

Minho grins, sucking your lower lip as he pushes your panties to the side painfully slowly, his middle finger gliding from your entrance toward your clit and spreading your arousal. With a sigh, you bring one leg to wrap around his waist, and he adjusts himself so he’s properly hovering over you. You take this opportunity to slide his sweatpants down his hips, his hard cock finally free from its confines. He groans low in his throat, his tongue suddenly licking into your open mouth as his right hand intertwines with your left, your fingers locking together. He presses your clasped hands onto the mattress beside your head.

Your hand now glides through his length, the palm of your hand beginning to rub at the head of his cock and Minho sucks in a breath, breaking the kiss, his eyes remaining closed. Pressing your thumb to the slit, you gather as much precum as you can and spread it through his member. You quickly find that it’s not enough, wanting it wetter and messier and—

Minho whines as you stop touching him, eyes shooting open. Bringing your hand to your lips, you lick a stripe on your palm and let a glob of spit fall on it before finding his cock again, wet both with your saliva and his precum as you begin to stroke him gingerly. With a quiet moan, Minho’s hips buck up at the touch and he kisses your lips again. You giggle into the kiss, inwardly thanking Hyunjin for teaching you that guys love sloppy shit like this and, in turn, making you realize you do too.

You avert your eyes from his intense gaze as his finger moves to find your entrance, pushing in slowly before moving at a steady pace.

He squeezes your hand. “Look at me,” his voice is all but a whisper, low and hurried. You turn to lock your eyes on his once more, immediately biting your lips to stop a moan from slipping out of your lips as his thumb begins to rub your clit in circular motions, and he slips another finger inside of your aching cunt. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep yourself from vocally begging him not to stop.

You focus on your own hand as you stroke his cock, your steady pace gradually quickening. Minho’s pace mirrors yours, and soon the small room fills with the noise of his finger swiftly pumping in and out of you mixed with the sound of your hand stroking him.

“What do you like?” Minho asks suddenly, his breath hitching as you tighten your fist around his cock. Your mind is far too clouded by desire and pleasure to fully comprehend, so you hum, your brows furrowing. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours with a quiet moan and curling his fingers inside you, causing your eyes to shut tightly and a whimper to escape your closed lips. “Look at me, baby,” he repeats himself, his voice firm and his shy demeanor having completely shifted. You slowly open your eyes. “What do you like? I — fuck,” He curses as your hand twists on the head of his cock. “Wanna make you feel good, tell me.”

You’re definitely not used to being vocal about what you want or like during sex; your ex-boyfriends always too selfish, and Hyunjin too confident for you to even have had the opportunity to do so. Coupled with just how good you felt, you know you won’t possibly be able to speak a word without moaning the way you’re trying so hard to avoid. You settle for guiding his hand, which was tangled in yours, under your shirt. Minho immediately massages your breast, his thumb caressing your nipple as his eyes find yours once more.

You feel as if his gaze is setting you ablaze, his eyes boring into you. It felt as if all his desire was accumulated in his dark eyes, clearly visible in how he watches you like he’s drinking in every last drop of you through his stare. You’ve never had someone look at you like this before; it makes you feel so wanted, so desired, as if the only thing Minho could ever need in this moment is you. That alone makes your body tremble, your left hand holding onto his shoulder for purchase as you feel you might float away at any second.

If you were told a couple of hours ago that something as simple as having Minho’s fingers inside you would have you so euphoric, you most definitely would have laughed.

Minho groans into your open mouth, his breathing heavy and his brows drawn together tightly. You force your lips shut once more as his thumb rubs your bundle of nerves more hastily. Your hand leaves his shoulder to tangle in his black hair, futilely attempting to tug him even closer to you before you kiss his agape lips that spill out groans and sighs like a mantra.

It’s almost all-consuming. His fingers inside of you, the warmth of his hand on your breast, his cock pulsating beneath your touch, his hot breaths that fill your lungs as he sighs into your kiss, and his eyes — his damn eyes that look at you as if he wants to eat you whole.

You finally allow yourself to moan as you feel your orgasm building up, whimpering his name against his lips as your strokes on his cock turn messy and desperate among the copious amounts of precum. Minho growls, pulling your hand from his hair — his grip on your wrist so firm it stings a little — before he pins you down to the mattress, fingers messily intertwining with yours again.

This time, you’re unable to restrain your whimper at his actions; Minho had always been gentle and sweet, something as simple as him pinning you down to the bed has you clenching around his fingers. This duality of his you just discovered is something that stirs up curiosity inside of you.

“I’m gonna come,” He announces with a sigh, his hand squeezing yours. You can only nod as you melt around his fingers, your whole body trembling. Minho soon follows, his cum spilling into your hand and your shirt, a low guttural sound leaving his throat.

His eyes only leave yours as he leans down to connect your lips again, giving you small kisses before a stifled laugh escapes him. You furrow your brows, and Minho grins.

“Sorry for getting your shirt dirty,” He mumbles against your lips, the two of you unwilling to move for the time being.

You shake your head with a chuckle. Although you cringe slightly as you feel the fabric of your shirt stick to your stomach.

“It’s okay.”

Minho shifts on top of you, and you only then realize his fingers remain inside of you. Your body jolts faintly at the stimulation, his name falling from your lips in the form of a whine. He grins at you again, all lopsided and handsome, before bringing his hand to his lips. You watch with agape lips as his tongue flicks out to lap at his fingers before sucking on them with a hum, his eyes locked onto yours once more.

Once again with this newfound duality of his. He’s pure romance and gentlemanly behavior, but seemingly so alluring and shameless in bed. The way he looks at you alone makes you clench around nothing as if you didn’t come mere minutes ago. And it’s such a simple act — you can’t count on one hand the number of times you watched as Hyunjin licked his fingers clean after being inside of you — but the contrast of his calm and endearing everyday personality and him suddenly pinning you to the bed or licking your cum off his fingers while looking into your eyes makes this entirely different.

You would’ve never expected this from Minho, and it makes your brain stir up with thoughts of what he would be like while eating you out or while fucking you. Would he pin you to the bed again or pull your hair, or maybe—

The sound of him clearing his throat interrupts you from your thoughts, and you only now realize you had been staring at the ceiling while fantasizing about Minho fucking you. Great.

Once your eyes meet, he’s quick to avert his gaze. “I will, uh, pay to wash your shirt when we — when we get back,” Minho stumbles over his words, his eyes now fixed on your shoulder. “If you want. But, like, I got it dirty, so…” He trails off, and you purse your lips to muffle the giggle that bubbled up your throat as it seems all the confidence he had only minutes ago had dissipated into dust and left his body.

He was back to his usual self. You can’t help but smile as you realize you adore any version of Minho.

He pushes himself off of you, muttering that he’ll be back before disappearing into the small bathroom. You remove your soiled shirt, wiping your hand on it, only to blanche at the sight of the logo printed on the fabric. It’s one of Hyunjin’s shirts that you had stolen ages ago. You mumble a string of apologies to him as you pull the covers off your body. After discarding it on your bed, you change into the first t-shirt you fish out of your backpack, worried Minho might come into the room and see your naked chest — as ludicrous as that was, seeing as he was knuckles deep inside of you less than twenty minutes ago.

Minho returns to the bedroom just as you’re closing the zipper on your bag. He silently takes your hand in his and wipes it with a towel, his head lowered as his eyes focus on his actions. You let out a breathy chuckle.

“There’s really nothing there anymore,” you inform him. “I wiped most of your cum on my shirt.” You nod toward the crumpled-up fabric thrown across the bed. Minho’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. He lets out a small noise, nodding his head slowly before ultimately pressing his lips together. Under the faint moonlight that lights up the room, you almost miss how his cheeks dust a shade of pink. You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. Minho hums, smiling back at you and dropping the towel on top of your shirt.

Soon, you find yourself back in bed with him, Minho pulling you into his chest, his hands now offering you pleasure by gingerly massaging your scalp. You are almost asleep — listening to his heartbeat through his sweater, smiling at the soft snores that escape his parted lips — when it dawned on you.

You notice just how different being with Minho had been. How kissing him alone made your hands shake, how even without being fully intimate, the way you felt with him tonight was incomparable.

Minho’s words from months ago about how sex with someone you love eclipses the feeling of sex with any other person linger in your memory. You hum, a smile on your lips as your eyes flutter closed again.

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

If it felt that way with Minho, it can only mean you’ve fallen for him.

Awakening to the sound of the heater’s soft hum, you feel Minho’s arm tightly around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. His gentle breathing brushes against the nape of your neck, and you cautiously turn your head, careful not to wake him, only to be greeted by his tender eyes already gazing at you with a soft smile. Cuddling with Minho is another thing that feels different. You feel safe, adored from how he holds you to the way his eyes look at you.

As he realizes you’re also awake, he suddenly turns to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling as his ears slowly turn a light shade of red. You frown, chuckling a bit at his actions, before settling yourself across his chest.

“The power came back a while after you fell asleep,” he explains.

You giggle as you assume maybe he’s shy because of what happened last night. But your smile fades as your mind begins to overthink, your subconscious screaming that maybe you should feel shy, embarrassed. Weren’t you too easy? Letting him touch you like that after just a few kisses. Does Minho think you came into bed with him for that reason?

You think back to the last boyfriend you had, who berated you for how ‘whorish’ it had been when you asked to have sex with him instead of waiting for him to initiate it. And how your first boyfriend would tell you — every chance he got — that you acted like a slut, touching him as if you knew it would make him have sex with you. How, at the end of your relationship, he told you maybe you acted that way because you knew that sex was all you were good for. How another ex had laughed as he told you that even though you went through so many guys, you still managed to be a terrible fuck, and that was the reason he had to cheat on you.

There were also the murmurs around your school whenever you started a new relationship. Another one? She’s boy hopping so much she’s gonna get through our entire class in less than a year. Some girls just can’t stand to be alone, it’s kind of sad.

At some point, you had detangled yourself from Minho, now lying on your side and looking out the window. You never understood why so many people thought that way. You had five boyfriends from fifteen to eighteen, and in each of these relationships, you were either cheated on or broken up with in a less-than-pleasant way. But you did have the awful habit of jumping into relationships with little thought, often because you felt incomplete without a romantic partner — as romantic as high school relationships can be, anyway. Being single and content for almost four years now, you were proud to have worked on that.

But you still can’t shake off the feeling that maybe you were a bit too… forward. You were single, sure, but you were quick to jump at the opportunity to have Hyunjin as a fuck buddy. Perhaps people were right about that.

“Is everything okay?” Minho’s voice pulls you away from your racing thoughts. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

Sitting upright on the bed, you stretch with a sigh. Minho takes your hand before you can realize it, placing it on his chest and gently playing with your fingers, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. You gnaw on your bottom lip, pulling at the skin until it stings.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward last night,” you blurt out. Minho’s gaze shifts to focus on you, confusion swimming in his brown eyes and his hands halting around yours. Oh god, why did you say that?

“Forward?” The question trails off his lips, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

With a sigh, you grimace at your own words. “Yeah, forward, like I was throwing myself at you. I’m sorry if it came off that way. I swear I’m not…”

“You’re not…?”

