#and why is this night keeps getting worse

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[glystenangel]

you up?

SoftBoyfriend!Sukuna x GN!Reader Oneshot (Modern AU)

summary: you and sukuna can't sleep w/o each other, in a cute way

tags/warnings: 18+ blog but this story is 100% fluff, established relationship, being clingy, calling each other baby, sukuna's highkeyyy a softie cutie baby boy, shortnsweet like sabrina carpenter

~1k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

You’ve been tossing and turning all night.

It was getting more and more difficult to sleep without Sukuna.

You hadn’t been dating for very long. Less than a year, but ever since you started sleeping over at his place, you can’t seem to sleep on your own.

Somehow, your bed feels empty. Worse, you feel alone.

“I want to see him.” You mutter to yourself, yawning into the heel of your palm before smoothing it over your cheek.

A few quiet moments pass, and you can hear your frustrated, sleepy breathing through the silence. Warm puffs of air breeze past your lips as crickets chirp outside of your window.

You worry at your bottom lip for a drawn out minute, indecision tugging at your brain.

Then, you remember that Sukuna had gifted you a key to his apartment last week.

“Happy six months. Come over anytime, babe.” He had said, placing a hand on top of your head.

Sukuna had punctuated the end of the sentiment with a sweet kiss in the space between his forefinger and thumb, right where your temple was.

You reach up and touch the spot, feeling vaguely pathetic because of how much you miss your gruff yet affectionate boyfriend.

The persistent thought repeats over and over.

I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.

Finally, you sit up with a resolute sigh and swing your feet out of bed.

You quickly bundle up and then grab your keys, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you run your thumb over the metal grooves of Sukuna’s apartment key.

In all honesty, you’re so excited to see him. You just hope that he won’t be too weirded out by you coming over so late.

You pick up your phone and start typing a heads up to him, deftly switching hands to open the door.

“Oh, shit. Hey.”

The familiar voice startles you, and you look up to see Sukuna standing right in front of you.

The roguish grin donned across his face is absolutely infectious. The lifted corners of his mouth only widen when you mirror his expression, the point of his canines complementing the sharp cut of his jawline. Even though every part of Sukuna seems rough, especially with his huge stature and penchant for swearing, his gaze is so soft and open whenever he stares at you.

It’s one of the many reasons why you love him. Plus, he looks too pretty with sweatpants hanging off of his hips.

He also has on a zipped open, baggy jacket that fully displays an olive green band tee. If you look closely, you can see peeks of his ruffled, rosy toned hair underneath the black baseball cap and jacket hood he had thrown over the mussed strands. He touches the brim of it with a hand to lower the cap further, and his sleeve slides down to reveal the tattoos inked above his wrist and further up his arm.

The shy gesture has you immediately jumping up to hug him, a stunned laugh leaving you but feeling happy nonetheless at his unexpected appearance.

“Sukuna!” You exclaim, heart warming when he reciprocates your joy and wraps strong arms around your torso.

Held in his arms, you realize the embrace provides a fond reminder that it really is the little things.

The brush of his cheek against your own, the faint scent of woodsy cologne, and the steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips when you slide your hands down to his chest.

He bends down to kiss around the crown of your head and then your smiling lips. He keeps his hands clasped over yours, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart quickening from your touch.

You hum into the press of his lips, keeping your hands softly resting on his solid chest.

Once Sukuna pulls away, he sends you a nervous look. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him embarrassed, so you practically swoon at how adorable his hesitation is.

“I was just about to call you. I know it’s late and I don’t mean to be weird but-” He bites his lip, and then rakes a large hand across the back of his neck, “Damn it, I missed you. Couldn’t sleep without my new teddy bear, I guess.”

He sweeps his sightline up to you, as if gauging your reaction, and you smile so widely that it hurts your cheeks.

“Really, baby?”

He gazes at you for a brief moment, drinking in your features and then letting out a smitten sigh, “Of course, baby.”

You start laughing as he steps closer to dot your cheeks and nose with a flurry of kisses.

“I missed you. I missed you. I fucking missed you, okay?”

“Okay, stop!” You breathlessly command, and he lets out a tired grumble.

“Okay, okay. Don’t act like you didn’t miss me either though.”

“I did. I was actually about to head to your place.” You sheepishly draw out his apartment key from your pocket, and it glints in the low light.

Sukuna smirks at your admission and then scans you from head to toe.

His eyes flit over your pajama clad figure approvingly, “Guess we had the same idea, huh? God, we are the fuckin’ cutest. Makes me sick.”

He fakes a gag at the end of his sentence, clutching at his stomach and rolling his eyes.

You push his chest with a sarcastic scoff and a scrunch of your nose, “Whatever.”

“You love me, and I love you.” He proudly declares, and then yawns into his hand.

You take in his sleep softened face, beaming at how handsome he still looks with heavy lidded eyes and disheveled hair. Sukuna remains striking even when obviously exhausted.

You love it.

And him, unfathomably.

“I do love you.” You agree, grabbing his hand and tugging him further inside your home, “Now, come inside. I love sleep too.”

He curls his fingers around yours, trying to hide his smile by bowing the brim of his hat and failing miserably.

“I think I’m already dreaming.”

_________________

End Notes:

warming up getting back into writing with some wholesome fluff! this is also partially a thank you for the "in the heat of battle" oneshot reaching 2k notes which is so so wild - thanks everyone! lmk what you think of this one, and ty for reading!!😚😚

[saymio]

The Salesman headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, stalking+kidnapping, dub/noncon, DDLG, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. classes started again so I'm taking longer to write, enjoy my hc's while u wait for a longer fic.

The Salesman, the man that found you sitting on a bench all alone crying in the middle of the night. he couldn't help but feel pity for you, like you were a puppy that was left alone out in the rain.

The Salesman, the man that came home late from doing his usual recruiting, feeling his pants getting tighter and tighter every time he replays your bloodshot eyes and shaky pathetic voice.

The Salesman, the man that decides he wants to stalk your every move after he saw you crying all alone. watching you as you try looking for places that would accept you as a worker, or when you pleasure yourself. watching through your open blinds.

The Salesman, the man that will record you while you change, sleep, and do other things around your house. jerking off to your unsuspected body, who would assume a creep was watching them through their window?

The Salesman, the man that gets front row tickets to your freak out. he sent a couple of photos he took of you sleeping to your phone number and now you're frantically running around the house. locking all your doors, windows and covering any opening you could think of. God, you looked so small and weak when you were scared.

The Salesman, the man that met eyes with you while you stood in front of a brightly lit love motel. his jaw clenching and eyes filled with rage, what were you doing here? its obvious you're a virgin, just one look at you and he could probably recite your entire life story. so why were you trying to meet up with someone here? were you going to fuck a stupid child? a boy your age doesn't know how to make a girl feel good...you need an older man to help you..

The Salesman, the man that had kidnapped you in broad 'daylight'. right infront of the motel, right infront of dozens of cameras. watching you squirming body and tears run down your face..but you cant say a word because you mouth has been duck taped shut.

The Salesman, the man that feels a strong urge to just keep you safe. to protect you from the world and let you stay home to do nothing. And the only way you'll be safe is if you stay with him. forever.

The Salesman, the man that will force you onto his cock with no remorse as you yell in pain. you've never had something this big so it feels like you've been split in half...he loves it. he loves your pain.

The Salesman, the man that will treat you like your a stupid child. petting your head and rubbing your cheek while he slowly explains the rules of the game he wants to play with you. like if he were to speak faster you'd get confused.

The Salesman the man that sets you loose in an abandoned warehouse. telling you if you hide for 2 hours without getting touched you win..and get to go home without any more abuse to your hole.

The Salesman, the man that caught you only 2 minutes before the timer went out. dark eyes piercing into yours as he smiles a creepy wide grin. "caught you~"

The Salesman, the man that enjoys your shaky eyes and rapid breathing when he finds you. he thinks its funny, you probably think he's going to kill you. but he wants to do worse

The Salesman, the man that will tie you up to a large bed. items laid out on a desk next to him...the prize for the salesman when he wins was he gets to pick what he can use on you.. he picked a whip, knife, and..his own dick.

The Salesman, the man that whips your body until youre screaming in pain and begging him to let you go...but he only gets worse as his boner gets more prominent against his slacks.

The Salesman, the man that carves "daddies slut" onto your right thigh. licking the blood that dripped down your thighs as he did so.

The Salesman, the man that will make you call him dad and daddy. he finds it so cute how your little voice says it. like a scared little girl calling out for her dad...

The Salesman, the man that drops you off right where he found you. you just had new bruises and cuts now.

Another note: I hope you guys liked this one hshsh, I'm working on a noeul fic rn. idk when it'll come out doe.. T T T T

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[steddieas-shegoes]

new toy, new boy

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘new’

rated e | 517 words | no cw | tags: anal plug, semi-public sex, getting together, friends to lovers, coming in pants, coming untouched, super light implications of Dom/sub, Dom Steve, sub Eddie

🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕

Eddie bites his lip as he tries to move his legs under him. He needs a buffer, some distance between his ass and the couch. The plug keeps rubbing against his prostate every time he breathes.

Steve keeps looking at him over Robin’s shoulders, clearly trying to figure out why Eddie is so squirmy.

Eddie feels like a dumbass for even trying this tonight. He got the new toy a few days ago in Indy and he’d been waiting for the right time to try it out. Today, he was alone for an entire afternoon, and it felt right, and he was horny, and he was too busy thinking about what Steve’s fingers would look like going inside him to remember that they had movie night. He’d also forgotten he was in charge of pizza, so when Steve called to ask if he could grab some soda on his way over, Eddie already had the plug as deep as it could be inside him.

And now he was here suffering with every move he made, or any move anyone else on the couch made, or sometimes even just a slight breeze. Which shouldn’t even be possible inside. Maybe it’s everyone’s breath? He barely holds back a whine as his ankle brushes against the base of the plug.

Steve pokes his shoulder and he turns to glare at him. Steve widens his eyes to silently ask if he’s okay.

No, he’s not okay. He’s going to come in his pants surrounded by his friends because he’s an idiot and if Steve keeps looking at him like that, he’s gonna do it sooner rather than later. He needs water or beer or weed.

“Eddie, help me get refills for everybody,” Steve says quietly enough that only the people closest to them hear. They mostly ignore him.

When Eddie stands, he has to bite his hand.

When Eddie walks to the kitchen behind Steve, he has to dig his nails into his palm.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” Steve rounds on him, pushing him against the counter and making everything so much worse.

“I had too much soda?”

“You’re sweating, man.” Steve reaches up to brush hair from Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie’s surprised that he’s as sticky as he is. “Are you sick?”

“I bought a new plug!” Eddie says just a little too loud.

Steve’s brows furrow as he tries to figure out what Eddie’s talking about.

And then he realizes.

He smirks.

“Poor thing. You’ve been so close all night, haven’t you?” Steve’s voice drops low and Eddie’s cock twitches.

“Fuck. Yeah,” Eddie nods, gripping the edge of the counter.

“Turn around.” Steve shoves one of Eddie’s shoulders gently, turning him around.

Eddie yelps. Steve’s leg brushes against his ass, searching for-

“Fuck!” Eddie gasps, rocking back for more friction.

“Get yourself off. C’mon. It won’t take much,” Steve demands. “Use my thigh.”

Eddie’s never done it like this, but that doesn’t matter. He comes quickly.