“You know what I mean, Minho,” you mumble, but his eyes remain swarmed with confusion.

“I really don’t.”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, annoyed not at him but at yourself for having brought this up in the first place.

“You know, Minho,” you groan, “Forward, like, slutty. Like I asked to come to your bed just so you would fuck me.”

His expression softens, his eyes widening. He sits up as well, his hand still clutching yours.

“Why the fuck would I think that?” He asks matter-of-factly. “What happened last night was completely natural. We made out, we got horny, we took care of it together. You didn’t even ask me to touch you, I did it because I was dying to do it. You weren’t forward — you weren’t slutty.”

You feel the heavy veil of worry lift off your shoulders at his words. It was definitely going to take a while for you to work on that aspect of your trauma. This had never been an issue with Hyunjin since you were pursuing nothing more than a sexual relationship with him — things were different with Minho.

Minho was the complete opposite.

After countless moments of your heart racing and your hands trembling because of him, you finally confess to yourself that your affection for Minho extends well beyond platonic feelings.

With a small smile, you slowly nod your head. “Sorry for bringing this up, I just… didn’t want you to think badly of me.”

Minho smiles, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “That wouldn’t have made me think badly of you. I’m not some Victorian man who thinks women should be burned at the stake for showing their ankles,” he chuckles, and you bite back a laugh. “Even if you had been slutty, so what? I’d like that just as much.”

You playfully hit his shin under the comforter as he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Minho was unquestionably different.

“We gotta get to the airport soon,” he says with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head, carrying your hand along the way. “I had to book the earliest flight I could to save up some money.”

With a frown, you retrieve your phone from under your pillow and check for the time: seven-thirty a.m. You feel a pang of guilt as you recall how you are essentially on this trip for free.

“Why didn’t Chan help with the tickets?”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek before his lips stretch into a barely-there grin. “Chan was never coming to this trip,” he blurts out. You feel your lips fall agape.

“What?”

“I… planned this trip by myself. Only for you and me,” he explains. “I wanted to get far away from everything that distracted us so I could concentrate on showing you the good side of love like I’d been trying to do with all those fruitless attempts at taking you on dates.”

You take in his words and find yourself smiling at the gesture — the white lie Minho told pales in comparison to everything else he has done for you, both during this trip and since you met him. Truthfully, you didn’t even realize he had been taking you on dates. You mentally slap yourself in the head for that, believing he simply wanted to spend time with you as a friend.

“I’ll pay you back for my part of the trip as soon as—”

Minho’s voice interrupts you with a drawn-out ‘no.’ He smiles as you stare at him, puzzled.

“This entire trip must’ve been so expensive, Minho.”

But he’s unrelenting, shaking his head with a squeeze of your hand.

“I told you,” he says simply. “I do stupid shit when I’m in love.”

♡ taglist: @notevenheretbh1 @malunar28replies @jazziwritesthings @finchyyy @bloom-ings @linocz @minhochaos @lastgreatamericandynasty1

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eiflawriting · 2 years ago

Note

Hiya! I was wondering if maybe you could write something like kyoraku fucking you in a sundress? Like you’ve planned a picnic date and then he sees you all dressed up in a pretty yellow sundress and makes you sit on his face in the middle of the park? Ty love x

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 𝐤𝐲ō𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

(✧) ─ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 shunsui finally has a day off from his captain duties, so y/n decides to plan a romantic picnic to help him relax. upon seeing her in that pretty little dress, he thought of other ways to do so.

(✧) ─ ��𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔! black woman who uses she/her pronouns ─ chubby!reader. established relationship ── husband x wife. same couple from goodmorning, my love. part ii. to my four part series. NO MANGA SPOILERS. third POV, usage of profanity, praising and breeding kink, VOYEURISM ── public s3x. oral!receiving ── face sitting, missionary position, terms of endearment ── cupcake, sweetheart, my love, angel, baby, pretty girl, etc. squirting, creampie. this is just some passionate love making in the garden. shunsui is wearing a yukata and i think it's hot. 3.3k word count.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(✧) ─ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

my goodness. first of all, im sorry this request took so long. i have like three different versions of this fic written, but decided to go with this one. i absolutely love it. nonnie, i hope you're still here with me lol. i also just came off a writing hiatus, so im going to try to knock out my other requests, which are also bleach characters, hehe. shoutout to nonnie for being my first completed request. ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ no more rambling. i hope y'all enjoy. interactions would be greatly appreciated. ♡ eighteen plus only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𝑺𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑼𝑰 𝑺𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑺 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝒀/𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 𝑨 𝑪𝑼𝑷, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑯. His grey irises were glued to Y/N, mesmerized by her gorgeous appearance. A day never went by when Shunsui wasn't obsessed with her beauty, but today he found himself staring more than usual. Did it have something to do with the substance circulating his system or the short yellow dress Y/N was wearing?

Maybe both.

When Shunsui saw Y/N, he felt himself coming undone in the yukata she picked out for him to wear. He wondered where she got this dress from? Perhaps a gift from Rukia when she returned from the World of the Living? If so, he would surely thank her the next time he ran into her.

The dress held Y/N's curves perfectly. With every step she took, her tits bounced like they were dying to be freed. A few times on the stroll to the garden, the wind blew heavily to expose her garments. The pervert in Shunsui wanted the wind to blow harder to reveal more, but of course, the gentleman in him helped Y/N adjust.

Shunsui declared yellow was Y/N's color. It complimented her deep brown skin well—and the sun couldn't agree more, descending upon her complexion to illuminate the natural glow she already had. To think this day was supposed to be reserved for spending time with Y/N and relaxing. All he could think about was fucking her in that pretty little dress. Well, that sounds quite relaxing to him, at least.

"My love, you're staring," Y/N said while her eyes remained focused on rummaging through the picnic basket.

Of course, he was. How couldn't he? If only she could witness the lewd thoughts permeating Shunsui's mind. They were beyond obscene, visualizing her thighs suffocating his face while he ate her pussy until she was a cumming mess. Fucking Y/N, gazing at her tits bouncing invitingly until they fell out her top. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra either. The dress's material was thin enough to have her nipples peek through.

Fuck, she was so damn sexy. Shunsui's cock was growing harder the longer he watched.

"Can you blame me for having a beautiful wife?"

Y/N wrinkled her nose. "Hmm, maybe you're right. I can't blame you, but you could at least say what's on your mind."

"Why do you think something's on my mind?"

"Hmm, maybe because you're giving me those bedroom eyes, and your cheeks are quite red. I know you could handle your liquor."

He chuckled, using his free hand to throw up in defeat. "You got me. You'll probably think I'm a pervert if I tell you what's on my mind."

"Baby—I thought you were a pervert since we met. I don't think a few of your wet fantasies would make me think otherwise." The laugh he belted from his stomach pulled strings in Y/N's heart. So genuine. He needed this day.

Shunsui leaned back to pat on his lap, wanting Y/N to take comfort, which she had no issue doing. A delightful ache rushed to his cock from feeling Y/N's clothed sex on him. Her lips were ghosting over his, inches from kissing but instead taking in the lingering aroma of sake. She brushed her nose along the bridge of his nose, an intimate gesture they did to express their love, before wrapping her arms around Shunsui's neck and finding his lips.

While sharing a heated kiss, Y/N began rubbing her pussy on Shunsui to pull those husked groans from his chest. His free hand rested on the small of her back to aid the rolling motion of her hips. Y/N halted her movements to softly gasp due to feeling his erection grow against her clothed sex. However, Shunsui saw no reason for her to stop.

Shunsui chugged the last of his sake before grabbing Y/N's legs to wrap around him, having her comfortably straddle him. He placed his hands on her hips to continue her movements while massaging each other's lips. Every moan, grunt, and plea was devoured with the intent of wanting to do more than just make out, especially for Shunsui.

A greedy man he was when it came to Y/N. He wanted to discover every kink and pinpoint of her body until all her weaknesses were revealed. Any chance he had was used to taking his time pleasing her in ways she didn't know was possible, but Shunsui made it so. And today would just be another one of those experiments.

"I want you to bear my children, my love," Shunsui rasped, pecking her lips between words before peppering kisses along her neck. "You look so damn beautiful and sexy in this dress. I want to fuck you while you wear it."

"Mmm, let's go back—"

He shook his head. "No. Right here. Let me fuck you right here in the middle of the garden."

"S-Shunsui—I don't know if I'll be able to be quiet. And what if someone sees us?" Y/N words barely came out as normal. Her breathy moans only indicated she was on board with him.

He tugged her earlobe between his teeth, whispering, "Hmm, conservative now, are we? I recall you stopping by before my captain meetings a few times because you said you missed me—And lunch wasn't the only thing you were dropping off."

Shunsui earned a knowing look from Y/N that was filled with desire. She didn't even bother to argue because it was true. Y/N genuinely visited Shunsui at the barracks to bring him lunch. But there was just something about seeing him tend to his captain duties that had a pleasurable ache rush to her center. And let's just say when Shunsui walked her out of the room, she attracted a few stares from his subordinates.

She nipped on her bottom lip, letting out a deflating sigh. "Why have I married you again?"

"Because you love me, and I love you. Now come here—Sit on my face." Shunsui wasted no time laying on his back to prepare to feast on Y/N. She attempted to remove her dress, but he stopped her. "I was very serious when I said I want to please you while you wear this dress, sweetheart."

He sat up a bit to grab Y/N's waist to pull her onto his face, causing her to giggle. That giggle soon turned into a soft moan upon feeling Shunsui lap at her clit through her panties. The barrier of her garments acted as a tease and a surprise for something great. Her natural odor graced his nostrils, reminding him how he became pussydrunk, to begin with.

The feeling of Y/N's pussy being toyed with through her panties was a great delight—as if the material of her garments gave her clit more friction. She even found herself riding his face in hopes of reaching her release quicker. But she should know that Shunsui took his time pleasing her.

Libido was pumping through their veins, but mainly Y/N. Shunsui was a tease in more ways than one. However, she felt like she was on the edge of a mountain. She was desperate to cum, and although her orgasm was right there—it wouldn't come. Not until his tongue was pleasing her without the barrier. It felt like an everlasting sensation of falling out of the sky.

Y/N hiked up her dress to look down at Shunsui, seeing that pretty scarlet color decorate his cheeks. She just knew he was enjoying taunting her. His mouth was preoccupied, but his eyes twinkled a light of mischief and ecstasy. Y/N thought he looked so sexy smothered between her thighs, but she needed more, and she didn't mind begging for it.

"Baby, stop teasing me—please."

"Gosh, I just love when you're so needy and impatient for me, angel. Just this once, I'll give you what you want."

He slipped Y/N's panties to the side to attack her clit. He groaned from having her taste on his tongue, joyfully rolling his eyes back. Shunsui was hungry for this pussy. Taking care of Y/N was the highlight of his day. If only he could spend every day like this—spreading her ass cheeks to obnoxiously eat her pussy and second hole.

Shunsui's moans transferred vibrations to her throbbing bud, causing Y/N to cry his name. He slipped two fingers inside her to produce more of those dulcet cries, which went straight to cock.