“You’re…?” Eddie starts.

“Go up to my room and take the plug out. Borrow some pants. You can stay the night.”

[dear-aubade]

first of all I love your writing style 💔

second: can you make a drabble where Joel comforts reader during her cold or any kind of sickness, maybe even usual stomachache aand then they have soft cute gentle xex, and he whispers praises to her, soothing all of her aches, lyyy

- 🐿️

Awwe thank you for the kind words anon, I’m glad you like my work! Here you go!

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You try to hide your sickness from Joel because you don’t want to stress him out. It doesn’t work.

Notes: Sick fic, praise kink, soft!dom!joel, sub!reader, sick!reader, reader is in her head a lot, unprotected p in v, reader is very much Joel’s baby, READER IS NOT PREGNANT SHE’S JUST NAUSEOUS

It was normal for you to be reserved. A little quieter than most, a little more soft. Joel knew you better than anybody, and he could tell when you’d slipped into your daydreams, just needing a few moments to drift off within your own head.

But this…this was different.

The day had started off as usual. You and Joel woke up together tangled in blankets, his strong arms holding you close. But the moment you blinked your bleary eyes awake you gave him a swift kiss and mumbled, “M’gonna go shower” before leaving him alone in bed.

Things only got stranger from there. That afternoon Joel was scheduled to leave for a short patrol with Tommy—lately there had been more Clicker sightings, so he and his brother had increased the amount of rotations needed per day. Joel didn’t want to leave you alone when he suspected something was wrong, but it was necessary for him to go if they wanted to keep Jackson a safe haven.

Normally when he was about to leave you’d get all teary-eyed and try to get as many kisses from him as you could before he took off. This time, however, you gave him a short smile and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

That sent Joel’s suspicion through the roof. He had studied your face, searching for any indication there might be something off. Your eyes were a little droopy, but he also knew that the night before you’d been up late with him reading to you…

“Is everything okay, baby?” he had asked softly.

Something flickered in your eyes and a little v appeared between your brow as it creased in confusion. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, I’m just a little worried about you.”

At that, you gave him an innocent smile. “I’m just tired, Joel. I’m okay.” You stood on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a soft peck. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Against his better judgement, he’d left. But that didn’t stop him from worrying about you all throughout patrol.

You felt absolutely awful.

In the morning you’d woken with quite possibly the worst stomach ache you’d ever experienced. You thought a shower might make you feel better, that your body was just disagreeing with something you’d eaten the day before.

It got worse. It seemed that anything you did made the nausea flare up. All you wanted to do was be Joel’s princess for the day, to whine until he took you in his arms and hushed your cries with sweet words and sweeter kisses.

But he had patrol that day, and you didn’t want him to worry. You weren’t supposed to make him worry, you were supposed to be his good girl. You didn’t want him distracted—you knew he’d been stressed about the increased Clicker sightings and you didn’t want to add more to the burden he was already carrying.

And so you stayed silent about it. You smiled at him and sent him on his way, and finally, finally when you were alone, you snuggled up back in bed.

You were freezing. Even with the thick blankets piled on top of you, you still were shivering, and your stomach ache stayed constant. Even your mind began to fuzz to the point where you didn’t know how long it had been since Joel left. You stopped caring about the need to pretend everything was fine—you just wanted him.

You weren’t in the living room when Joel got back. Normally you’d be there waiting since it was the closest comfy place to the door, so the moment you heard the door open you could run and embrace him in a flurry of kisses.

But you weren’t there.

“Baby?” he called out, shutting the door behind him.

No response.

He frowned and took his shoes off, then shed his thick snow jacket and gloves. Beneath he was just wearing dark-washed jeans and his signature flannel.

In your room, all Joel saw was a lump beneath the thick gray comforter. “Darlin’?” Joel crossed the room and knelt beside the bed. Were you asleep? Did—

“Joel?” Your voice was strained, small. You rolled over and Joel’s stomach sank. Your eyes were hazy, your cheeks slightly flushed. Had you been crying?

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

He cupped your cheek and your bottom lip quivered for a moment before you burst into tears.

“Oh, baby.” He promptly stood and got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. You were so much smaller than him, so easy to pick up and hold against him. “I gotcha. Shh,” he soothed.

You cried quietly into his chest as you clung to him while he smoothed back your hair and pressed gentle kisses to your head. His words were soft murmurs.

“It’s okay darlin’, I’m here now. S’alright….deep breaths sweetheart, can you do that for me? Can you—oh, good girl. That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me…”

Eventually your sobs quieted, though a tear still fell down your cheek every now and then. After a few more minutes of holding you, Joel spoke again.

“What’s wrong, honey?” he prompted. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffled. “Just….” Your brow creased. “Jus’ don’t feel good.”

Joel hummed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.” Your bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t want—“

“Hey, don’t start again,” he cooed softly, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “You don’t ever have to think that ever again, you hear? I like worrying about you. You’re my baby, ‘s my job to take care of you.”

He saw your reaction to that—lips parting, brows relaxing, eyes going a little doe like.

“You like hearin’ me say that?” he murmured, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone, catching another stray tear. “Like that I take care of you?”

You nodded, eyes big and wide.

Joel kissed your forehead. “You need me to distract you a little bit baby? Make all the bad feelings go away for awhile?”

“Mhmm.” Your little voice was breathless.

Joel chuckled. “Alright honey. You just keep laying there n’ lookin’ pretty—don’t gotta do any of the work.”

Your head had been fuzzy before because of the sickness, but it was nothing compared to now. When Joel talked to you like this, held you like this…it made everything around him grow foggy.

He slid his hand beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and his index finger started to tease your bud over your panties. You squirmed.

“Wigglin’ already baby? I haven’t even done anything yet.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice.

His fingers slid past your underwear to dip into your wetness. You whined and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, embarrassed at how slippery you were already.

Joel chuckled and held you tighter. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Nothing wrong with bein’ ready.”

You whimpered as his fingers circled the outside of your entrance. You shook your head at his teasing. “Want your cock,” you whined so sweetly in his ear. “I can take it, promise….just want you to make it all better.”

“Awe baby,” Joel crooned, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Okay. Just give me a sec…”

He shifted to pull down his pants and boxers and toss them to the side. He was already hard against your hip. Laying side-by-side, your chest to his, Joel slid his length past your folds.

Oh….you could have sworn you forgot about your aches and pains right in that moment. He made you feel so full. He was so big, so thick and warm….you could feel him all the way up in your tummy.

Joel let out a sigh that bordered on a groan. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart. So good…”

He started to rock his hips gently and you whimpered, burying your face into his chest.

He chuckled. “So shy, baby. That’s okay, you just sit there…don’t gotta worry about a single thing.”

One of your legs hooked over his hip as his pace sped up and you clung to him the whole way through. You felt so…so…oh, you feel him dragging along your walls so nicely. You were absolute putty in his arms—Joel always made you feel that way, always gave you such big feelings it made you feel too small to hold them all.

“So good, baby,” he cooed. “Such a good girl, taking me so well…just lay there and let me fill you up—oh, you’re so tight around me princess…”

You could feel it then, that big feeling. The one that made you whimper and whine, trying to hide your face more than it already was. “Joel…”

“It’s okay, just let it happen.” His pelvis was rubbing against your bundle of nerves oh so nicely it made you dizzy. “Let me feel you finish on my cock, darlin’, you’re so good for me, so good…”

Every coo and murmur only brought you higher. You let out another high-pitched whine as the feeling started to become too much, too tight too hot too everything, oh you were right there, you…

You cried out as you reached your peak and then fell over the edge. Joel held you the whole way through as you clenched around him and he spilled inside of you, murmuring praises the whole time.

“Good girl, good girl….my pretty baby, you’re doing so well, taking my cock in that pretty pussy of yours….that’s it sweetheart…”

He rocked his hips gently to help bring you down from your high, slowly decreasing his pace until he came to an eventual stop.

He held you in his arms, your body against his. You hummed contentedly and nuzzled at his neck.

Joel smiled. “Feel better, sweet girl?”

“Mmm.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He kissed your forehead. “Why don’t we get in the bath for a bit to clean up, and then I’ll make you some soup? Nothing that will be too harsh on your stomach.”

You blinked drowsily and nodded. “Mhmm. I’d like that.”

Yes, you’d like that very much indeed.

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 2

// It’s time for the second chapter! This one focuses more on the conversations with other characters than on Ayayui interactions, but I’m really curious to see if anyone can guess who the second Diaboy to meet Yui will be. 👀

This story isn’t meant to be a harem or anything like that though, but all the Diaboys will meet Yui at some point. I hope you enjoy this chapter until the next one! 💖

Chapter 1

Place: Dorms

Ayato: Good night.

Laito: Nighty night~!

— Ayato enters his room —

Laito: ( Hmm… he seems unusually quiet. He hasn’t said a single word the entire way, which is so unlike him. )

( It’s as if something’s weighing on his mind, that he’s deliberately keeping to himself. )

( Something must have surely happened to him when he went outside, but why won’t he say anything? That’s weird… )

— stretches and yawns —

Anyway, there’s no point in overthinking it. As long as it doesn’t damage his and our reputation, it’s not worth worrying about.

Place: Ayato’s room

Ayato: ( Phew, I managed to slip into my bed without waking Shu up. )

( The last thing I needed was a lecture about sneaking off to the club as an idol and nearly getting caught. )

( Haa… what a mess. I really made a fool of myself today, didn’t I? )

( If it weren’t for that girl, I’d probably be in the hospital right now, all over the news for alcohol poisoning. )

( Man, that would’ve totally wrecked my career… )

???: Heh, where have you been?

Ayato: …!

( Was that—)

O-Oi, you’re not sleeping!?

Shu: I was until a certain someone tripped over the WI-FI cable and woke me up.

Ayato: ( Fuck! )

Shu: But whatever, I answered your question, so now it’s your turn to answer mine.

— opens one eye and looks at him —

Ayato: ( Wait… I could just make something up and play it off as the truth! )

( Heh, exactly! There’s no way he’d be able to tell it’s a lie! )

Just practicing. I want to be the best version of myself for the next concert, y’know?

Shu: Hmm… I see.

And now, what’s the real answer?

Ayato: …!?

( How did he— )

Hah? W-What do you mean? I’m telling the truth!

— Shu opens both eyes and looks at him —

Shu: You went there, didn’t you?

Ayato: …!

( This guy… he can see through me! )

How the hell did you know that I went to the night club!?

Shu: Heh~? So I was right after all. You really did go there, huh?

Ayato: ( You… You fucking tricked me! )

Look, I know I’m not the best at keeping things together, but don’t tell Reiji! I beg you!

If the leader finds out, the staff will know, and once the CEO hears, I’m done! He’ll fire me in a heartbeat, no questions asked!

Shu: You’re overreacting. No idol is gonna get fired for just going to a night club.

Ayato: Man, you just don’t get it! It’s not just about going there— it’s what went down while I was there!

Shu: Oh? Now you’ve got me curious. What exactly happened?

— starts piping —

Ayato: ( Why do I keep getting myself in this!? )

( Haa… but I guess there’s no point in running away from my issues anymore. )

Basically, I was very tired and thought of over drinking to get my mind think of something else, but the alcohol and exhaustion made a really bad combination, so my chest started aching.

I went outside to get some air, but the pain just kept getting worse until this random chick found me and gave me her water bottle.

Shu: Wait… so you got caught?