Y/N was so wet for Shunsui and created a mess on his face. Being drowned in her wetness was no issue for him at all. Y/N's juices coated his facial hair and dripped down his chin. She kept whimpering his name, saying how close she was to cumming, and that only aided his feasting to become more passionate. Thrusting his fingers knuckles deep into her cunt while sucking vigorously on her clit. And he couldn't neglect the hidden flavor behind the long side of her labia.

"Fuck, you taste so good, cupcake. I love this pussy," Shunsui mumbled.

"Shun, suck me harder. I'm right there."

So sensitive she was when it came to Shunsui's touch. Teasing Y/N through her garments was the calm before the storm. She just knew as soon as she felt him lapping at her clit she would cum quickly. Her actions also proved this accurate—pressing her weight on his face, suffocating him between her thighs while riding his tongue.

Y/N began feeling herself and imagined Shunsui running his hands through her curves. Somewhere along the lines of yes, please, oh God, and a few more curse words was all that she could say. However, Shunsui fucking the air caught her attention. She looked over her shoulders to witness how hard his erection became. If she didn't know any better, the wet spot on his yukata was the overload of precum seeping through.

She bit her lip, thinking about how badly she wanted to suck the soul out of his dick. But that would be saved for another time.

Shunsui pumped his fingers faster and deeper into Y/N until he hit her sweet spot to pull back her attention. He consumed Y/N's wetness, slurping her juices and generating slurping sounds like her pussy was a popsicle on the verge of melting. His free hand was used to repeatedly smack her ass and rub to alleviate the sting. Shunsui knew she enjoyed his actions. How she clenched around his fingers couldn't say otherwise.

And it wasn't long before her orgasm washed over his face.

Y/N saw stars while riding out her release. Despite her moans being hitched, they still managed to push through. She panted above him and, as always, thanked Shunsui for delivering great pleasures.

Typically, Shunsui would continue pleasing Y/N past her orgasm because he enjoyed her sensitivity, but he was just dying to fuck her. He ran his tongue along her folds a bit longer before removing Y/N from his face. He sat her on the blanket to begin freeing himself from his yukata. She watched him with lidded eyes, chest heaving slowly, licking her lips with anticipation to see his girthy cock.

"You like what you see, darling?"

Y/N giggled. "Oh, shut up and fuck me already."

"Hmm, quite a demand from someone so worried about having sex in the garden."

She pulled him by the band of his yukata to have him inches away from her mouth. "I said—shut up—and come fuck me." And found his lips once more.

Their kiss was so passionately sloppy. Moaning and groaning from the lingering taste of Y/N on his tongue. He hurriedly lowered his yukata enough to expose his aching cock. Although Shunsui had all day with her, it seemed like he was still in a rush to fuck her fat wet pussy. He only left a few more smooches before descending into Y/N's neck to nip harshly at her flesh.

While he stroked his dick to spread his precum and prepare to be inside her, he freed her breasts from the dress because they looked like they needed air. How Y/N's full saggy tits jumped out her top was beyond obnoxious. Fuck, he couldn't resist sucking them into his mouth just to savor for a bit.

After showing equal love to Y/N's tits, he again slipped her panties to the side and leaned forward until Y/N was lying on her back. He grabbed her legs to hook one thigh under his forearm and pin the other. Shunsui ran his tongue across her bottom lip while his tip rested on her sex to tease, and just when she parted her lips to complain—he pushed in.

But of course, her pussy was stubborn, involuntary resisting, and only allowing the head.

He gathered saliva in his mouth to drip on his dick. Her wetness was enough lubricant, but Shunsui knew doing this would create that obscene queefing sound he loved hearing. He took his time working open her pussy, pumping tenderly until he was deep.

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out soft whimpers, indicating her approval of his actions. How was his tip alone able to bring her this much pleasure already? But no. She needed to take all eight inches of Shunsui to make him proud.

"My love, I—I can take it. Give me more," Y/N breathed.

He held his hips still to watch her, seeing how the sun was attracted to the tiny beads of sweat decorating her forehead. He noticed how tears began pricking the corner of those pretty chestnut-colored eyes. Y/N's hand was already resting on Shunsui's lower abdomen in preparation to hold him to alleviate the pressure. It didn't matter how often they had sex—Shunsui is a very passionate partner, and Y/N needed time to adjust.

But if she said she was ready… then she was ready.

He bottomed out.

She let out a pitched yelp.

He pulled out and did it again.

And again.

He fucked Y/N to make her cum all over his cock and milk her to breed her pussy. With every thrust, his balls smacked her sex. He was fucking Y/N at full force to have her breasts bounce uncontrollably. They sat so nicely outside the pretty little yellow dress she was wearing. This is what Shunsui was visualizing when he saw her in this dress.

"Y/N, squeeze your breasts together with your arms," Shunsui ordered, to which she happily complied. "Yes, just like that. Fuck, you're so sexy. So good to me, sweetheart."

"Shun, oh God! Don't stop fucking me like this, baby."

He won't. He won't stop fucking his sweet wife like a wild animal hunting prey. If anything, he'll fuck her harder until she gushes and creams his cock, and he paints her walls. Until she's crying his name from the pit of her stomach. Shunsui kissed Y/N's cervix just enough to deliver another orgasm and not bring discomfort.

Y/N's cheeks only grew warmer the more her pleasure was built. Shunsui was a lot to handle, but she molded around him perfectly with his patience to stretch her walls. Her pussy sucked him in and out. Based on how his eyes were glued between them, he was delighted by this sight. But Y/N wanted him to look at her.

"L-Look at me, Shunsui."

His dick twitched from her order that sounded too sweet. He gave her soft smooches to express his apologies. "I'm sorry, angel. You want me to watch you when you cum, hm?"

"Yes, please."

Gosh, why did she sound like that?

Shunsui freed her thighs to take comfort in holding her thick waist. He pounded into her to hear her pussy smile. He quickly glanced to see a heap of cream on his cock. When he returned his eyes to Y/N, he saw her squeezing her nipple while attempting to suck the other in her mouth. The visual of this was so pornographic. His dick couldn't stop jumping unruly.

He was going to bust soon.

And she wasn't too far behind.

"You're going to let me breed you. Isn't that right, my love? That's what you promised me, yeah?" But, despite his words coming out as a question, he wasn't asking.

More so, telling her.

"Yes. I'll do anything for you, Shun."

"You're always so fucking good to me."

His hands remained on her waist to fuck her, also pulling down Y/N to meet with his thrusts. He pressed his weight onto her to sensually kiss Y/N, overpowering her pretty two-toned lips with his tongue. Shunsui glided across her jawline and neck to suck fervently on her flesh to pull back those sweet yelps. Her walls wrapped around him acted as a turtleneck sweater providing warmth to his cock. It would only take a few more strokes until Y/N was a cumming mess.

Shunsui removed one of his hands from Y/N to move his fingers to her pearl to rub out her orgasm. His pace was erratic, and he was eager to feel her wash over him again. Y/N's moans reverberated around the garden, yet they were still sweet and soft. His grunts joined her sounds of pleasure to harmonize. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she couldn't look more beautiful—happier. Words couldn't describe how much Shunsui loves her. She was perfect.

"Ah—Ngh, oh my gosh, Shun. Baby, I'm cumming. You're making me cum," Y/N whimpered, sniffling her tears of joy.

"I just love hearing those words from your pretty mouth. You're so gorgeous, my angel. I love you so much. Always milking my cock with this warm, tight pussy. Fuck, you feel amazing." The praises Shunsui was saying to Y/N only helped build her climax further. She was squeezing him, and her pussy produced stirring wet noises. He applied more pressure to her clit and flicked it more quicker. "Mmm, cum for me, Y/N."

His balls were growing heavy. Shunsui put all his strength into his thrusts until they became sloppy, indicating his near orgasm. He repeatedly touched Y/N's cushion, which had her whimpering and toes curling.

He ghosted his mouth over her ears. "Let go for me, sweetheart. I want you to release everything on me. I feel you. Don't hold back, okay? I'm yours."

"..."

"I'm yours," he repeated in a hushed tone.

"Oh–f-fuck…."

And that was it. A beautiful wave washed between them as Y/N squirted and milked his cock, and Shunsui drowned her pussy with his bitters. His sloppy thrusts didn't halt until he ensured every last drop of cum emptied in her depths. He moaned her name, saying she was his good girl, calling her beautiful, and saying he would make her a mommy.

Once the couple came down from their high, Shunsui pulled Y/N onto his lap with his dick inside her. He showered her face with gentle kisses before finding her soft lips. Having Y/N in his arms was the best feeling he could ask for.

Upon parting from the heartfelt kiss, they held eye contact to share a look of lust. Two lovers, drunk off love and sake after fucking passionately in the middle of the garden. However, Y/N almost forgot she was in public until hearing the voices of his subordinates. How she yelped and curled into Shunsui, smothering her face on his bare chest, made his heart flutter.

She softly bit his flesh to show her playful frustration of agreeing to be fucked in a public setting. "Remind me to never do this again."

"Haha. I can remind you, but we both know you don't believe in the word never. Now, come on. Let's go home and clean up."

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙. ♡

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 ── @dejwrites @beniswife @ayyy-pee @maydayaisha @violxtbxbyy @chaotic-nick @aiyaaayei @bontensbabygirl @po3ticb3auty @angrybirdxx @alinvert @heartdevil @caribbeanwifey19 @sexbob-ombbeck @softimgyu @kimorikuri @adoretruly @akondo @kinize20 @snowflakeanimelover @kawaiigirljenae99 @zabimarushoney67 @ghoulette420 @stargirllust @kenpachis-woman @magxnoria @kenpachiislit

#anime x black!reader #anime smut #anime x reader #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x black reader #shunsui x reader #shunsui x black reader #shunsui kyoraku x reader #shunsui kyoraku x black reader #shunsui smut #black reader #x black fem reader #anime x chubby reader #bleach x you #eifla's fic requests ʚɞ

2K notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 7 months ago

Text

Marshall + Lily HCs

Note : to anyone who enjoys the Marshall + Lily series… here are a few HCs. Things that are canon to the series, even though I might not put it in an actual chapter 👀. I hope you enjoy it ❤️. Also, happy first day of summer ! It means we’re close to finally getting the album 💿

Meeting Reader & Relationship with her

* He proposed on the very day he met you. It was a joke, of course, but he couldn’t help it. At first, when Paul mentioned hiring someone and having a new member on the Shady Records Team, he wasn’t a big fan of the idea (he’s such a creature of habit). But when he met you, it was a done deal : you were gorgeous but, most of all, you were the first woman he met who had a hip-hop culture to rival his own. According to him, you’re the perfect woman.

* He met Lily (who was four months old then) a couple of weeks later and he was gutted when he learned you had a child. He almost felt cheated on, imagining that you hadn’t mentioned you were married. But when you told him that you had her on your own and she didn’t have a dad, it made him even more impressed with you.

* You actually bonded over your experiences as single parents and you were grateful for everything he shared, since Lily was your first child and you were still learning how to navigate things.

* Since you moved to Detroit alone with Lily and didn’t really know people outside of work, he showed up when he thought you needed it. You mentioned you had trouble putting an IKEA bookshelf together ? Car troubles ? He was there with a smile and his toolbox.

* Attraction was immediate on both sides and evident to everyone. He was actually quick to ask you on a date but you turned him down. Partly because you weren’t too sure about dating your boss but also because Lily was so young and your ultimate priority.

* You stayed friends for a couple of months until you actually made the move.

* Lily had health issues that led to her having to undergo pediatric surgery and Marshall showed up in the waiting room to make sure you were ok. He brought you coffee and basically just tried to ease your nerves. As soon as the surgeon came to tell you that everything was fine and Lily would be more than ok, you cried tears of relief in Marshall’s arms and kissed him.

* You were mortified about it (even if he kissed you back) and didn’t really talk to him for days after.

* When you finally talked about it and you profusely apologized, he assured you that it was fine and you half-expected him to ask you out again but he didn’t. He made you ask him out (because he got turned down once and he wanted to get back at you a little).

* You were nervous about dating while Lily was so young but he consistently proved you that he was willing to adapt to your schedule and needs.

* After a while, most dates came to include Lily. He’s the one who brought the idea of taking her with you because he always wanted to see more of you and knew you wouldn’t realistically let her with a babysitter that often.

* Lily did ruin a few dates though.

* Just imagine having a romantic dinner with Marshall at your place, past her bedtime and planning everything to seal the deal. Sexy dress, amazing lingerie, hot make out session on the couch… only to keep on being interrupted by a bawling baby (you definitely didn’t get any that night).

* It actually took you a WHILE in your relationship to actually sleep together. Not because you didn’t want to (because, again, chemistry) but because of logistics. At some point you thought he would get sick of it and break up but he was in too deep already.

* He never really told you but he fell in love much faster than you did.

* The fact that you had a daughter he was often around also pushed him to be a better version of himself in your relationship and behave very well.

* You tried to hide your relationship at first (from Paul, Tracy, the team) but Marshall’s relationship with Lily was the biggest telltale sign that you were together. The whole team loved her and she was Shady Record’s unofficial mascot but, even if she had always been obsessed with Marshall, it became clear that they spent a LOT of time around each other 👀

Lily as the official Mascot of Shady Records

* You often brought Lily to work, for things like getting a little bit more work done after picking her up at daycare. It wasn’t rare seeing you around the office, working with Lily in a baby carrier.

* The whole team was very supporting of your mothering and, since she wasn’t much of a disturbance and a peaceful baby, they didn’t mind you bringing her.

* She quickly became the mascot and everyone sort of became aunts and uncles to her.

* As she grew up, though, she became more distracting to everyone and it was harder to get work done. I can absolutely see Marshall getting bored in a meeting you had to take her to (because it was late) and spending more time making faces at her than listening to Paul.

* But no one ever had the heart to tell you not to bring Lily because they like her and you actually happen to be efficient. They’re just so easily distracted.

* By the time she is two or three, she is absolutely running her world. She has toys over the place, there’s juice pouches in the fridge for her, she knows she can disturb her uncle Paul and sit in his office chair, she enjoys messing around with the buttons on the mixing board… she also meets a couple of artists on the roster (her favorite is Boogie). Basically, it’s Lily’s world and everyone just happens to be living in it.

* Everyone always jokes that she’ll inherit the label when she grows up.

Lily’s relationship with Marshall

* Marshall happens to be very good with children and he was always great with her, even when you were just friends.

* While you were dating, they quickly formed a bond, to a point where he was able to anticipate her needs and they didn’t need much words.

* Sometimes it made you scared and you asked yourself questions like “what happens if we break up ? Lily will be crushed” but Marshall put them to rest. Because he did not plan on leaving anyway, and if you ever broke up with him didn’t mean he would ignore Lily if she was around the studio.

* Marshall referred to baby Lily as the most efficient sleeping pill on earth. If she sleeps in his arms, he nods off super easily. So seeing them napping on the couch was never a rare sight.

* She’s also a very efficient alarm so it’s a two-way street, really…

* When she was a toddler, they had chaotic raccoon duo energy. She brought his inner child out. Thank God, it got calmer after a while.

* Marshall’s shoulders and arms are Lily’s favorite mode of transportation. He is always carrying her everywhere.

* He is also virtually unable to say no to her. Always was.

* At the time you got together, Stevie was fifteen and she was jealous of Lily for a while. Because Lily required a lot of attention and she was also a bit weirded out by the fact that her dad was dating someone other than her mom.

* With time, Lily developed a great relationship with Stevie, Hailie and Alaina. As Marshall’s girlfriend daughter and then their adoptive sister.

* She was obsessed with Stevie since she’s the youngest one, following her like a puppy.

* She has a different relationship with every one of Marshall’s daughters but it’s equally good.

* Overall, Marshall’s eldest daughters agree that Lily has it much better than them. Because Marshall is at a point in his career where he has a bit more time and is more secure. So he’s around a lot and he isn’t as strict as he used to be. They don’t mind though, they love their little sister.

* Marshall always says that Lily got the best version of him : sober, healthy, peaceful & with much more free time.

* Their favorite thing to do together is drawing and playing video games.

* After he adopted her he had a Lily flower tattooed on this inside of his arm

* « Daddy » is Lily’s magic word. She says it and all her wishes come true, because Marshall is too proud of that title. (He had to earn it !)

* You never lied to Lily about how you had her (IVF, donor) and that she was adopted by Marshall. She doesn’t really care about not being biologically his, since Alaina and Stevie aren’t either.

* However, once the twins are born, she’s a bit angsty about it. Everyone is pointing out how much they take after him and she’s scared that he won’t love her as much.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #marshall and lily

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shotmrmiller · 8 months ago

Note

Everyone is talking about that one fic, so Imma join in

In my angsty-mind, Simon almost instantly regrets leaving reader for his best friend. Because in all truth, he fell in love with the version that was his best friend, not her as a romantic partner. She just acts differently now and it feels wrong to Simon. But he knows it’s fucked to go back on claiming she was the one, he left you and knows he can’t go back.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he regrets it. And it’s not like he doesn’t love the best friend, it’s just different than he initially thought…

Cue him seeing reader from a distance in a store, holding a newborn. He nearly dies inside. Maybe he denied wanting to be a father during the relationship, but this changed his mind. He decides in that moment he’s going to take a risk and approach reader, after all, the kid is likely his. He doesn’t know what he’s gonna say, but he knows he wants to be there as a better dad than he had.

Only, he stops in his tracks when he sees Price. The bastard never mentioned being in a relationship with reader, but it’s more than clear from the fact that Price is pushing a trolly with the twin. (Also the fact that Price kissed the side of readers head and put his hand on her waist)

Simon is devastated that reader has cut any chance of Simon being a father, letting Price fill in (it’s deserved ngl), and by not even telling Simon about his kids existence.

So, Simon doesn’t approach, instead slinking off to another part of the store and eventually the bed he shares with his gf/bff. His mind forever plagued with guilt and disappointment.

(I’ve seen too many stories of people fucking up friendships bc they decided to date/hook up and it doesn’t work out)

mhm mhm i love that simon said bastard but im gonna go fuck off.

love that for all of us.

smartest decision he's ever made.

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hbyrde36 · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that.

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse.

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content.

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life.

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal.

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.”

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting.

Not that he was one to pout.

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh.

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him.

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged.

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day.

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go.

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy.

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go.

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.”

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job!

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting.

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry.

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was…

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory.

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley.

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force.

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was.

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love.

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.

“It’s great.” Steve said.

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right.

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed.

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry.

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work.

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm.

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him.

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant.

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower.

He shouldn’t.

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely.

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked.

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat.

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes.

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?”

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke.

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me. Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.”

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter.

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on.

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry.

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end.

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal.

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times.

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps.

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation.

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?”

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call.

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?”

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for.

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.”

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?”

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long.

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze.

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid!

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one.

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat.

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him?

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on.

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

#steddie fanfic #stranger things reverse big bang #steddie #tattoo artist eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #tattoo artist chrissy cunningham

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enchantedchocolatebars · 2 months ago

Text

A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human Chapter 5 : Befriending The Enemy

Written by 💕 enchantedchocolatebars 🍫 (me, lol).

Ao3 version.

Commission cover art.

Cover art poll.

Chapter titles.

Fic playlist 🎵 💕 🎶 ✨️ <3

Cover redraw.

Enjoy!

(Really love how I worded my notes for this chapter on ao3, btw!)

The sudden sound of water rushed into a bowl as the three Titan eggs continued to remain comfortable in their bed.

Seconds later, the door to their room began to open.

"Ah," the Titan let out in relief as he stepped inside, a piece of toilet paper clinging to his foot as he took a seat in his rocking chair.

"Now," he began, reaching for the thick hardcover he placed on the floor.

"Back to our story." He flipped to the fifth chapter.

...

"Oh, Philip."

The atmosphere's blackness slowly fades as blue eyes slowly open, revealing a view of Caleb.

"Philip," Caleb coos out a second time, his smile soft as he stands above his brother's bed, wielding a pitchfork.

Philip's eyes slowly begin to shut.

"Philip!"

"Gah!"

The younger teen jolts up.

"What?" Philip groans out in a groggy tone, soon sitting up as he scratches the back of his messy bed head.

Philip watched as Caleb's smile got bigger, a look of alarmed excitement appearing on the blonde's face. "There's a witch in our home!" he exclaimed.

The news caused Philip's eyes to widen. "A witch?!" he repeated in shock, clutching his covers.

Caleb confirmed with a nod of his head as he continued. "She broke in not too long along. I have no doubt that I saw her downstairs."

A hand gestures at Philip to quickly get up. "Come on, Pip, don't just sit there! I can't defeat this she-demon alone! I need your help!"

As Caleb races out of the room, Philip quickly springs out of bed, briskly grabbing his wooden sword from under his pillow before rushing after his brother, his heart pounding.

Despite his nervousness, he was equally enthusiastic about aiding his brother in fighting a witch.

Both teens were passionate about witch hunting and eradicating evil from Gravesfield.

...

"Caleb?" Philip whispered out as he slowly entered the dim dining room. "Caleb? Caleb, where are you?" Philip wondered where on earth the elder went. "Did you get the witch?"

Suddenly, a thought came to Philip that he wished he hadn't thought of.

"Oh no..." As he hurried to the front door, the brunette felt an uneasy tightness in his stomach. "No, no, no. The witch didn't. She didn't take him. She didn't! Did she...? No!"

Philip's only companion in life was Caleb, and he was afraid of losing him, especially to a witch. As anxiety swirls in his mind, Philip opens the door and sees--

"... Oh, hi!" Mr. Kookman, walking by, pauses in place as he greets Philip with a wave.

Henrietta, by her husband's side, proceeds to cluck.

The pair were taking an early morning romantic stroll together.

"Oh... hi," Philip greets back with an awkward smile and waves before closing the door.

As he turned around, he immediately let out a high shriek as he faced a figure much taller than him that appeared to have a skeletal visage.

As Philip fell back onto his bottom, he began to hyperventilate as he pursed his lips and attempted to breathe slowly, only to hear familiar chuckles come from the figure.