Ayato: Luckily, no! As crazy as this sounds, she didn’t recognize me.

Heck, she even asked for my name after I called her a cab! But of course, I’m not that dumb. I knew it would have been way too risky to tell her my name.

( Honestly, I don’t even know why I was so anxious about it. In the end, everything worked out just fine, and I bet that girl will forget all about it in a few hours anyway. )

Shu: Hmm… you do realize that might have merely been an act, don’t you?

Ayato: Huh? What do you mean…?

Shu: Women are sly as foxes.

They’ll play all innocent and clueless, behaving like they have no idea what’s going on, but in reality, they’re just getting exactly what they want without anyone even realizing it.

Heh, it’s almost impressive how they pull it off.

Ayato: Wait… so you mean that girl knew who I was and only pretended not to so as to stalk me? But if that’s the case, then——

Shu: Haa… no need to scream, it’s almost 3 in the morning.

I’m not saying she’s a stalker, but you should probably be more cautious.

You know how fangirls are. If they see you talking to any girl that’s not them, they’ll lose it. Better to just watch out and avoid any unnecessary trouble.

— closes eyes again —

Not just for you, but for everyone else around too.

Ayato’s monologue

Shu’s right. I need to step up my game and start taking this job more seriously.

Being an idol isn’t just a paycheck; it’s a responsibility that goes far beyond me.

Every choice I make carries weight, and not just for my future, but for the company’s and everyone I work with.

Yeah… Exactly. If I let my career fall apart, it’s not only me who’ll feel it— the whole team, every project, and all the hard work we’ve put into this place will take a hit as well.

That’s why, from now on, I’m done making stupid decisions that could mess everything up. My focus is on my idol activities and nothing else.

I should have realized from the moment I signed the contract that living like a normal teenager just isn’t part of the deal anymore.

*Timeskip*

Place: Hotel kitchen

Yui: ( Working here is surprisingly relaxing. Not only that, but the co-workers I met seem very nice too! )

( I’m really excited to put my cooking skills to good use. From what I remember, this hotel has a great reputation, therefore it’s truly amazing to learn from such experienced professionals. )

???: Noooo!!!

Yui: …!?

( It’s coming from the storeroom! )

— quickly opens it —

???: ….!

Yui: Hana-san!

I-I heard you scream, are you alright?

Hana: Wa—… Was I really that loud? This is so embarrassing… I’m so sorry!

— covers face with hands —

Yui: Ah, there’s no need to worry about that, it’s fine.

More importantly, what happened? Did something scare you?

Hana: No, I’m not scared, more like… disappointed.

In case you haven’t heard already, the SAKAMAKIS are filming a special episode for their YouTube channel at three different locations, and guess what? My two favorite members are coming to this hotel in 4 days, but the issue is... it’s happening right when I’m not on shift…!

— starts crying —

On top of that, I promised my sister I’d visit her in Fukuoka, since we'll both be off work at the same time, which means that there’s absolutely no way I can meet them now!

This is such terrible timing…!

Yui: ( SAKAMAKIS… Based on Hana-san’s intense reaction, they must be some sort of important public figures, no? )

Oww… it does sound unfortunate, but you shouldn’t give up hope completely. After all, you live in Japan, so I’m sure there’s always a chance you’ll get to meet them!

Hana: It’s not as easy as you say…

They will return to Korea soon, and who knows when they’ll promote in Japan again? This was my only opportunity to see them outside of the concerts… and I couldn’t even manage to get any decent seats there.

— pouts —

Yui: ( Wait, did she say ‘concerts’? )

Ohh, I see. So they’re idols!

Hana: Eh? You… You actually don’t know the SAKAMAKIS—!?

Yui: W-Well… I’m sorry, the name doesn't really ring a bell, and to be honest, I can’t say I’m familiar with the idol world in general.

Hana: But come on, you must have at least seen their faces before, right?

— shows her a picture of them —

Yui: ( Will she be let down again if I say ‘no’? )

( Hmm… But truth be told, these boys are undeniably good-looking, and it’s clear that they must be hardworking as well, considering how they manage to juggle such hectic schedules. )

( I can easily see why they’ve captured the hearts of such passionate fans. )

— eyes suddenly widen —

( The red-haired one——! )

— blushes —

Hana: So, who did steal Yui-san’s heart~?

Yui: Ah, n-nobody…!

— gets embarrassed —

It’s just that the boy in middle… he got an incredibly well-featured face. I don’t know how to put it into words, but he simply appears unreal.

( To think that a human could look like this… it makes me a bit envious. His eyes and face shape are especially pretty. )

— Hana starts laughing —

Yui: ( Eh? Did I say something wrong? )

Hana: Get in line, that’s Ayato-san!

Hmph… just the thought of not being able to see his tiny, perfect face up close makes my heart ache.

Yui: ( Hana-san… she really seems to love this group a lot. )

( I can't help but think that if I were in her shoes, I'd feel hurt too not being able to see someone I admire so much… )

Hey, Hana-san… I know it’s not exactly the same as having it personally from him, but if it’s possible, I’d be more than willing to ask Ayato-san for an autograph on your behalf!

Hana: Eh—? Would you really do that for me!?

Yui-san, you are the best!

— hugs her —

Yui: I-It’s nothing, really.

Hana: Wait a little—! Now that I think about it, you could also totally grab a photo with them! Isn’t that wonderful?

( I can’t believe it! This way I’ll be just one person away from Ayato-san! )

Yui: Uuh… I’m sure it’d be a nice memory to look back on, but wouldn’t it bother you if I did? After all, you’ve been their loyal fan all this time, not me.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that they would agree to take a picture with an ordinary person such as myself.

Hana: That doesn’t matter, silly! They’re super chill with their fans, and everyone says they never turn down a picture request— unless they’re busy, of course. There’s no way they’d refuse you, especially not in a setting like this.

You also mentioned being captivated by Ayato-san’s visuals, so fan or not, I think anyone would jump at the chance to take a picture with such a fine man~!

Yui’s monologue

Hana-san and I continued to talk about it for a while, and during our conversation, she suggested a few of their songs for me to listen to on my way back to the Airbnb.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but as I played each one, I was pleasantly surprised.

While I’m still not very knowledgeable about this group, the melodies, the lyrics, and even the energy in their performances were captivating in a way I hadn’t expected.

That Ayato boy… he seems like someone who was born to be on stage. Such charisma and beauty… It really makes me wonder how he acts off-cameras.

Hana-san has clearly supported the SAKAMAKIS for such a long time, and to finally get the chance to meet them, only to have it slip through her fingers, must be heartbreaking.

A part of me can’t shake the feeling of guilt, even though I know very well that it wasn’t my or anyone’s fault.

It might not be a fair comparison, I know, but it reminded me of the boy I met yesterday.

He has probably forgotten about me already, but just like Hana-san dreams of meeting her idols, I find myself wishing to meet him again.

Author’s note:

* In case you're wondering why Ayato is sharing a room with Shu and not Laito, many companies assign roommates to idols randomly. The idea is that idols are supposed to get along with everyone, so the arrangement is made to promote harmony and teamwork, regardless of personal preferences.

[dragon-creates]

Funnybunny Week 2025

Prompt: Alternate Universe

AU: Wonderland Swap AU by @endomentendo @snoopy7c7 and me!

AO3

There was a warm stinging on her right eye, a liquid pouring down her cheek. The wind was cutting through her like stinging eyes, the rain only making the pain more amplified. She had to keep going, she had to reach…who was she trying to reach again?

It hurt to move.

Why was she running through the forest?

It hurt to speak.

Who attacked her?

It hurt to breathe.

What was her name…

She collapsed, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up to her. Right in front of a little cottage.

.

.

.

Jax grunted as the thunder woke him up for the umpteenth time. Was it truly too much to ask for some sleep, especially since it would be his day off tomorrow. He liked to use those days to catch up on some work. And if there wasn’t any to catch up on, he’d create some of his own. Many called the white rabbit a workaholic, he liked to think of it as staying ahead one step at a time. 

He jumped when lightning cracked, growling as he finally got up. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well have a spot of tea until the worst of the storm went away. Jax went downstairs and into the kitchen, filling up the kettle and putting it on the stove. He sighed as he waited for it to boil, taking a moment to go into the living room and over to the curtains - might as well see the ruckus that kept him away.

He drew back the curtains, peering at the forest in front of him - grimacing. While the forest held the paths to every place he needed to go, it also held the path to go into the amnesia forest. He was thankful for the signs and his own sense of direction. Everyone knows that once you step foot into the amnesia forest, you forget why you went in and the person you were beforehand. 

However, the sleep began to fade away when he noticed a figure collapsed right outside the forest and near his cottage. He gasped when he saw blood on her body. 

Jax quickly grabbed a blanket from the sofa, rushing outside. For the first time he was like most of the others in this world, losing common sense and rushing into madness. He didn’t care, someone needed his help.

He ran over to the girl, lifting her up. The blood was coming from her eye, torn out of its socket. She needed help and fast. He wrapped the blanket around her and scooped her up, carrying back into his cottage. 

Shutting the door behind him, he trekked up the stairs, carrying the precious cargo in his arms. Once in his room he laid her on top of his bed, her bloody eye was looking worse and her wet clothes would cause her to freeze to death. It was too stormy to take her to the town’s doctor, so he would have to dress the wound as best he could and take her when the storm cleared in the morning. 

He took out his medical supplies from the cupboards in the hall, sitting on the side of the bed as he cleaned and dressed the wound, pressing gauze to the missing bleeding eye. Then came the hard part, to get her into warm clothes.

Taking hold of her wet nightgown, he squeezed his eyes shut and removed it off her figure, taking a giant robe next to him and wrapped it around her body. He made sure she was covered before tying the belt and sliding her arms through the sleeves. Jax sighed in relief once the deed was done.

He lifted the blankets, placing her under them as he tucked the girl in. He sat by her side, watching her chest rise and fall with shaking breathing. Where did she come from? And who wanted to hurt her so badly?

.

.

.

She stirred when sunlight hit eyes, fluttering them open. The first thing she noticed was the painful stabbing ache throughout body, specifically her eye. The next was the memories of the night before, being out in the cold and wet. Not it was justified by the warm, soft robe and blankets she was wrapped up in. 

She tried to sit up, only for the pain to shoot through her nerves making her let out a strangled gasp. 

“Easy, easy!” A white rabbit appeared in front of her, setting down a tray on her dresser as he rushed over to her. “You were in really bad shape when I found you, and your injuries aren’t fully healed. We’ll need to take you to the doctor’s later to take a proper look at your eye.”

On the tray was a plate with a croissant and a cup of hot tea. It smelled good. The rabbit propped her up on some pillows before handing the tea to her, the girl held the cup carefully as she took a tiny sip, “Where am I?”

“In my cottage, just outside the forest,” Jax told her. “What were you doing out there in the middle of the storm last night?”

The girl blinked, trying to find the reason, “I…I’m not sure. I can’t even remember going in there.”

Jax’s brows furrowed with concern, “Can you tell me your name?”

“My name? My name is…is…” the girl’s stomach dropped in dread. “Oh gods! What’s my name? Who am I? Why can’t I remember anything about my life?!

Jax quickly grasped the girl’s hands before she accidentally hurt herself, “Hey, hey it’s okay. Hold onto me and breathe. See, breathe with me.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she tried her best to copy him. She was still shaking, but her breathing was even, “I don’t know who I am.”