Caleb couldn't help but collapse into laughter upon seeing Philip's reaction as he fell down, kicking his feet gleefully in the air as he rocked back and forth, Philip's wooden mask slipping from his face.

As Caleb continues to chortle like a child, we get a freeze frame of him, and the show switches to an art nouveau style with entertaining facts about him listed on screen.

Name: Caleb Wittebane

Age: 17

Desires: To become a famous carpenter who travels the world! (And to someday meet Queen Elizabeth I! Oh, wait…)

Likes: Being older, of course… and cardinals.

Fun fact: He might find ways to sometimes skip church, but shh, don't tell anyone (especially not Mr. Town Minister).

As Caleb's laughter gradually fades, he sits up and wipes a tear from his eye, only for a large brown Bible to strike him right in the face.

An enraged Philip gets his own freeze frame with facts.

Name: Philip Wittebane

Age: 13

Favorite Weapon: His Bible (both literally and figuratively)

Favorite Food: His brother's flapjacks

Is totally in love with: Jesus Christ

...

The early morning had soon turned into early afternoon as Caleb stood before his bedroom door, a small, guilt-ridden smile on his face.

It was evident that someone was preventing him from entering inside, mainly due to the door being locked.

The thick tension in the air was palpable to Caleb as he started speaking.

"Come on, Pip, I said I was sorry," the blonde explained with a nervous laugh. "Please don't stay mad at me. You have to admit, the look on your face was pretty hilarious."

Caleb released more anxious laughter with the hope that his brother would join him as a sign of forgiveness, but instead, he was met with cold silence.

Caleb sighed as his laughter dissipated, his guilt now weighing heavily on him.

"Hey, Philip." He knocked gently on the door. "I truly am sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have woken you up so early in the morning just to pull a prank on you."

Caleb heard a miffed huff come from behind the door.

"Your prank was stupid!" Philip growled.

'Oh, he's speaking to me now. That's a good sign,' Caleb thought to himself. "I know, I know, but--"

"Say it!"

Caleb sighed. "My prank was stupid," he muttered out, his voice filled with shame.

"And?"

The blonde hung his head.

"And I'm sorry. I wish to make amends with you, Pip."

Reaching behind his back, Caleb proceeded to pull out a flyer.

With a grin starting to form on his face, he said, "Your favorite witch hunter is holding a book signing for his recent autobiography at the library today."

"He... is?" Philip asked, a spark of interest in his voice.

Caleb nodded. "That's right. I figured I could take you."

Caleb was aware of his brother's copy of "The Ways of a Witch Hunter" by Matthew Hopkins as he saw him reading it regularly, with Philip engrossed in every word written on the pages.

"..."

Caleb briefly chuckled due to the silence. "What? Don't believe me? Have a look for yourself."

The room door slowly opened, and Philip poked his head out to see his brother happily holding a flyer with a picture of his hero and the title of his latest book.

Blue eyes immediately sparkled at the paper, and before you know it, Philip soon shuts the door.

Caleb laughed, knowing that his brother was getting ready. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs, Pip."

...

Philip couldn't contain his excitement as he and Caleb walked through town to the library.

The brunette was practically buzzing with joy at the thought of getting to meet the man he looked up to.

'Maybe if I share my knowledge of witch hunting with Mr. Hopkins, he might offer me an apprenticeship!'

Philip squealed in his mind as he and Caleb arrived at a long line that began outside and led inside the library.

The queue of people was lively, as everyone was eager to have their book copies autographed by Gravesfield's handsomest hero.

...

As the line slowly progressed forward, Caleb became more and more exhausted with every hour that passed, but Philip remained cheerful and held onto his book tightly with anticipation.

...

"Look, Caleb!" Philip directs his finger at Matthew Hopkins' author table.

He and Caleb were now inside the library, waiting in the center of the line.

"We're almost at the front!"

Matthew was occupied with writing his initials on the title page of his book for a woman who was clearly captivated by him, her eyes glistening with love.

He gave her a suave wink after he finished and returned her book, and she nearly fainted from his charm.

Next in line to have their book signed was a man grinning ear to ear as he handed his book to Matthew.

Hopkins proceeded to open the book to the title page and placed the nib of his pen on the page.

Upon starting to write, he stopped as soon as he noticed the scratchy, hard-to-see texture of his lines.

"Hmm," he quietly hummed. "It seems my pen's run out of--"

The profound number of hands reaching out to Matthew with spare pens as soon as he said that startled him.

He soon smirked. "Ink," he finished, giving his hair a good toss.

The witch finder general gladly took a pen from the nearest hand, which caused the crowd of fans to roar and squeal with fanatic cheers.

As soon as Matthew started signing, we are greeted with a freeze frame of him in an art nouveau style, complete with fun facts about him.

Name: Matthew Hopkins

Age: 24

Status: Gravesfield's greatest witch (hunter???) (finder???) general.

Capabilities: Is able to detect the Devil's mark on a witch a mile away (or so he says).

His best assets: You take a wild guess.

...

"... Huh? Oh, yeah, we are," an absent-minded Caleb acknowledged his brother's comment as his eyes were glued to the wooden lantern clock on the wall.

'She'll be arriving at the house soon...,' Caleb thought to himself as the clock struck three.

He gazed at Philip.

"Uh, Pip, you'll have to excuse me, I need to use the bathroom."

Caleb tried his best not to look like he was lying.

"But, Caleb--"

"Don't worry, I'll be back soon!" The oldest assured as he stepped out of line and quickly headed out of the main entrance of the library without delay.

Philip narrowed his eyes at Caleb as he left but decided to take his word that he would indeed return.

After all, the oldest had no reason to abandon his younger brother in line and suddenly go somewhere else.

That's not like him at all, Philip believed.

...

After another hour and so of waiting in line, it was finally Philip's turn to approach Matthew Hopkins' table.

An overly conceited smile crossed Hopkins' lips upon seeing the exuberant teen dash to his table.

The youth's admiration of his greatness brought him joy.

"GoodafternoonMr.HopkinsmynameisPhilipWittebanewouldyoupleasepleasePLEASEsignmybook?"

The bright-eyed boy spoke at such a rapid pace, which made Matthew let out a small, lighthearted laugh.

"I don't see why not," Hopkins said as he took the handed book and opened it to the title page.

As he began to sign his initials, Philip's grin glowed as he screeched heavily with excitement in his head.

"You said your name was Philip, correct?"

"Yes!"

"I see. Doesn't that mean--?"

"Lover of horses? Yes!"

"I see."

After Hopkins was finished, he gave the book back to Philip.

"I'm too busy doing God's work, so I'm not much of an artist," he admitted with a chuckle.

Upon opening his book, Philip noticed a poorly drawn stick figure horse drawing next to Matthew's initials.

With a gasp, the brunette squeezed his book with affection, swaying back and forth.

"That's okay, I love your drawing! I'll treasure it forever! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, so much, Mr. Hopkins! I hope to be as great a witch hunter as you when I'm your age."

Matthew chuckled cockily. "Well, you'll never be as great as I am, but there's always room for second best."

"Second best," Philip repeated in wonderment, imagining himself as such. "I'll aspire to be that then! Thank you so much!"

...

After the book signing event came to an end, Philip was walking through the woods as the vibrant orange sun was starting to set.

He breathed out a small huff, clearly cross, as his boots crunched down on the autumn leaves that dressed the soil.

As upset as the brunette was at Caleb's dishonesty and departure, at least he got the chance to interact with his favorite hero.

Nonetheless, he was still angry.

After some thought, he decided that he would give his brother the silent treatment as soon as he got home.

...

After reaching his front door, Philip opened it and stepped inside.

Upon hearing bubbly giggles coming from the kitchen, he paused.

Philip then frowned.

'Looks like he brought a girl home,' the brunette thought to himself as he sighed, shutting the door.

That must be the reason why he left him alone in line.

After muttering a not-so-nice insult under his breath, Philip proceeded to the kitchen.

Upon arriving at the entrance, Philip instantly froze as he watched the shocking scene taking place in front of him, his book falling from his grasp.

He was soon struck by a wave of terror as he covered his mouth.

"... I picked this pumpkin a few days ago, so might as well use it before it goes bad, right?" Caleb chuckled fondly as he was preparing pumpkin soup with a girl who looked to be around his age.

However, this was no ordinary girl.

She wore a scarlet colored cloak with a hood that she had on while a black bird was nesting inside on her head.

The teen's dress looked like something an otherworldly explorer would wear, and while the length of her auburn hair was unknown due to her hood, she had fluffy bangs that covered the entirety of her eyes.

Her demonically pale skin, golden eyes, pointed ears, canine teeth, and exposed ankles led Philip to clench his fists.

"Witch!" he shouts before charging at the girl to attack her, only for Caleb to take notice and quickly intervene.

"Whoa, Philip, wait! No fighting in the house!" Caleb informed, extending his arm out to prevent Philip from harming the girl.

He glanced at the girl and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. This was the little brother I was telling you about."

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SAYING ABOUT ME TO HER!" Philip demanded with a growl.

Caleb rolled his eyes, causing the girl to giggle. "His name is Philip. And Philip, this is ******."

"******?!" A shocked Philip repeated. "That's no human name!"

"******!" ****** beamed out her own name in utter delight as we get a freeze frame of her in an art nouveau style with character information about her.

Name: ****** ****** ******

Age: 17

Species: Witch

Adores: Palismen and making weird noises

Crimes: Arson

"She's a really good friend of mine."

"FRIEND?!"

"We've been seeing each other for quite some time now."

"FOR SOME TIME NOW?!"

"Mostly when you're either asleep or away."

A happy, hawk-like screech escapes ****** as she waves at Philip, but the brunette refuses to wave back and shoots a glare at Caleb.

"What are you doing?! Stop smiling at her and kill her already!" Philip ordered loudly.

Caleb rolled his eyes a second time.

Philip bared his teeth.

"If you don't do something about her, I'll let the town minister know that you've been seeing a witch this entire time! You know that's a sin!"

When Philip noticed the worried expression on ******'s face when the minister was mentioned, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Oh, yeah?" Caleb began, crossing his arms as he smiled serenely but threateningly.

"Since we're on the topic of sin, I'm certain that Mr. Town Minister would be very interested to see those inaccurate drawings of Christ in your journal. You know, the ones where you give him massive muscles and chest hair."

Philip's face flushed immediately, and he scowled. "Fine, I won't tell then!" he shouted with a stomp of his foot. "... AND STOP GOING INTO MY JOURNAL!"

Caleb chuckled.

Knowing that she would be safe and far away from the minister's clutches, ****** screeches happily as she hugs Caleb.

During their hug, Philip rolls his eyes and grumbles bitterly under his breath, but soon notices the expression his brother sends him as ******'s back is turned.

Caleb was smirking at him as he winked.

He then proceeded to put a finger on his lips.

Philip's eyes widened in sudden understanding, his smirk even darker than Caleb's as he nodded.

'Heh, their friendship isn't genuine. Caleb definitely has a trick up his sleeve,' Philip chuckled darkly in his thoughts.

...

As ****** carefully ladled servings of pumpkin soup into bowls and placed thick slices of bread on small plates, she failed to notice the two shadows looming over her with eerie smiles... until she finally did and turned around.