Jax didn’t know what to say, other than, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your doing,” the girl sniffed. “But I have nowhere to go if I don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember if I have a family. Where do I go?”

The rabbit felt his heart twist for her. Never before had he seen someone look so terrified, so lonely. Where would she go after helping her? Would she be even more lonely and scared? How could he just not think about someone going out there without anywhere to go?...well, he could think of one place, “Once we come back from the doctor’s, we can set up a room for you here. If you want to, of course.”

Pomni looked up at him with wide eyes, “What?! I can’t impose-”

“You’re not imposing,” Jax told her. “I don’t want you to be out there with nowhere to go, it’s not right. But I’ll need help around here once you’re healed, I can cook and get things for you but I hope that you can help around with chores here.”

“Yes of course!” Pomni nodded. “I’ll help out as much as I can.”

Jax felt something stir seeing her determination come forward, it was cute, “Just make sure to take it easy. Remember, this will be your home so don’t overwork yourself. And I’ll need something to call you.”

“Right,” Pomni pressed her finger to her lips in thought. “What should my name be?” She pondered for a moment, “Well, maybe we should stick with something simple like…Penny, Penny Ann!”

“Penny hmm?” Jax smiled as the name rolled off his tongue. “It’s pretty.”

“Maybe it’s a gut feeling, but I feel like my name begins with a P,” she huffed a laugh. “Weird, huh?”

Jax chuckled, “Darling, I am friends with a mad ragdoll obsessed with tea parties and a cheshire pile of ribbons who’s determined to make me rip my ears out when talking to her. There’s nothing ridiculous with speculating your name.”

Penny Ann giggled, it sounded like music, “Penny Ann it is, and you are?”

Jax wanted to smack himself, the entire time he didn’t even bother to tell her his name, “I’m Jax, the timekeeper for the red queen.”

There was something nagging at the back of Penny Ann’s mind at the mention of the queen, but she ignored it for now. Her mind was already heavy enough with everything that happened, “Nice to meet you Jax.”

The white rabbit smiled warmly, “Nice to meet you too Penny Ann.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Slip Slidin' Away

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Coat | Word Count: 1355 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Modern Day AU, Ice Storm, Neighbors Meet Cute, FYP Getting *Far* Too Local

Eddie reaches for his phone. It's buzzing against his thigh again. He's getting annoyed. His doorbell camera has been going apeshit for the last ten minutes, but every time he checks, nobody's out there. 

Another notification, another annoyance, and this time he actually pulls up the recorded clip instead of just the live feed to see what kind of insect has survived the freeze just to terrorize him. 

It's not a bug, though.

It's worse. It's a man, on a pair of ice skates, gliding up and down their frozen street. 

What in the actual fuck? Is he crazy? This guy isn't even wearing a coat, but he glides into, and then out of view, on honest to god skates. In the street. Who the fuck is this dude?

Eddie watches the rest of that clip, then a couple more, before he puts his phone out of his reach, not picking it up again until it actually rings.

"It's too cold for band practice," Gareth says by way of hello, and well, no shit. None of them should be out in this weather. Especially not Eddie, he's a terrible driver under regular circumstances. On ice? Recipe for disaster, for sure.

"What gave it away, the solid sheet of ice or the freezing temperatures?"

"Asshole," Gareth laughs. "I'm just saying. Don't come slip slidin' away over here. You'll die."

"Speaking of slip slidin', Simon, there's a dude skating in the street outside the house," Eddie tells him. "He keeps setting off my doorbell cam."

"Like, hockey skating or figure skating?" Gareth asks, and fuck if Eddie knows? 

"I don't know. He's got blades strapped to his feet and a death wish." 

"Sounds familiar," Gareth says.

Eddie ignores him. He's crazy and reckless, but he's not skate in the street crazy. There's a difference, surely.

"He's not even wearing a coat. I'd at least wear a coat to my death."

"Because you're a delicate flower with no circulation."

Eddie laughs. He's not delicate, but he is cold-blooded to his core. 

"How long is this ice storm supposed to last?" Eddie asks. He hates this kind of bitter cold.

"Three days, give or take."

Three days. He can handle three days without interacting with another human being.

Later, when he's laying in bed doom scrolling, he gets a text from Gareth:

Eddie opens the link, and it's definitely his street, and is the video of the skating guy. The other POV? He thinks that's the right term, but he wouldn't bet the farm on it. Either way, the account's name is Robin, and with a quick glance through her profile, he suspects she's the wife of Mr. Skates. 

These must be his neighbors. He's done a pretty damn good job at avoiding meeting anyone, but here they are, on his phone. Small world.

She's razzing the shit out of him in the clip, and Eddie thinks she's not wrong. Dude's lucky he didn't catch a rock taller than the sheet of ice with his skate and eat shit. 

He's gorgeous. It loops again, and again.

Eddie watches him lace up his skates, over and over, and hit the icy street, laughing the whole time. 

Why is this video an hour long? 

He lets it cycle through one more time, gives it a like and a favorite, and Eddie's not much for social media, or playing nice with neighbors, but he leaves a comment before overthinking it. 

It's not until the next night, back in bed, his phone in his hand that he realizes there's a metric shit-ton of notifications waiting for him. Mainly likes on his comment and then a couple responses. This video must have blown up today. Which makes sense, if it was pushed into Gareth's feed for him to even see to send to Eddie, lots of other people must have gotten it, too.

His neighbors have responded, but were mainly just bantering with each other:

Well, now Eddie's embarrassed. Nice moves? He didn't realize this was gonna go public. Especially since this guy is good looking. Way to make a fool of yourself in front of the hot, new neighbor. Jesus H. Christ. 

He really needs to think things through before he says — or types — them. 

Oh well. He'll avoid them. That hasn't been hard to do so far, last night's assault on his camera, notwithstanding.

The next morning, Eddie's carefully tiptoeing outside to retrieve his mail, trying not to bust his ass on the ice that just will not melt, three days his fucking ass, when a yellow blur is zooming towards him. It comes to an abrupt stop, ice dust flying, right on the iced over pavement right in front of Eddie's mailbox. It's kinda impressive.

"You're Ed, right?" he asks.

"Eddie, yeah. Steve?" Eddie questions, and so much for not interacting. But the guy nods, giving him a bright smile. They shake hands, and now Eddie's met his neighbors. Anti-social streak over.

"That's me, I can't believe you saw our video from next door!" 

Eddie doesn't think he needs to go into a bunch of details on how it was really Gareth whose algorithm got fed it, so he just nods along, "Small world, indeed." 

"Robin is dying that it went kinda viral." 

"Your wife?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly falls off his skates laughing. 

"No. No way. Best friend. Platonic with a capital P. Hetero life mates, except for the hetero part." 

Eddie's ears definitely perk up at that. 

"Well, I feel lucky to be on the non-hetero side of the street, then." 

Steve grins, "Oh, you definitely lucked out. Mr. Hollins across the street is straight enough for the whole neighborhood." 

Eddie doesn't know who that is, but laughs anyway.

Then has an idea: 

"So, I have an important question," Eddie says, and Steve just looks at him, curious and expectant. 

"Are those hockey skates or figure skates?" 

Steve holds onto Eddie's mailbox and laughs, head tossed back, hair flying. It's perfect. He's perfect.

"Hockey, but that doesn't mean I don't have moves. I have moves for days. Don't you worry." 

"Moves, you say? Well, let's see 'em, big boy."

Steve smiles, and pushes off into the street. Eddie ribbed him for no coat last night, and now here Eddie is, outside, no coat, freezing his ass off as he's demanding his cute neighbor skate for him. 

He takes out his phone, and starts recording. Even he knows this will be a popular update to their little moment. 

Steve skates backwards, crossing his legs over each other. 

"Can you jump?" Eddie yells. 

"It's not advised!" Steve yells back, "But, since when do I ever listen to advise! Waltz!" 

He does a little jump, and lands on one foot skating backwards. Eddie hoots and hollers, and Steve takes a bow. 

And that's it. He skates over and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

"You want to come in for coffee? Warm up?" Eddie offers, unwilling to let him just leave. 

"Hell yeah, sure," Steve agrees, and Eddie watches him skate up the driveway, and then stop on the porch to take off his skates. He holds onto Eddie's shoulder to balance himself, and Eddie can feel his warm hand, fingers gripping his skin, through his shirt.

He wants those hands in other places.

Oh, he's in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Steve has on big, thick socks and looks so cozy in his sweater as he follows Eddie in the house. 

"It's nice to have a good neighbor again. The last lady," Steve says, then gives two big thumbs down, blowing a raspberry.

Eddie laughs. He's never been considered the good neighbor before. Not with his shitty van, long hair and too loud music. 

He starts a pot of coffee, and looks in the fridge. He has a few things, and he wants Steve to stay as long as possible. Eddie has some wooing to do.

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat," Steve admits. "I can always eat. Hollow leg, all the sports will do that to you."

And Eddie starts fixing this hot guy, who's certainly way out of his league, no matter which sport, breakfast.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: I saw a video of someone ice skating on the street, and their neighbor saw it and commented like, "Hey! That's my car in the background!"

Slip Slidin' Away is a Paul Simon song.

Hetero life mates is a Jay & Silent Bob reference.

[junplusone]

i'll always say it's you ; yoon jeonghan

summary: you always used to think that even the end of the world couldn’t keep you and yoon jeonghan apart; you’d find your way back to each other somehow. ten years later, you start to wonder if that’s such a good thing after all.

contains: childhood best friends to ??? to ???, swearing, drinking (+ underage), talk of joshua and cheol's arm muscles, mention of drugs in a joke like once i think, caffeine addiction, peak delusion, jeonghan cheating in games as always, hella yearning

word count: 12.98k

a/n: this is lowkey a mess and probably kind of inaccurate loll but i hope u enjoy! feedback always appreciated xx

the me of today hopes for the you of tomorrow

“What about you, Y/N? Have you ever been in love?”

Hearing your own name slowly zones you back into the conversation at the table. You pause at the question, a drop of soju splashing out of the glass in your hand.

“What?”

“Come on, it’s just a silly question,” the young intern says, rolling his eyes. “You’re no fun, Y/N. We’re off work right now! It’s fine,” he drawls, swaying a little in his chair.

You can’t really remember his name right now, downing the glass in one go, but his bold innocence bothers you. Maybe his demeanor, full of life and promise, is what gets on your nerves. 

Were you like that when you were fresh out of college, too? It’s so unthinkable to you now, at twenty-nine. It feels like ages in the past.

“So? Are you —”

“I hardly think this is an appropriate conversation,” you say quietly, zipping your bag shut. “I think I’m going to head out, anyways. It’s quite late already.”

“But —”

“Chan, just stop asking questions and drink this, okay?” His friends try and calm him down with a glass of water. Amidst the chatter, you decide to slip away, silently pushing in your chair and leaving the bustling restaurant. 

Dinners like this always end up making you feel worse, anyways, like an outlier at a table of people with fervent hopes and dreams of their own. 

You make it two blocks until your phone begins to buzz in your pocket, and you fumble to answer it, knowing there’s only one person who would call you at nine o’clock on a Friday night.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you answered,” Yeonju says, evidently surprised. “I thought you’d still be at work.”

“I’m on my way home now,” you tell her. “Why, did something happen?”

“Kind of,” you hear rustling on her end of the line. “Jeonghan called.”

“Huh?” 

You had stopped abruptly at Yeonju’s words— foolishly in the middle of the road, and you rush to the sidewalk, still reeling. It’s been so long since you’ve even heard his name that it sends your mind into a tailspin when she says it again.

“I thought you knew,” she says, “He said he tried calling you first, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

“I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t have saved,” you remind her. You haven’t had Jeonghan’s number saved on your phone in a long time. There was no need to keep it if you never used it anymore.

“I think you should talk to him.”

“Yeonju,” you shake your head. “Why would I? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is, and you know it, too,” she doubles down. “You won’t say it, but I know you agree with me.”

She’s right, as much as you want to pretend otherwise. When has Choi Yeonju ever been wrong about you? Sometimes it scares you how good she is at reading your mind, but as always, she delivers reality checks right when she feels like you need them.

“Maybe,” you admit begrudgingly. “But things are just easier without him.”

“Yeah, well, nothing is ever easy,” she points out, “but take your own time, no rush. And take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I will,” you say with a faint smile.

“OK, perfect. Call if you need anything else, yeah? I gotta go now.”

“Okay, Yeonju, take care.”

“Bye!”

She hangs up just as you unlock your front door, shutting it behind you and kicking off your shoes. The peace and quiet of your apartment welcomes you, and you sigh in relief as you sink into your couch.

Pulling out your phone again, you scroll through your call log. There are a few unsaved numbers, likely just spam calls, but when you see the same number four times in a row, there’s no doubt about who it might have been. Your finger hovers over the screen; should you? Shouldn’t you?

No, it’s easier to just stay angry. It’s easier to pretend his name means nothing to you anymore. 

But even as you toss your phone to the side, Chan’s question still haunts you, like it’s a reminder that maybe you need to retrace your steps and do something different this time. 

God, you had finally been able to go a few days without thinking about him, but today just took you right back to square one.

“Have you ever been in love?”

When you close your eyes, all you see is him.

first time feeling my heart race, never thought it'd beat so fast

TEN YEARS AGO

“Yoon Jeonghan, delete that right now or I’m going to kill you.”

Jeonghan shakes his head vehemently, still cackling at the picture of you on his phone. This is nothing new to you; over the years you’ve gotten used to him finding the absolute worst angles of you whenever you fall asleep in class, or on the bus, and it never fails to get you fuming. 

In fact, if Jeonghan has one talent, it’s probably pissing you off.

“Not my fault you dozed off like that during lecture! Even Yeonju would have bullied you if she was there,” he teases. “I’ve been collecting bad Y/N photos since we were sixteen and in high school, why would I stop now?”

“You’re evil.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“Dinner’s on you, by the way.”

“What?!”

“Do you want to keep that horrendous picture or not?”

“Okay, fine,” he concedes immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket. “But we’re going back to my dorm first because I left my wallet on my desk.”

"Why would you not have that with you? Dumbass," you scold. 

To anyone else, you might sound angry, but somewhere in the unspoken words, you and Jeonghan have already reconciled. 

The weather is chilly and perfectly November-esque, and if not for the thick scarf around your neck you’d be shivering by now. Having Jeonghan by your side adds to the warmth spreading throughout your body, a little piece of happiness found in his company. 

You’ve never needed to explain yourself to him. Somehow, whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s going on, he just knows, and it’s perfect. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Not much to your surprise, Jeonghan’s roommate is there when the two of you walk in, blankets piled over him as he hunches over his laptop. 

“Hey, Josh,” you greet him. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he frowns, rubbing his eyes, “I may have procrastinated a little too hard on this paper and now it’s due in a couple of hours and I’m totally fucked.”

“This is why I told you to drop that philosophy class at the beginning of the semester,” Jeonghan says, pocketing his wallet. “You don’t even need to take it.”

“Just trying to knock off my humanities electives, but honestly, this one kind of backfired on me,” Joshua admits, defeated. “Where are you guys headed?”

Jeonghan points at you accusingly. “This one tricked me into buying her dinner earlier.”

“I did not!” you gasp. “You walked into that one, stop blaming me for the consequences of your actions! Also, I want ramen, which means we’re going off campus, so you’re driving.”

He narrows his eyes at you as he reaches for his car keys. “You are so evil.”

"Takes one to know one, Hannie."

What throws you off is the way Joshua’s eyes flit between the both of you as you bicker, the way he tells you to have fun in that singsong voice of his as you step back out into the cold, like he knows something you don’t. 

You still remember the day you first met him, when Jeonghan left to go grab something after introducing the two of you, and the question that immediately followed.

“Are you guys together or something?”

And of course, Joshua meant no harm — nobody ever does, when they ask something like that. You and Jeonghan have been fielding questions like that since the start of your friendship. Everyone’s wanted to know exactly what it is that you are to each other, and the answer has always come without missing a beat.

Friends, you’ve always said. 

Friends in the way that you can’t go anywhere alone in your hometown without being asked where the other one is, the way that your parents always set out an extra plate and ask if he’s joining for dinner as usual.

The right word for it would be ‘inseparable’. Sometimes, though, you wonder if that’s all that it is. 

Like now, as you notice the cold has Jeonghan trembling next to you. His teeth are chattering, long lashes framing his eyes that are now narrowed in displeasure. 

When you unravel your scarf from around your neck and reach to drape it around his, they go wide in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“You never wear enough layers, idiot.” You tuck the ends into his jacket and the way he’s staring at you steals the breath out of your lungs. 

You can’t run from the fact; your best friend is undeniably attractive. It’s a simple truth, down to his soft but sharp features, the slope of his cheeks, and the hair that frames his face so perfectly. It’s dark out, but Jeonghan’s eyes are lit up like stars. You don’t even realize it until you start to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” he says with a faint smile. “What would I do without you?”

“Freeze, probably,” you reply flippantly, but you look away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze on you.

Just think about the way he looks at you, Y/N.

Was Yeonju right? You have no way of knowing, and you don’t want to tip the scales by bringing any of it up now.

“Alright, let’s go,” you say instead, tugging him along to the parking lot. “It’s late, I’m hungry, and you promised.”

“Why do you always seem so excited to drain my bank account?”

“It’s my favorite hobby,” you quip. “Shall we go?”

“We shall, m’lady,” he says as you get to his car, pulling open the door for you with a wink. Your cheeks burn as you get in, his defined features etched into your brain.

Yes, he’s your dearest, oldest friend, but Yoon Jeonghan has a certain way of making your head spin that throws that very title into question.

when half of me is gone, how can i live as one?

PRESENT DAY

It’s been exactly three days since Jeonghan called you, and you haven’t heard from him since then. You don’t know what you were expecting. Another call? A text? 

No, it would be quite stupid to hope for such things after everything that’s happened.

It’s a quiet Monday night, and your brain decides to take an involuntary trip down memory lane. Ten years ago today, you’d probably be doing homework frantically, most definitely an assignment you’d put off until the night of. Ten years ago today, Jeonghan would be by your side. 

Oh, how some things change over time. 

After another hour of mindless TV and doing whatnot on your phone, your conscience finally wins the moral battle against your pride, and you scroll down through your call log again. Taking a deep breath, you decide to call him back before your brain can convince you otherwise.

All the words evaporate out of your mouth when he picks up on the first ring. 

“Y/N?”

God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. Just the sound of your name from him is enough to make you tear up.

“... Jeonghan?”

Silence. After a few seconds your heart sinks, thinking maybe he’s hung up on you and gone radio silent yet again. 

Then you hear it, just barely whispered into the phone: “I’ve missed you.”

Those words tug at your heart so badly you press your eyes closed to prevent your tears from welling up. “Jeonghan, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a year,” you cut him off. “A year, Jeonghan. Do you really think you can just ‘I miss you’ your way back into my life whenever you want?” 

“Don’t say that,” he implores. “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. I mean it.”

“I’ve heard the exact same line from you so many times,” you tell him, the rest of your words dying in your throat. 

You have many more things to say to him, so many unspoken feelings, but now doesn’t feel like the time. Instead, you swallow your anger like you’ve done every time he finds his way back into your life.

“How… how have you been?”

“I’m okay. I wrote a new song,” he says lightly. “Shows have been pretty alright, things are looking up… just the usual.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay, too.” A blatant lie. “Jeonghan… why’d you call me on Friday?”

“Oh,” he starts, like he’s surprised you even asked. “Um, I’m actually in town for a bit, so… I was just wondering if you wanted to meet and catch up again. Y’know, like old times.”

It’s the flippant edge in his voice that stings more than anything else, as if he doesn’t care that your friendship hasn’t been the same for years. Do you mean that little to him now?

But, like always, you have a hard time saying no to Yoon Jeonghan.

“Okay,” you agree. “Just tell me where, I guess. And when.”

“Okay.”

It’s not for a few seconds that you realize your cheeks are wet. Jeonghan feels so far away now, the distance hurts like a piercing pain and you have to slap a hand over your mouth so he doesn’t hear you sob against your couch, the stoic wall you put up crumbling away with every passing moment.

“Y/N,” his voice is shaky now. “Y/N, please don’t cry.”

Feeling caught and cornered, your brain enters fight or flight mode, and promptly chooses the latter. “I’m not,” you blurt out, and immediately end the call, tossing your phone across the room so you aren’t tempted to call him again.

If time traveling was an option, you’d go back to a decade in the past without a question. For some reason it hurts more that after all this time, Yoon Jeonghan is still the one that knows you the best.

You wake up the next morning horribly late for work, with a blinding headache and a notification from Jeonghan on your phone.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: is tonight @ semicolon cafe ok with you? after you get off work?

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i won’t take up too much of ur time, i promise

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m so sorry y/n

you: its ok. that works, see u then

It’s well past nine o’clock when you finally enter the office. You almost make it to your desk unnoticed until your boss glances at you sneaking in.

“You’re very late,” Seungcheol observes, leaning back in his chair. His gaze is always stern, and today it makes you even more anxious than usual.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “Things just… everything kind of worked against me today. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he says, casting another concerned look at you as you nearly drop your laptop going to your desk. “Is everything okay, Y/N? This really isn’t like you.”

“Yeah,” you lie through a tight smile. Damn Yoon Jeonghan and his stupid face for ruining your whole day. “Everything’s fine.”

Looking back, it’s quite impressive how you manage to keep your composure throughout your whole workday. You know you’ve accomplished a feat when even Junhui doesn’t really notice anything’s wrong. 

Despite how oblivious he comes across at first, your colleague is easily one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met, as you’ve learned in the past five years you’ve spent at this company.

“Long day?” Junhui swivels around in his chair as he catches you taking a break from your screen.

“Yeah,” you admit, glancing at the clock. Almost five. “Even longer when we get asked to fix all of the intern’s mistakes. How do you just forget to write a whole method?!”

“God, I hope Lee Chan never gets hired as a backend developer. Love the kid, but I’m not sure how he got through college with his code looking like this.”

“Hard agree.”

“Hey, do you have plans after? Me and the rest of the team are probably gonna get dinner together. None of the interns,” he clarifies with a grin. “We need some peace and quiet. I think Wonwoo’s genuinely at his final straw, he’s been downstairs with them all day.”

As tempting as that sounds — Junhui has a knack for finding the best spots in Seoul — you have something more important on your plate for the day.

“Maybe next time,” you decline. “I have to meet someone after work.”

“Oh?” A sly grin spreads across his face. “Someone special?”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, face heating up.

“I never asked if it was, Y/N, you’re just outing yourself at this point.”