She smiles when she sees that it's just her two friends, Caleb and Philip Wittebane, who were both smiling affectionately at her.

Knowing that she would be sharing supper with them brought her immense joy.

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nebulatrifid · 7 days ago

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My analysis of Viktor and Sky in Arcane:

I do think Viktor and Sky were acquaintances however they weren't really close. You see this in the flashback where Viktor is playing with his boat as a child. Sky looks down at him but doesn't join him, and instead goes to play with other kids. They did grow up together though, knew each other, but essentially have the same relationship you do with the other people in your highschool graduating class.

This relationship is still something though and is why Viktor helped Sky get a job as his lab assistant. Viktor is definitely portrayed as an introvert in the show and while he probably made small talk with Sky, said hello, asked how her day was going, ect, their relationship was never anything more than coworkers. This is reinforced by him referring to her as "Ms. Young" rather than Sky. During the Progress Day Presentation, Sky also walks in with Jayce but doesn't say anything to Viktor.

After her death, Viktor feels upset and rightfully so. He is the reason she is dead. Viktor is a human being and any human would feel incredibly guilty about what happened. He does take the time to read over her notes and realized firstly that Sky thought they were a lot closer than he did. This makes Viktor feel even more guilty because they worked together for seven years, he should have made more of an effort to get to know her, but he didn't. Viktor also realizes that him and Sky would have gotten along if he knew her better, and maybe even sees part of himself in her (he didn't want to spend the rest of his life as an assistant, Sky probably didn't either).

After leaving Jayce and becoming Jesus, either Viktor or the Arcane creates the version of Sky we see in Act 2 to help him process his grief. The Sky we see is shown to be forgiving of Viktor and supportive of his actions. Their conversations are based on Viktor's perception of her from her notes, and I do think the Arcane also influences this hallucination to guide Viktor along. This is supported by Sky telling Viktor he shouldn't try and heal Vander. She also seems to be assuring Viktor that what he is doing is correct.

In order for Viktor to fully evolve though, he needs to get rid of his humanity. This involves releasing the version of Sky he created since she existed to help him process his guilt. When she says "no you won't" she is reminding Viktor that she is a creation of his human emotions, and that she wasn't the real Sky. Viktor won't miss her because she was talking to himself.

Finally, there are a lot of mirrors in Arcane. If Viktor and Sky weren't close, Sky probably invented a version of Viktor that she fell in love with. Viktor then later created a version of her that he became friends with. I don't think Viktor has any romantic feelings for Sky (this is kind of confirmed by the show creators).

Anyways yeah that's my theory. I feel like Arcane left a lot unsaid and this kind of strings together a lot of the loose threads with Viktor and Sky's character. I wish we got to see more of Sky, but she hardly had any screen time. I also wish we got more of an explanation as to what the purpose of her season 2 character was. I kept expecting them to do some big reveal but she kind of just disappeared and nothing more was said. I personally don't think season 2 Sky was the real Sky, her character just didn't seem consistent with how she acted in season 1.

#arcane spoilers #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane season 2 #jayce talis #viktor arcane #arcane hc #jayce arcane #jayvik #sky young #sky arcane

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witchesroad · 2 months ago

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hi!! idk if you've said it before but, do u have any jossam hcs?? i love them sm, hope u are doing okay!!

hi, thanks for the ask!! here are 5 of my favorite josh & sam headcanons <3

they had their first kiss at sam’s halloween party in 2013. they had been plenty flirty before then, but once josh saw her in that lara croft costume, all self-restraint went out the window. he dragged her into the backyard when all the others were distracted by some party game and pushed her up against the wall and finally kissed her like he might die if he didn’t. that’s why josh kept the invitation for so many years and even shared it in his sessions with dr. hill. it reminds him of that night and of sam.

josh fell in love with sam way before she fell in love with him, but she was the first to say it out loud. there’s nothing josh hates more than the idea of dragging sam into his shit. she’s too smart, too warm, too out of his league; it’s not fair that she should have to take care of him. he avoids and denies his true feelings in some self-righteous attempt to spare her from his misery. of course, sam loves him anyway and he’s helpless to deny her when she finally tells him all the things he’s wanted to say to her since they were thirteen and fourteen.

hannah and beth were painfully aware of how they felt about each other, by the way. hannah secretly thought it would be romantic if they got married someday and sam became her sister-in-law. beth just hoped that sam’s good influence would make josh marginally less annoying. both were happy to see him smile so much more than he had in recent years.

sam teaches josh how to climb and josh teaches sam how to play guitar. he’s naturally athletic so he doesn’t struggle (that much) to keep up with her. she brings him back out into the world and reminds him of why it’s nice to be alive.

epilogue to the new endings: more than a year after that night, josh is out of the psychiatric facility and he’s relatively stable. he’s taking the right medications now and they put a stop to his delusions. he and his new therapist put together an 8-step plan to make amends with everyone he terrorized at the lodge. they started off with the one that frightened him most: sam. it took him an entire year to build up the nerve to reach out to her. he half expected her to send him straight to voicemail and he forgot what little mastery he had over the english language when she actually answered, josh? a lot can change in a year. he knew that well. sam was hardened now after surviving what they did on that mountain. but the version of her in his memory had done her no justice; she was so much more beautiful than he remembered. he was shocked at just how little his feelings changed even though everything else about him had. they talked for hours, which quickly turned into days, and he explained and answered and apologized until his throat was hoarse. she knew it wasn’t his fault and that his illness was beyond his control. he still wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life making it up to her. there was always a connection. he just lost sight of it for a while.

#until dawn #josh washington #sam giddings #jossam #headcanons #asks

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mayullla · 11 months ago

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Hi! Can I request cyno 🍁+🦋 please?

Title: Friendship Chocolates

Character(s): Cyno (Genshin Impact) Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, stalking, unrequited pining, jealousy, Cyno watching you sleep, soft yandere Cyno, 1k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

Is... is this for me?" Cyno asked, staring at the chocolates in front of him. An open bag of chocolates was in his hand, which he had opened when you placed it in his hands, telling him that it was for him.

"Yes, it is for you, silly," you laughed at his surprised face, blinking at it as if he expected it to just vanish from his hand. "I made them with Lisa, actually. Me and her wanted to try making chocolates ourselves, and it was surprisingly easy. We made a ton of them, and I am planning to pass them to all our friends." You looked away, listing names in your head that you wanted to give, not seeing Cyno's reaction as he froze for just a moment.

He was quiet for a moment, and you assumed that he was listening when he cut you off. "They... they are good." You looked at him, about to complain that he cut you off, but when you saw his face looking at the chocolate with a little bit of surprise and fondness, you could not help but smile a little. The chocolates were bite-size, some were just chocolate while others were chocolate-coated nuts and berries. You also got a few biscuits (not enough time to make them from scratch) and coated them with it.

"I am glad you like them," you told him, thinking to yourself that you should have given him a bit more if he liked them this much. "If you want more, just tell me, alright? Me and Lisa made milk chocolate and dark chocolate versions, so drop by my place if you want to grab some more." Telling Cyno that you were going to head out, you said a quick goodbye and left him to himself as he looked at the chocolates.

You had been a little bit worried, to be honest, that the chocolate would have melted under the sun and made sure to pack them well in your bag with an ice pack to keep it somewhat cool. Layla had been kind enough to make a small ice shield on your back to keep the heat out when you met her.

As the sun went down, you finally reached your home, placing your now empty bag of chocolate down. What was left was your study books in another section, while you had already gotten rid of the watered-down ice pack in the middle of the day. Stretching as you thought about the day, quite happy with the reactions your friends gave you when you gave them the chocolates. You felt happy to give, and while none of them were romantic, you wanted to give your friends a little something for the day.

It was fun making the chocolate with Lisa from scratch. Stretching and yawning, tired from the day, you started to get ready for dinner after doing a bit of house organizing and cleaning. After that, you were ready for bed. Tired, darkness quickly took you away into a deep sleep, unknown to you, someone was standing and guarding your house on top of a tree branch.

Cyno watched you sleep, even from far away, he felt as if he was so close to you. So close that he could hear your breathing and watch as your chest moved up and down, slowly breathing as if indicating your sleep. Unlike you, who found today to be relatively nice, Cyno had mixed feelings towards today. He still could feel his heart beating in his chest when you gave him those chocolates.

For a moment, he thought that you were confessing to him, admitting that you loved him just as much as he loved you. Yet those thoughts were quickly dashed when you mentioned that you were giving chocolate to all your friends. He felt heartbroken and almost betrayed, but then he fell in love with you again when he saw how excited you were as you chatted about making the chocolate with Lisa. In his eyes, you were lovely... so lovely.

He quickly headed to Lisa when you left, demanding to know why she didn't tell him that you and she were making chocolates. "I can't invite a boy all of a sudden when it's a girls' time, don't you think so?" Lisa teased him, laughing when she heard about what happened between you and Cyno. "That girl is so cute, having the famed Cyno wrapped around her finger yet none the wiser. How many could do that? Probably only enough to count on one hand."

Lisa laughed again as she watched Cyno huff in annoyance. "You are also quite adorable, so in love to the point that you would follow her wherever she goes. I heard that you beat up those men who tried to hit on her a few days ago. Does she know about it?"

"I wonder how she would react if she found out what you are really like. That matter is rather tame compared to the other things that you have done. Be careful, dear, with that little obsession you have there. Only one misstep and it's over for your cute little relationship."

Cyno knew that. He had known for a long time that he was so in love with you to the point of insanity. He wanted to protect you, he wanted to hold you. He craved your touch and his hand on yours. There were days when he just could not bear it and wanted nothing more than to take you away for himself.

The many things that he was willing to do just for you... there were already too many that he did. Too many to count. He was willing to do anything for you, willing to do anything to protect you. All the dark thoughts, he hid them, and all the gruesome things he had done just for you, he hid everything.

He loved you so much that he would do anything.

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blossoming-mind-palace · 4 months ago

Text

Chung Myung x Fem! Reader: 100 Years and a Promise (SFW/Part 4/Finale)

Summary: You’re both used to your new life. A few years have passed and things are comfortable. This part has a sillier vibe than the last. It’s also the last SFW part I’m writing.

Contains: Fem! Reader, Alcohol mention (thanks Chung Myung), hangovers, Chung Myung being jealous, Jo Gul getting bullied because Chung Myung is jealous (sorry Jo Gul), a Chung Myung POV I’m not very proud of but it’s there

WC: 5,184

Chung Myung feels warm sunlight hit his eyelids as he begins to stir. His head is pounding thanks to last night’s activities, and the grogginess is not helping. A faint snoring hits his eardrums, but it takes him a moment to realize they were too soft to be his. He jolts up when he realizes that someone else is in his room.

He tries to look around, but not too fast to avoid vomiting. It feels like someone is holding his hand, so he looks down to investigate and finds you lying on the side of his bed. It looks as if you fell asleep while sitting on his bedroom floor, and he can’t imagine that sleeping like that is comfortable.

You feel someone nudging your cheek, and when you wake up there’s a creek in your neck and a slight headache. My headache can’t be as bad as Chung Myung’s considering how much he drank, you think, and look up to see him staring at you. “Oh, good morning,” you say softly. You're assuming he has a hangover, and you don't want to make it worse by speaking too loud.