“It’s not!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teases, turning back around. “Keep me posted!”

You roll your eyes.

The end of the day couldn’t have come any slower. Usually, you’d get so engrossed in whatever you were working on that you’d end up staying late, but today you shock everyone by packing up when the clock hits five, bidding Junhui a good night as you almost run to leave the building.

(“Someone’s in a rush,” he remarks when you turn your computer off. “Don’t be late on a first date, it’s not very polite!”

“Fuck off,” you respond, when Seungcheol is safely out of earshot.)

The walk home almost freezes your fingertips, and you have to shove your hands deep into your pockets to keep them from going numb. You make a note to dress accordingly for the biting cold later.

At least the weather matches your mood today.

The idea of a hot shower turns out to be a little too inviting, though, because when you finally step out, hair wrapped in a towel, it’s 6:28, and you have a text from Jeonghan waiting to be opened.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m here, i snagged a table in the back

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, pulling on an old sweater and some jeans. You don’t have time to fully dry your hair, so you just run your round brush through it a couple of times, hope for the best, and throw it into a claw clip, praying it stays up.

You’re officially twenty minutes late when you finally get to the cafe — it’s not too far from your apartment, thankfully, but you still had to book it — and you approach Jeonghan slightly panting and out of breath. 

(If Junhui was right and this was actually a date, you would be royally screwed.)

“Here, sit,” he pulls out your chair, a little alarmed by your flushed face. “Were you running?”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late,” you answer, and then you look up at him and the air is knocked out of your lungs as if you weren’t already winded from getting there. He’s even more beautiful than the last time you saw him. “Wow, you…”

“I?”

You’re not even sure what the rest of that sentence was going to be, the words slipping out before you could even think about them. Snap out of it. 

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“How have you been?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I want to know more.” He’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize your features; it’s hard to ignore. 

“I don’t have anything interesting going on,” you deflect. “Tell me about what’s going on with you. You said you wrote a new song?”

Jeonghan’s face lights up when you say it. “I did. I spent around nine months rewriting and perfecting it. It’s kind of like my child, in a way.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, a father. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs, and it feels like a part of your old selves is back. “Want to listen?”

You nod, and he passes you an AirPod and his phone. “Imperfect Love,” you read out loud. “That’s deep.”

“It came from a pretty raw place,” he confesses. “Something that’s kind of been on my mind for a while.”

“Something or someone?”

Jeonghan’s face reflects something akin to panic. “What are you talking about?”

“This seems like a song about unrequited love,” you deadpan. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Well, it’s not,” he huffs. “Don’t assume things.”

“This is the kind of update I was waiting for. You didn’t tell me you’d found someone!”

“I didn’t!” he insists, concealing a smile. “Will you just stop asking questions and listen already?”

“Alright, Mr. Unlucky in Love,” you tease, securing the AirPod in your ear and pressing play.

The instrumentals are beautiful, and Jeonghan’s angelic voice fills your ears a few seconds later. You haven’t heard him sing in a long time, and you’d forgotten just how ethereal he sounds when he’s pouring his heart into the mic.

The sunlight that happily illuminates this dark world 

Becomes a star when night comes

Come down to me

There are many, many things shining in this world

But among them, you’re the only one that’s precious to me

Jeonghan is watching you nervously, like he’s anxious for what you will say. You make the mistake of catching his eyes, because immediately you falter — they are gorgeous, he is gorgeous, and it feels like you lose time with every second you spend admiring him.

Even if I can’t be the perfect weather for you

Will you still love me like this?

It feels like a silent plea — you wonder what kinds of things have happened to him in the past year that you missed, all the things you don’t know about. 

Together we become old and worn out

Even if you come to me, who’s useless

At the end of a shining day

I’m happy that it’s you every day

The song comes to an end, and you hand Jeonghan’s phone back to him. His eyebrows raise, like a question.

“Did you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him honestly. “I love it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m still convinced you have a secret crush that you’re not telling me about.”

“Oh, not with that again,” he grumbles, waving off your curious questions. 

What you don’t tell him is that you’ve missed hearing him sing and watching him perform, that the look in his eyes when he’s doing what he loves most is something you adore. There are a lot of things like that you want to say to him, and as good as the both of you are at acting like nothing’s wrong, the situation feels awfully different this time.

“Hey.” Jeonghan has a glint in his eye, the one he usually has when he’s up to something. “Do you wanna leave and go get tteokbokki and fried dumplings at the night market stands instead?”

Your favorites, from when you were a broke college student and couldn’t afford anything nicer. How did he still remember that?

“Yeah,” you say, already grabbing your things and standing. “Let’s go.”

You had forgotten that it was cold as fuck outside.

You had also forgotten that the food stalls were in the opposite direction of your house, so now you’re stuck walking twice the distance in the freezing weather. 

“Are you warm enough?” Jeonghan asks, a bit worried. Stop looking out for me, you want to scream at him. Stop caring. Stop making such a fool out of me.

“I am, but I know you’re not,” you scold instead. “I’ve been telling you for years to dress for the weather.”

“Eh, what’s a little bit of cold?” he jokes, but you catch him shivering violently out of the corner of your eye, and you can’t just watch as he suffers.

“Here.” You pull your scarf off of your neck and hold it out to him. “Wear it.”

“Are you su—”

“Wear it before I take it back.”

You wait until Jeonghan’s listened to you, the warm fabric wrapped around his neck. A part of you thinks you’ll always feel the urge to look after him.

Stop it.

“You still haven’t told me about yourself,” Jeonghan starts hesitantly. “I know I’ve probably missed a lot of things in the past few years.”

“Eight years,” you correct him. “We graduated and then you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear, things just got really hectic,” he tries to explain. “Like, all of a sudden everything was on my shoulders, and I had to spend all my time working towards what I wanted. That or it was all just gonna go to waste.”

“Right,” you leave it at that, not wanting to start an argument on the road. This always happens — you’ll run into Jeonghan somehow, you’ll somewhat reconcile, fight, make up, and then it’s radio silence from him again. A year after you graduated college, you stopped looking for news articles on him entirely, actively avoiding any headlines with his name in them. It hurt a little too much to bear. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You suck in a breath at the quick response. 

“Yeonju’s doing well,” you start, even though he probably knows that already. “She has a cat now, actually. She adopted him a couple of months ago.”

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Mandu, because she says he’s round and fat like a dumpling.”

Jeonghan snorts. “That’s like when Josh told us his dog’s name was Bingsu.”

“Oh, I remember that,” you say, faintly reminded of his college roommate. “Um, there’s not much else, honestly. Junhui is still a major pain in my ass, that definitely hasn’t changed.”

“Your work friend, right? I thought you two got along pretty well?”

“Yeah, we do,” you admit. You don’t need to explain any further, because Jeonghan knows that your sarcastic remarks are reserved for those you cherish the most.

“It’s been a really long time since you introduced us,” he muses. “But I still remember him pretty clearly.”

He remembers you, too, you think to yourself, recounting all the times you’ve ranted to Junhui about all the times Jeonghan got on your very last nerve. Just not as fondly.

“Oh! Wonwoo actually joined the same company two years ago. I think I told you this already,” Jeonghan confirms with a nod, “But it’s really nice getting to see him again, I missed when we used to hang out in college.”

“Aw, that must be really nice.”

“And the three of us still work for Seungcheol,” you conclude.

“I remember him, too. The one with the huge ass biceps,” Jeonghan says, a bit miffed. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”

“He doesn’t like randoms coming in during work hours, which is what you did, Han.”

“Oh. Right.”

Despite his short response, you know Jeonghan is smiling to himself right now, and you kick yourself mentally for letting the decades-old nickname slip. The two of you may be on a truce right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgiven him.

A few minutes later, the lanterns and lights of the night market come into view. A little piece of childhood memory burrows its way into your heart. The vendors and stalls may have changed, but you used to love visiting this street with Jeonghan when you were still students. 

“I really feel so old right now,” Jeonghan remarks as he follows you through the narrow walkways. “I feel like the last time I’ve been here was when we were eighteen.”

“It probably was,” you say. “Oh! Tteokbokki!”

You don’t even realize the way you’re holding on to the sleeve of Jeonghan’s sweater as you pull him along with you in excitement. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles to himself as he walks behind you.

“Two cups, please,” you request the vendor when you finally get to the cart, and reach for your wallet. Jeonghan stops you before you can get to your pocket.

“No way,” he says firmly. “This one’s on me.”

“Jeonghan.”

“That voice isn’t working on me this time.” He hands the vendor a couple of bills with a friendly smile. “Just let me buy dinner tonight.”

You cross your arms. “No.”

“Why not? You had no problem doing it back in college.”

“Don’t bring that up now,” you say sharply, stung by the familiar memory. Jeonghan senses the shift in your attitude and drops the subject immediately.

“Wait here,” he tells you. “I’ll be back in a second.”

What are you supposed to do with yourself? Oh, you’re a mess, you realize, the way your feelings haven’t been in check for the entire evening. You were supposed to be so calm and collected, and now you’re anything but.

“Here you go,” the vendor hands you two steaming cups of the spicy rice cakes. “One for you, one for your friend.”

“Thank you.”

The man nods towards Jeonghan, making his way back through the sea of people. “Never let go of someone who cherishes you that much,” he says offhandedly, stirring the tteok in the pot.

You just blink, confused. “What?”

Before the vendor can answer, Jeonghan’s already caught up to you again. “There was nobody in line for fried dumplings,” he tells you excitedly. “Here, have some.”

“Thanks,” you say as you exchange with him for the tteokbokki, ignoring the awkward encounter you’ve just had. “We should probably get out of the way and find somewhere to sit down.”

“Yeah, we should.”

There are a few benches at the corner of the street, and you pick the empty one under one of the streetlamps, a hazy yellow glow cast over it. Sitting down, you bite into the first dumpling, the flavor flooding into your mouth.

“Jeonghan.”

“Yes?”

“Is this shrimp?”

“Yes?” He looks adorably confused in the dim light. “You prefer seafood over pork, right?”

Your heart feels like it’s beating at double the pace. “I do,” you reassure him. “It’s really good. Thank you.”

“Try the tteokbokki, too, it’s just the right level of spicy.”

“I will.”

Just being there and enjoying the food in silence reminds you of how easy it is to just be around Jeonghan. There’s no pressure to break the quiet; it’s comforting and peaceful. 

You watch him savor the tteokbokki sauce and smile to yourself when he winces slightly. He’s always had less of a spice tolerance than you.

“Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to vanish on me again when you leave Seoul?”

The question stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t seem to have the words to answer, and the lack of a response makes your heart sink.

“Why are you thinking about that right now?” he says instead, chiding you gently. “Did you finish eating?”

The way you’re looking at him now, your eyes are imploring him. Please don’t make me empty promises again. 

“It’s rude to answer a question with another question.”

Jeonghan rakes a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I’ve never vanished, Y/N, it’s just hard for me to leave my work that often,” he insists, “and besides, you’ve got Junhui and Yeonju and Wonwoo to entertain you in the meantime —”

“None of them are you!” Several people passing by glance over at you, but you can’t help that your voice is rising when you feel the anger bubbling up. “You’re my best friend, Jeonghan, do you have any idea how hard it’s been doing life without you?”

“Y/N, we’re past our youth,” he tries reasoning with you. “We don’t have to be attached at the hip all the time.”