“Morning,” he replies and immediately follows it with a yawn. You notice that one hand covers his mouth, but the other is preoccupied with holding yours. You must’ve fallen asleep while holding hands, how scandalous! Imagine if someone walked in on you two. Your peers wouldn't let you live that down for years.

“Chung Myung, can you let go of me, please?” you ask after a futile attempt to retrieve your hand. “Do I have to?” “Yes, because you need to burn off that alcohol and take a bath, stinky,” you say and get up from your uncomfortable spot. “I’ll go draw a bath for you while you get rid of your hangover, m’kay?” You tell him this so he’ll let go, and he does. You run off to heat up some water for the wooden tub, and Chung Myung is left alone with his own thoughts.

- Chung Myung’s POV

“I’ll go draw a bath for you while you get rid of your hangover, m’kay?” is what (y/n) said before she left the room. After taking care of my hangover, my mind is still plagued by her. No matter how hard I try I cannot stop thinking about her and the way she glows in the moonlight. I’m not entirely sure if that beautiful scene from last night was real or a dream, and if it was a dream, I’m upset that I woke up from it.

She looked divine, but did she always look like that? Even a hundred years ago? I'm a fool for not realizing this sooner. I also can’t help but wonder if she’s always been so soft and caring towards me. I suppose she was when I wasn’t causing trouble and trying to start fights. She’s always made sure I’ve eaten, patched me up, and has helped me achieve my goals.

Just thinking about her makes my chest feel warm, and I can’t figure out why I constantly feel the need to hold her. It’s as if she’s holding a magnet that’s constantly pulling me towards her… Is this what romantic love feels like?

Everytime I look back on my previous life, I’m certain there’s a familial love I feel towards people like Chung Mung, but this is different. This is a new uncharted territory, and it makes me feel anxious. It’s not a bad version of anxiety; it’s hard to explain. These feelings are complicated and I really wish it didn’t take me this long to notice them. Life would be easier if I knew what to do next, but I don’t even know if she feels the same.

Knock knock! “Chung Myung, I’m coming in!” I hear her yell. Think of the woman and she shall appear. She walks in and continues,” It’s hot and ready, so hurry before it gets cold.” “(y/n), can I ask you something?” I ask. After last night and realizing my feelings, something has been bothering me.

She mentioned something about starting a family back in the day, and that she already had someone in mind. Obviously that never happened, but the thought of her loving someone else upsets me. She loved this person, but I never heard anything else about him. I never even noticed anyone getting that close to her, so whoever it was, he wasn’t very public with his feelings. Could this mean he didn’t care about her? Did he even love her in the first place? I’m probably overthinking things, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask her about him.

I feel the mattress dip while she sits beside me, and the curious expression on her face makes my heart beat faster. Since when was her expressions so cute!? She’s pulling such an adorable face, and the fact that I can’t pull her towards me and mash my lips on hers is killing me!

My face is definitely beet red, and I know that she’s noticed because she asks,” Are you feverish again? I thought you were getting rid of your hangover? I’d rather talk to you when you have a clear mind-” “I did! It’s clear enough! Now, let me ask you something,” I say. I can’t help but anticipate her answer; I’ve waited over one-hundred years to find out who this man is. I’m going to be pissed if it turns out he was an asshole towards her.

- Reader’s POV

“Remember the promise you made to me?” he asks, and you shake your head. You’re lying of course; you didn’t expect him to remember such a thing! “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve made a lot of those over the past hundred-and-something years, so you’re gonna have to clarify,” you reply while twirling your hair around, and it suddenly feels like eye contact is more intimidating than any war you’ve fought in.

“You promised me you’d tell me who you loved before the war ended. It’s ended, so now you have to tell me!” He clears the air and his face is filled with anticipation. “O-Oh! I don’t remember that-” “Bullshit! You made a pinky promise, too, so you HAVE to answer the question!”

Oh, I fucked up. You think, because you actually have to answer his question now. There’s no backing out of something as serious as a pinky promise. You try your best to create a lie but struggle to come up with anything. You decided that giving vague answers would be your best bet.

“He was tall, dark and handsome,” you reply with a falsely confident smirk plastered on your face. He raises an eyebrow,” Tall, dark and handsome?” “Mhm!” “That is painfully vague, (y/n). That description matches almost everyone in the sect,” he points out. His expression looks genuinely upset and he’s not playing around like all those years ago. He continues,” How long are you going to keep this from me? At this point, I’d assume he was never real in the first place. You’d never do something like that, though. Right?”

You look down at your palms and notice that they’re starting to sweat. You stare at the floor like it’s infinitely more interesting than your conversation, because you’re trying your best to avoid what’s about to happen. You really don’t want to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth. It'll be painfully awkward, but it looks like that might happen soon.

”Right, (y/n)?” He asks, and there’s an awkward silence that fills the air afterwards. “Dammit, (y/n), please tell me you didn’t lie about that…” “Okay, so here’s the thing. The part about wanting to settle down was genuine, but I couldn’t find a bachelor I liked. When I finally did, the crush was one-sided.”

”When you kept pestering me about who it was, I panicked and didn’t know what to say. Back then, I didn’t want to look lame in front of you, so I told you it was a secret!” You blurt out. You release a sigh to loosen up the tightness in your chest caused by all of this stress and continue,” I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to lie and lead you on like that. Honestly, I thought you would have forgotten by now. That was over a hundred years ago, but you still remembered that little promise we made.”

“Of course I did. I didn’t know how to show it or realize how much I cared about you back then. When you died, I tried to cherish every memory you left behind,” he answers while rubbing the back of his neck. Talking about your death upsets him, and he’s trying his best to not show it. The mattress dips as you sit beside him. “Aw, Chung Myung, that’s so sweet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve gotten soft since then,” you elbow him while you tease him in hopes that it lightens the mood.

Your teasing certainly gets a reaction out of him as he retorts,” No, I have not!” His arms cross while he continues,” Anyways, back to you. So you did all of that because you were awkward and couldn’t pull anyone. Instead of looking like a loser in front of your friend, you lied and kept that secret for over a hundred years.” “I mean, yeah, most of that is true. Except for the awkward part. I was hot and I could’ve pulled anyone I wanted!” “Except for the guy you had a crush on,” he points out.

You frown, because that guy was technically him and him pointing that out stings. You quickly recover from this, though. You’ve had this unrequited love for years, so hiding your true feelings is as easy as breathing. You chuckle and reply,” Yeah, except him.”

”Seeing how upset you are makes me regret everything. I should be more upfront with stuff like that, and I’m sorry for keeping that from you. It was wrong of me to do that,” your gaze looks serious while you apologize. You grab his hand while you continue,” I swear I’ll never do something like that again.” You notice his cheeks turn red, maybe from anger? Who knows. Chung Myung’s mind is hard to read and he’s unpredictable. That’s why you enjoy his company so much. He keeps you on your toes.

He lets out a long sigh,” You swear it?” “I swear it.” “Well then I’ll accept your apology, but make sure you stay true to your word. They hold no weight if you don’t practice what you preach,” he says, and you couldn’t agree more. After finally getting all of that out, you feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“It’s settled, then,” you say as you get up and hold your hand out to him. “The bath water has probably gotten cold by now, but you still need to clean up.” “Yeah, yeah,” he says as he takes your hand and gets off of his bed. “You still stink like alcohol,” you comment. It’s not overbearing, but it’s not what an honorable disciple of Mount Hua should smell like.

”I do not!” “You do, stinky.”

After that morning, you noticed Chung Myung started acting differently. Anytime you’d hand him something his fingers would ghost over yours. When you walked side by side, he’d walk so close that your hands would brush together. Any bystander would think you two were about to start holding hands.

He’s also been weirdly aggressive towards some of the disciples. Well, he’s always been like that, but lately it’s increased ten fold towards disciples that are “suspiciously friendly” towards you. That’s what he said when you asked him about his attitude, and you just assumed he was being extra protective since you two were old friends.

You’ve overheard disciples gossiping about you two. They say that you guys act like a couple, and you’re secretly in a relationship. That last part is kind of dumb in your opinion. Dating is technically allowed so hiding it makes no sense, and even if it wasn’t, Chung Myung isn’t afraid to break the rules. He already drinks like someone who’s about to have their limbs amputated, so a petty rule like that is nothing to him.

While walking to the dining hall, you overhear a group of younger disciples actually talk about who’s dating who, and you think you heard them drop your name and Jo Gul's. You decide to ignore it and mind your business; there’s no need to ruin your day with something like that. You have something more important to concentrate on, anyway, and that’s dinner.

When you enter the dining hall, the fragrance coming from the rich meats and spices fills your senses. Your stomach starts to growl; the roasted meat on the table is the only thing you can think about right now. Never mind the gossiping disciples from earlier, food is ten times more important than the nonsense they spat!

You make your way over to your usual spot, and Jo Gul and Yunjong are already there. When you sit down, your mouth starts to water at the sight of beef glistening in a spicy sauce, roasted vegetables, fluffy white rice, and crispy chicken. Your stomach growls at the exquisitely appetizing scene in front of you, and you waste no time in grabbing a plate and filling it to the brim.

“(Y/N), don’t steal all of the food! Save some for the rest of us! I’m begging you!” Jo Gul playfully wines while giving you puppy eyes. You roll your own eyes at him,”Of course I’m not going to eat everything, Jo Gul… Or will I?” You snicker at him, and he’s acting overly dramatic as he makes a devastated face at your response.

”Just kidding!” You laugh at him. “Here, have a bite!” You say as you toss a chunk of meat at him. He flawlessly catches it in his mouth, and can’t help but smile while he chews it. The flavors are so divine it’d put a smile on anyone’s face.

You hear someone’s foot steps approach you from behind, but you pay them no attention as you grab another piece of meat between your fingers. “One more time! Say ‘Ahhhh’!” You tell Jo Gul while you aim. He starts to open his mouth, but closes his lips when he looks over your shoulder. He is visibly nervous when he makes eye contact with the person behind you.

Yunjong, whose lips were originally smiling during your guys’ exchange, have now turned down slightly. Your eyes follow theirs, and they land on Chung Myung. He looks intimidating while he towers over you. Well, intimidating to other disciples, but not to you. You’re used to his pissy face at this point. It has its own unique charm.

”Chung Myung, it’s about time you joined us!” You chime in, and he finally stops glaring daggers at poor Jo Gul. His attention snaps to you and his gaze softens. The expression he makes towards you is so tender, and it brings a sentimental warmth to your chest. It reminds you of how grateful you are that you two are here living with each other again.

”Here, sit beside me!” You say while patting on the chair beside you. He follows suit, but gives Jo Gul the side eye before filling up his plate. Did something happen between them? You think, but brush it off. There’s no need to pry into that right now. If you bring it up, Chung Myung might get pissed at him again and raise hell. Everyone’s happy because we’re surrounded by food; better not change that.