Every word he says is like a knife to your chest. “You shouldn’t have asked to meet up today, then.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jeonghan shuts his eyes, trying to think of the right words. “I just can’t be there for you all the time in the way that you want anymore. You’re stable, you have a solid job, but my livelihood depends on my music and whether people like me or not. That’s the harsh truth of it. And I’m not getting any younger, either.”

“I’m not asking you to be there for me all the time,” you snap. “All I ever wanted was the occasional message. A few updates. Whether you’re doing okay, how your life is going, things like that. Don’t give me bullshit excuses. I know you have thirty seconds to text me back letting me know that you’re alive.”

And stop playing with my heart, you want to add. Whether you’re aware of it or not.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan swears under his breath. “Y/N, let’s calm down and talk about this inside —”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Yoon Jeonghan.” Your fists are clenched right now. Jeonghan knows this about you; you don’t get angry quite often, but when you do, you are a force to be reckoned with. “It’s always a goddamn cycle with you. You show up, make all these promises, and then abandon me again. What am I supposed to do with that?”

You’re on the verge of tears, but you can’t cry in front of him. Anywhere but here.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he pleads with you. “I don’t know what more to say other than I’ve been trying my best, I really have been.”

You’re not having any of it. “Yeah, right,” you scoff, averting your eyes so you have time to blink the tears away. 

“I mean it. I want to be there for you, but…” he trails off, voice shaky. “It’s just been so difficult.”

“Save it, Jeonghan.” You don’t think you can be here for a minute longer without totally breaking down. “I should really get going now.”

“Y/N, wait —”

“If you took the subway, there’s a station down that street if you keep walking for a few minutes.”

“Wait,” Jeonghan insists, standing. “Let me at least walk you home.”

“No need,” you retort, turning around and setting off towards your apartment. It’s even colder now that it’s completely dark out, and you start to regret your choice of coat as your teeth chatter quietly. All you can do is thug it out for the remaining three blocks to your apartment building.

The wind stings your eyes and you tear up anyway, despite your attempts to keep it down for now. Why did you think today was going to go any better than every other time this has happened? 

Stupid. Your fault for thinking anything would have changed in eight years. 

It’s not until you approach the entrance to your building that you hear the quiet shuffling of footsteps. You whirl around, ready to fight, but you stop short when you see Jeonghan standing several feet behind you.

“Just to make sure you got back okay,” he says quietly, walking over to you. You accept gingerly when he places your scarf back in your hands. “It’s late.”

You don’t even know how to feel; you’re too high-strung with too many lines of thought in your brain at the same time. “Thank you.”

“One more thing.” Jeonghan hands you a small plastic bag. You peer inside.

“What is this?”

“Tiramisu,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

“Oh,” you’re confused. “Why?”

It should make you even more furious that he has the audacity to give you a soft smile, but for some reason it doesn’t.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

The realization hits you belatedly — how did you manage to forget? — that you were so swamped with work commitments, it had totally slipped your mind today. (So that was why your phone had been constantly buzzing with notifications from Yeonju before you’d put it on silent.) 

Jeonghan’s gesture, though, comes as a complete surprise, and it starts to dissipate the irritation from earlier.

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I never forgot.”

just friends, that's not enough for me

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Normally, you are not someone who is criminally inclined. 

However, it’s currently five in the morning on a day where you don’t have class until noon, so whoever is calling you at this time is most definitely going to end up six feet under.

You answer without checking who it is first, eyes still closed. “Hello?” 

“Happy birthday!”

“Huh?” You lift your head just to be sure you heard correctly. “Yoon Jeonghan, it’s five a.m!”

“I know!”

“Why are you awake?”

“To tell you happy birthday?”

“Thank you, but cut the crap,” you tell him.

“I pulled an all-nighter to finish a project,” he admits. “Worth it, though. I’m the first person who told you, right?”

“You keep forgetting I live with Yeonju,” you point out, glancing over at your sleeping roommate.

“Damn it, Choi Yeonju!”

You grimace at his loud exclamation. “Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and let me go back to sleep.”

“Okay, but I’m waking you up at ten so you don’t skip your linear algebra class.”

“That class is at noon!”

“Yeah, and you take centuries to get ready, dumbass.”

When ten o’clock does roll around, you’re wide awake already. Yeonju is still fast asleep, so you try to get ready for class as quietly as possible.

jeonghan: i’m outside ur building

jeonghan: hurry up i’m hungry

you: ??? when u said u were gonna wake me up i thought u meant u would call

jeonghan: uhh surprise?

“Are you serious,” you mutter under your breath, haphazardly throwing an outfit on and rushing downstairs. Quickly, you press your key card against the reader and push the door open to the sight of Jeonghan leaning against the side wall.

“How long were you waiting?” 

“Long enough. God, you really take forever, but I guess you get a pass because it’s your birthday,” he says begrudgingly, gesturing for you to walk with him.

The weather is quite bleak, but the slight smile on Jeonghan’s face is enough to chase the dreary atmosphere away, like your very own sun.

“Did you sleep at all?” you question, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I tried, but by the time I finished the project it was already seven and Joshua was up, so I just didn’t bother. That guy’s a freak, I’m telling you. I don’t know anybody else who wakes up that early just to go to the gym.”

“Well, you don’t go at all. Maybe that’s why he has those nice muscles and you don’t.”

Jeonghan’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Are you kidding? Is this why you keep coming over? To ogle Joshua Hong’s arms?”

“Yeah, cause Joshua Hong is my best friend,” you deadpan. “Is it such a crime to just appreciate a nice set of muscles?”

“Okay, okay, stop talking about Josh when you’re with me and get in the car,” he urges, fishing out his keys. “Or we’ll be late and you won’t make it to that class.”

“I don’t even go half the time,” you point out. “And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“What I can do is promise you will be happy and fed by approximately half past eleven.” Jeonghan starts the car, adjusting his mirrors. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Deal.”

It strikes you then, beneath the dim sunshine, how good he looks when he’s driving. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on the road, humming along to the song playing through Bluetooth. For all the jokes you throw at him for never being seen at the gym, his arms are quite toned, subtly flexed as he makes a turn with one hand on the wheel.

God, you are so done for.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan pulls into a relatively empty lot. The building is quite unassuming, but you recognize this cafe as the one you frequent during exam season for your coffee fix.

“I love this place!” you exclaim, beaming at him. “How did you know?”

“‘Cause you never shut up about it,” he quips back, grinning.. “Stay here, I’ll just be a minute.”

You hum quietly to yourself as you wait for him to come back, content where you are. There couldn’t have been a better start to your day, aside from Jeonghan’s early morning call, and you think you’d be happy to spend the day just like this, peacefully with him and your closest friends.

In truth, you aren’t really sure how to navigate things with Jeonghan at the moment. Your relationship has always been labeled as strictly platonic, but lately there have been things that make you want to think otherwise. A few stolen glances, the way he looks out for you a little extra… you think you’re going insane. 

That, and the way your heart has been reacting when you make eye contact with him lately has been a bit unsettling.

(“Don’t be so delusional,” Yeonju had told you a week ago. “You have a lot to lose here if anything happens. Plus, it’s Yoon Jeonghan, everyone thinks he’s flirting with them.”

“Yeah,” you’d replied flatly. “You’re right.”)

But maybe you’re allowed to be a little selfish. Maybe those sunlit smiles and most vulnerable moments are memories reserved just for you.

The car door opens again, and Jeonghan pokes his head in, handing you a plastic bag as he gets in. 

“Sustenance,” is all he says. “Eat before you go to class or I’ll have to deal with your hangry whining after.”

His words sound annoyed, but his tone is soft with you, like it usually is. You flash him a grateful smile before pulling the boxes out.

“What’s this?”

“Avocado toast, but yours has egg on it.” He wrinkles his nose with displeasure at the combination. “Plus a little sweet treat for your caffeine addiction.”

“This is beautiful,” you hold up the tiramisu box. “The caffeine is speaking to me, Hannie. We are one and the same.”

“One would think you’re on drugs.”

“One would think living with a chemistry major would teach you that caffeine is a drug,” you tease, sinking your teeth into the golden toast. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now — maybe you shouldn’t have skipped dinner last night. “Wow, this is good.”

“It is,” Jeonghan agrees, “but I’ll stick with no eggs for now.”

“You’re just ignorant and have bad taste.”

“Again, free pass only because it’s your birthday.” Jeonghan waits for you to swallow, then asks, “So, does twenty-one feel any different?”

“Nope,” you say decidedly. “Why would it? The only thing that’s changed is that drinking is legal now.”

“Oh, and you can gamble.”

“Right, but I don’t have enough savings to do that.”

Jeonghan laughs to himself at a stray memory. “Remember when I turned twenty-one? I’ve never had a night more disastrous than that one.”

“I do remember! Anyone would assume you were a raging alcoholic,” you snicker. “Even Soonyoung felt the need to sober up and help me get you back to your place. Do you know how impossible that is for him?”

Jeonghan looks like he’s questioning his whole life. “Yeah, that is pretty bad,” he admits. “Good thing it hasn’t happened since and I’m a responsible alcohol enjoyer now.”

“You drank a whole bottle of soju before your exam last week because you ‘needed to pregame’ or you’d fail it.”

“... Right.”

The two of you eat in silence, careful not to drop crumbs in his car, enjoying the midday quiet with each other’s company and nothing else. It’s moments like these with him that you cherish the most.

Yeonju’s Don’t be so delusional echoes in your head, like a silent rebuke.

“Hey, we should start heading back,” Jeonghan says, glancing at the time. “Let this be the day that Y/N graces the lecture hall with her presence.”

You groan, not wanting to spend another hour and a half trying not to doze off listening to who is possibly the most boring professor at your entire university. Jeonghan pats your back empathetically.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you, “Just think about how you’ll feel later when it’s all over and done with.”

“I’ll feel like it was a huge waste of time and I could have just asked Wonwoo to catch me up,” you grumble. 

Jeonghan’s smile falters a little bit at the mention of your classmate, one of Soonyoung’s friends and therefore a part of the friend group. You still can’t figure out why Jeonghan isn’t too fond of him, but you  just assume they haven’t had the opportunity to connect as much and brush it off.

“He got me through data structures last semester,” you offer, trying to defend your point. “Or I’d probably have failed.”

“Right, I remember,” Jeonghan says absentmindedly. You don’t say anything more until you’re back on campus again, picking up on his sensitive mood. When you start making your way to your lecture hall, he follows you, and you let him.

“I’ll walk you to class, I have to print something out at the student center, anyways,” he explains, bag on one shoulder. “Also, you left this in the car. Eat it after class, or whenever.”

You take the plastic bag he hands you, the faint scent of coffee filling your nose. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan fills your ears with silly stories about his friends over the short walk and you listen carefully, always happy to hear about the boys. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them anyways; you’ve been swamped with work, and time that all of you have free together is quite rare.

“I should go in now,” you tell him when you reach the hall. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you might as well, and Jeonghan can easily read the annoyance written on your face. He pats your shoulder gently.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you. “Come over later so we can all eat cake and listen to you rant about your god-awful professor.”

“Okay.”

“And so you can get an eyeful of Joshua’s arms, you freaking pervert.”

You gasp. “Am not!” you screech, punching his arm.

“Ow!”

“Take it back!”

“Not afraid to speak my truth,” Jeonghan says instead, feigning injury. “This is literally abuse.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out.”

“Go in.”

“Fine,” you huff, pulling open the double doors, but you look back over your shoulder before you let them close behind you. “See you later?”