Except the mood did change unwillingly. Even as he ate, you could still see that there was something wrong with Chung Myung and Jo Gul looked terrified. There was an awkward silence that felt like it droned on forever until Jo Gul decided to do something about it. ”So, (Y/N), the weathers been good, right? Lots of… Sun…” the poor guy tried so hard to break the uncomfortable silence. He stopped the silence, but the atmosphere was still awkward.

“Jeez, that’s how you’re going to start this conversation? I don’t mean to judge, but… Nevermind, I’m judging,” You reply to him. You swear you saw Chung Myung smirk out of the corner of your eye. “What’s so funny, Chung Myung?” You turn and ask him. Something clearly happened between the two of them, and they're starting to make this evening unbearable.

”It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he replies while digging into his food. It's your turn to give him a side eye, but you decide to ignore him and redirect your attention to your meal. After eating in peace for a couple of minutes, you see something fly out of the corner of your eye. You tried to mind your business, but the second time you snapped your head in the direction it landed.

Poor Jo Gul got smacked in the face with a smidge of sauce. You notice that there’s another glob heading towards him, so you catch it mid-air with a napkin. Your eyes follow the direction it came from, and notice that Chung Myung is looking really suspicious.

“Chung Myung, did you throw this?” You ask and stare him down. His eyes refuse to meet yours while he replies,”Me? No, that’s wasting food. I’d never!” He cracks a smile. “You’re a terrible liar,” you say, and a small piece of chicken hits him on the cheek. He glares at the culprit, and this time it’s Jo Gul that's on the attack.

“Are you stupid!?” Yunjong blurts out at Jo Gul. It looks like someone will have to plan his funeral later. Immediately after Yunjong’s outburst you watch Chung Myung throw a large piece of chicken at Jo Gul, and a food fight is definitely going to break out if you don’t stop this.

You decide not to, because this is the most entertaining thing you’ve seen all week. Thanks to Jo Gul’s terrible aim, someone that was sitting at the table behind us got involved. Everything escalates quickly, and there’s a food war breaking out in the lunch hall.

It’s chaos. They somehow even got Yunjong involved, which surprised you. He’s so quiet and seems like a goody two shoes, but here he is slinging handfuls of rice like it’s no one’s business. You feel something sticky hit the side of your head, and now there’s sauce stuck in your hair. Time to get involved!

You shoot out of your chair and fling your food at your attacker. It was Jo Gul, and it smacks him in the face. He’s covered in what was going to be your leftovers and you can’t help but laugh at the sour expression on his face.

Chung Myung takes this opportunity to grab an entire chicken, stuffs one of the legs in his mouth, and chucks it at Jo Gul’s head. The poor guy tries to hit it before it lands on his face, but fails. The force of this chicken actually knocks him off of his feet, and his butt smacks on the hardwood floor.

Chung Myung starts walking towards Jo Gul with a chair, and you grab him by the waist to make him stop. “Jeez, at least let him get up! And what’s with the chair? That’s too far!” You yell at him. “Mmmph!” Is all you hear while you grab at his arms. He looks annoyed at your sad attempts to stop him, but you eventually rip the chair out of his arms. If you weren’t there, Jo Gul definitely would’ve gained another head injury thanks to Chung Myung.

While you sit the chair down and scold Chung Myung, you hear a slam coming from the entrance and everyone halts. ”What’s going on!?” You hear one of the elders yell. You’re all fucked.

“Man, I’m beat!” You sighed while walking to your room. You tried your best to get you and your friends out of punishment, but it backfired. They made you mop AND wash the dishes. Chung Myung didn’t have to help you with the dishes, he didn’t even get punished, but he still helped you anyway. That was sweet of him. You think as you walk side-by-side.

You finally got to bathe after all of that, and you can’t wait to go to bed. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” He suddenly asks. “What do you mean?” “Our life right now,” he clarifies. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, the last one was nice and I miss it sometimes, but this current one is good, too. We get to be young again and have fun. It’s especially fun since you’re here,” you reply while elbowing him.

He’s giving you another one of those tender smiles, and his eyes soften. You’re ridiculously pretty in this life, too. You think to yourself. “I think these new disciples have grown on me, too,” you add. “Maybe a bit too much,” you heard Chung Myung say that under his breath.

“Oh? Afraid I’ll replace you with one of them?” You ask and Chung Myung stops dead in his tracks. You stand in front of him as you tease,” Are you getting jealous, Chung Myung?” “Yes.”

You stare at him for a solid second. You did not expect him to say that. You’ve known him for well over a hundred years and couldn’t predict that he’d say something like that. “Wait, you’re actually jealous?” “Mhm.” “Of who exactly? Is there someone specific, or are you jealous of every person that interacts with me?” You ask him.

He grabs both of your hands and asks,”Do you like Jo Gul?” He looks anxious while he’s waiting for your reply. “I guess he’s nice,” you reply. “Why do you ask?” “I heard someone say you two were sneaking off in the middle of the night and planned on eloping,” he says while crossing his arms.

“Heh… Heheheh-“ you let go and break out in giggles, but you’re quickly interrupted by your friend. “Stop laughing!” He snaps, and you hold your stomach while you try your best to stop laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Hah, I just can’t believe you actually thought I was talking to him like that-“ “I didn’t say that I believed it!” His cheeks are starting to turn red from embarrassment.

”Good, because none of it’s true,” You say and start walking towards your bedroom again. He catches up to you, and you feel his hand brush against yours. Should I hold his hand or not? I mean, he did grab mine earlier… You think, and after going back and forth a couple of times you decide to take that risk.

You grab his hand, and he doesn’t pull away. A small smile cracks on your face, but you’re too nervous to look up at him. You don't know if you should let go or not when you both get near your bedroom door. The both of you finally stop, and when you try to pull away Chung Myung keeps holding on to you. It's like last night all over again.

“This is my stop-” “What if I liked you like that?” His eyes look dead serious, and judging by his tone you know he's not joking right now. “W-What?” You asked hesitantly. He takes a step closer to you and doubles down on what he was saying,” What if I liked- no, loved you enough to sneak off with you? What if I loved you enough to secretly elope with you during the night?”

”You’re not drunk right now, are you?” “No!” He replies with desperation in his tone. You nervously swallow your spit, because this isn’t real, right? This has to be a dream. Your crush, who you’ve loved and waited for for over one hundred years, is trying to confess to you. It sounds too good to be true!

Your heart feels like it’s going over a hundred beats per minute right, and you look down at your hands that are still interlocked together. You pull his hands closer to your chest and look back into his eyes. “Chung Myung, if this is a joke, it’s a really cruel one.” “It’s not, I’m asking a genuine question!” After his response, you inhale and exhale deeply in an attempt to calm your nerves. It doesn’t help much, and you can already feel your cheeks heating up.

”Don’t laugh at what I’m about to say,” you tell him, and pray that you won’t cringe at this moment in the near future. He looks slightly confused, but you continue before he can say anything. It’s now or never. “That would make me the happiest woman in the world,” you reply to his question and he holds your hands a little tighter.

His lips start turning upwards into the cheesy grin you've always loved. “Do you know how long I've waited for this, (y/n)?” “I don't know, since you started getting jealous of Jo Gul?” “I was not!” He groans at your response. “I've been waiting for over a hundred years, you know,” you tell him and his eyes widen.

“Over a hundred?” He asks with his mouth agape. “Mhm.” “... You were talking about me back then, weren't you?” He asks. He really hit the nail on the head, huh? It only took him over a century to realize that.

You wrap his hands around your waist, and he doesn't budge when you get closer to him. At this point you guys are so close that your chests are touching. You wrap your arms around his neck, and with a sudden burst of confidence, admit,” Well, you are tall, dark, and handsome, aren't you?”

His eyes widen slightly and his cheeks redden at your sudden boldness. His flusteredness makes it clear that he didn't expect this, and the current look on his face is adorable. It's the kind of face you'd want to grab and plant kisses all over. Maybe I should… you think while sitting in silence for a couple of seconds.

You haven't seen Chung Myung be this nervous in years. His tan lips suddenly part as he tries to break the silence,” Can I…” “Can you what? Use your words,” you tell him while keeping your eyes on his lips. His gaze follows yours, and what you want is obvious.

“Can I please kiss you?” He asked with bated breath. “Of course,” you reply and he hesitantly closes the space between you. When your lips finally met, it was sloppy. You're an elder who’s never kissed anyone, and judging by his movements Chung Myung is in the same boat. You two probably look pathetic right now, but oh well. You're literally living your dream right now, so you could care less.

When your lips part, he grabs your face and tries to go in again. This time it's more sporadic and heated, and your hands start to roam his chest. He acts like he's been starved for weeks and is finally digging into his favorite food. You try your best to match his hungry pace.

When you part a second time you’re both out of breath, and this love feels electrifying. His eyes are unfocused while you grab his face and start planting little pecks all over it. “I’ve- peck loved- peck you- peck for- peck so- peck fucking- peck long!” “Heheh, I can tell!” He says in between giggles.

All you feel right now is your love that’s accumulated over the years finally spilling out, and Chung Myung definitely isn’t complaining about it. You keep spoiling him, and he’s basking in all of the new attention he’s getting. If your love is water, he’s the sponge that’s soaking it up.

After a few more kisses, you pull away to get a good look at his face, and he’s smiling from ear-to-ear. Your face mirrors his, because after saying what was on your mind for ages, you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest. He continues holding you tightly, and for a moment all you do is lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It reminds you that you two are alive and the nightmares from your past life are long gone. You’ve yearned for his love for over a century, and you finally got it.

The silence is comfortable, and after you've had your fill of bear hugs you look up at Chung Myung. “How long have you loved me?” You asked him. “That's hard to answer,” he replies while running his hands up and down your back. You rest your chin on his chest while eagerly waiting for him to continue.

“There might've been something before you died, but it intensified after you left. Then, I found you again, and for the past few years it got stronger. I didn't realize what those feelings were until recently… I've never had romantic feelings before, y'know?” “Yeah, and you were never really pursued, either-” “What's that supposed to mean!? I had people all over me during my prime!” “You're lying and you know it; most people were terrified of you and your attitude! You only tolerated me and a handful of other people,” you confidently call out his bull shit.

You sigh and continue,”Regardless, I am over the moon now that we've been upfront with each other.” “Yeah, me too,” he replies. You pull away, but not without grabbing a hold of Chung Myung's hand. You turn to open your door and make your way in while dragging him in.

“What are you doing?” He asks while following you, and you close the door behind him. “Going to bed. Are you joining me or not?” You ask as you let go of him and plop on your bed. Not even a second passed and he's already thrown himself onto the mattress.

“Desperate, are we?” you tease as you finally get to lay down after such a long day. He hushes you, but never denies it as he pulls you into his chest. It's softer than you expected, and you prefer this over your old pillow.

“I love you,” you remind him and give him one last peck on the cheek before going to sleep. “I love you, too,” he adds and falls asleep not even a minute after his head hits the pillow. He snores like an old man, and while it would annoy most people, it's endearing to you. It's what you listen to as you drift off into a blissful slumber.

That was the best sleep you’ve had since you both reincarnated. There were no nightmares about your past or tears, just comfort while being in your lover’s arms. It's like he's your nightmare repellant, and you hope you're the same for him. You'll have to sleep with each other again.

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