Jeonghan nods, a twinkle in his eye. 

(You won’t know it now, but this is the look on his face that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.) 

 “See you later.”

Choi Yeonju is, you discover, the lightweight of all lightweights.

That title had belonged to Soonyoung up until now, but tonight even he’s watching her in disbelief from where he’s perched on Joshua and Jeonghan’s couch.

“I only gave her a shot,” he promises you, eyes big and pleading. “I swear on my life.”

“I know,” you sigh, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her away from the wall she’s about to faceplant into. “It’s okay, I’ve got an eye on her.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung offers sheepishly. “I know you were planning on getting wasted tonight.”

You were not, in fact, planning on that at all. “Who told you that?”

“Jeonghan?”

“That evil bastard.”

The evil bastard in question is currently deeply immersed in a card game with a couple of others at the small kitchen table. The subtle flush on his face tells you he’s a couple of drinks in, and if you squint enough, you can see the silhouette of cards hidden in the sleeve of his jacket. Typical.

“Y/N!” Yeonju taps your shoulder urgently. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

She grins. “I wanna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, come on. You gotta stand up,” you inform her gently when she doesn’t budge from her spot on the sofa.

“Comfy,” is all she says, mumbling into the furniture.

“Do you still need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

Soonyoung just looks at you in total confusion and shrugs. 

“Nothing to do about it until she asks again,” he says before sinking into the couch beside her. He still looks relatively sober — sober enough to handle the situation if Yeonju decides to walk into a wall again — so you tell him you’ll be right back and decide to check in on the game going on.

You walk in on a crime scene.

“You!” Seungkwan throws an accusing finger at Jeonghan, who you can tell is playing innocent through his surprised expression. “You rigged the game!”

“I didn’t do anything! I won fair and square!”

“Count the cards,” Seungkwan tells Wonwoo vengefully. “There won’t be fifty-two, I’m telling you!”

Jeonghan stands suddenly, laying his hand on the table. Everyone else is too busy yelling amongst themselves, and Wonwoo seems to be content with watching them argue, but you catch the way Jeonghan slips the cards in his sleeve into the pile unassumingly.

“Excuse me, boys,” he says smugly, “but I’m going to go on a little victory walk. Don’t mind me, enjoy!”

Seungkwan grumbles, but lets him go in favor of helping Seokmin back into the chair he’s just fallen off of. In the meantime, Jeonghan sidles up to you, faintly smelling of tequila.

“You seem very sober,” he observes.

“I am,” you laugh. “Not entirely, but sober enough to notice the cards you stashed during the game.”

Jeonghan’s face morphs into one of surprise, then mirth. “Shh,” he winks, placing a finger on your lips. That alone short-circuits your brain, so you nearly miss his next words. “It can be our little secret.”

“Oh, you are tipsy tipsy,” you murmur, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’re up for that victory walk you were talking about.”

“I am! I’m so up for it,” he announces, tucking his arm in yours. “Let’s go take a walk outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“What’s four plus four?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ninety-two,” he says sarcastically. “Please, I’m not a lightweight like the rest of our friends.”

You cast a glance at the couch; Soonyoung has been roped into listening into whatever story Yeonju’s telling him very animatedly, sitting attentively with his back unnaturally straight. He looks a little scared of her energetic narration, which is a first for someone like him.

They should be fine, right? You don’t plan on being gone for long — usually you wouldn’t think twice about leaving Soonyoung and Yeonju together, but in their current state you’re not sure how chaotic they’ll get.

“They’ll be fine.” Jeonghan mirrors your thoughts as if he’s read your mind. His voice feels a little too close, like his lips are right by your ear. Too close, too close — you’re faintly aware of your breathing accelerating, heart running on sheer adrenaline.

By the time you snap out of it, he’s already at the door, turning to find you when he realizes you’re not next to him. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage before you grab your coat off the hook and follow him out the door. A part of you wishes Yeonju was sober so she could slap the delusion out of you.

Jeonghan opts for the stairs — “We’re only on the second floor!” — and is waiting patiently at the main door for you. The smile he greets you with is blinding, and his eyes crinkle a little more when you return it. 

“Did you bring your keys?”

“Right here.” Jeonghan pats his pocket reassuringly and pulls the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you laugh, reveling in the moment. 

It’s windy outside, and you glance over at Jeonghan, satisfied to see that he’s dressed warmly for once. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and for a man his size, his thick sweater is draped over his body in a way that makes him look a little smaller. It’s adorable, and it just makes you want to reach over and squish his cheeks.

“You’re awfully quiet for a man who just won a game against Boo Seungkwan,” you tease gently. Jeonghan chuckles, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Nothing new,” he says. “Seungkwan just has bad strategy and won’t admit it.”

“Or you just enjoy cheating a little too much.”

He gives you a knowing smile. “Touché.”

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going; you don’t think Jeonghan does, either, but the two of you fall in step together perfectly on the sidewalk. It’s not too late yet, maybe nine or ten, and the streets are relatively crowded, as expected for a college city.

“Do you think we’ll be really different when we’re thirty?”

You look at Jeonghan, a bit surprised at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Like, we’re twenty-one now,” he explains, “Remember when we were sixteen? We had so many ideas about what we were gonna be, and we’re already there. Five years passed so quickly.”

You nod, reminiscent of your childhood days. “We’re gonna hit thirty before we know it.”

“Do you think I’ll be bald by thirty?”

“If you are, I’ll take lots of pictures of you and your shiny head,” you joke. “For memories.”

“Noo, not my hair,” Jeonghan laments theatrically. “My gorgeous, gorgeous hair.”

You can’t even counter that, because it’s true: Jeonghan must have won the gene pool because his hair has always been soft and silky. It’s longer now than it used to be, curling a little bit just under his ears and brushing the back of his neck.

“Soonyoung’s been campaigning for you to go platinum blond,” you inform him. “He keeps saying if you do it, he’ll dye his whole head bright yellow.”

“Highlighter Soonyoung is really not something I want to see.”

The more the wind picks up, the tighter Jeonghan has his arm looped around yours. His lips are pursed, like he’s preoccupied with something else.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Are we still gonna be friends when we’re thirty years old?”

The subtle, vulnerable tone in his voice surprises you a little bit. Drunk words are sober thoughts, you suppose.

You try to cheer him up, saying, “Why, did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “Everything is so much easier with you.”

Don’t be delusional, don’t be delusional, is the mantra in your head as you attempt to ignore your rapid heartbeat. The truth is that you agree — the way Jeonghan just gets you makes things so uncomplicated and free.

It’s been this way since middle school, when twelve-year-old you found home in the boy who always helped you sneak snacks from your desk during class when the teacher wasn’t watching. 

Jeonghan has always been the first person you think of in a sticky situation; he’s always been reliable, above all, because he knows you would do the same for him without even needing to think about it. He’s been by your side for so long, you can’t even picture what a life without him would look like now.

Your next words would never see the light of day had Jeonghan been sober, but you suppose you can get away with erring on the side of honesty.

“Me too,” you tell him quietly, holding onto him just a little bit tighter. “I like life a little better when it’s with you.”

because i love you, because saying i love you isn't enough

PRESENT DAY

The office is quiet when it’s late at night; there aren’t many people who enjoy staying past their stated hours, but you figure it can’t hurt to finish some additional tasks when you don’t really have much to go home to. You can’t remember the last time you had a day to yourself without worrying about deadlines; the lines of code haunt you in your sleep and fill every waking hour. Every night spent working overtime is a testament to your determination, though it crumbles it a little each time.

Today, though, you’re joined by Junhui and Wonwoo, the three of you working under the dim light. The rest of your team packed up and left hours ago, so it’s just you on this floor of the building.

“I feel like my eyes are melting in their sockets,” Junhui complains, stretching for the first time in what you think is a solid eight hours. “I don’t know how Wonwoo does it.”

“He’s a machine,” you joke. He’s got headphones on, most probably noise canceling, so you know he can’t hear you two. (Or he’s choosing not to.) “I just don’t want to go home with this stuff unfinished because I know I won’t stop thinking about it all night.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve pulled an all-nighter in the office.”

“Unfortunately.”

Junhui frowns. “You need to take time for yourself,” he expresses. You let him lecture you, even though he’s younger. “Do stuff that you enjoy that doesn’t involve writing code. You know, enrich your personal life.”

“Maybe,” you sigh, putting your head in your hands. “There’s barely any time as of now.”

“Speaking of personal lives, I still can’t believe you won’t tell me about your date,” he sulks. “You’ve always come back with stories about your dates.”

“There haven’t even been that many,” you say at the same time Wonwoo turns around with his headphones off of one ear, asking, “Date? Really?”

You give the man a look. “You didn’t hear us say your name, but that was what caught your attention?”

“Well, Jun’s always talking, but the last time you went on a date was two years ago, so this is news to me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Junhui reasons. “Everyone has bad dates. It’s a universal experience.”

“Okay, first of all, it was not a date,” you clarify. “I just met up with a friend from college.”

This piques Wonwoo’s interest. “Wait, really? Who?”

“Right, I keep forgetting you guys went to college together,” Junhui mutters under his breath.

“Did you see Yeonju again?”

“It was nobody,” you lie through your teeth, kicking yourself internally for your choice of words. As much as both men know about your ongoing tug-of-war situation with Jeonghan, you don’t really want to bring it up in conversation, and definitely not now of all times. “It went fine, just some catching up.”

“So it wasn’t a date?”

“You really need to stop believing everything Junhui tells you without fact checking it first.”

“Damn,” he says. “And we thought you were finally getting some action.”

“Wonwoo!”

The conversation is interrupted by the low rumble of your stomach in the few seconds of silence that pass afterwards. Both men turn to look at you expectantly.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Wonwoo volunteers, already reaching for his phone. “Is kimchi fried rice okay with you guys?”

“Fine by me.”

“With pork?” Junhui asks hopefully.

“Done.”

The three of you promptly get back to work, aiming to maximize the amount of work you get done before the food arrives and you inevitably break focus. By the time the delivery notification goes off on Wonwoo’s phone, you’ve knocked off about three quarters of your to-do list for the day.

Good enough, you reassure yourself, pulling the sticky note off of your desk and flicking it into the trash can. 

Junhui eats in a record time of ten minutes — you swear you’ve never seen him scarf down food this fast before — and starts packing up at his desk, dropping off a couple of notes on Seungcheol’s desk for tomorrow morning’s meeting.

“My girlfriend is going to be so upset if I’m not home soon,” he says ruefully, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Take care, guys! And thanks for dinner, Wonwoo, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

You and Wonwoo finish not too long after, and you take your time cleaning up the place, making sure everything is thrown away and in its place. 

“Are you ready to lock up and go?”

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

It’s not until you’re in the elevator, heading to the parking garage, that Wonwoo speaks up again. A little hesitantly at first, but the concern in his tone is still evident.

“Hey, has everything been good with you lately?”

“Hm?” You look at him curiously, wondering what it was that made him ask. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugs, looking down at you through thick-rimmed glasses. “Just haven’t checked in with you in a bit. Seungcheol’s needed me all over the place lately, so it’s been a while since I caught up with you guys.”

“Right, you’ve been in back to back meetings with the design team,” you muse. “Seolhwa was talking about how chaotic it’s been in the restroom earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty tough.”

The elevator opens with a ding! and you follow him out, fishing for your keys that are probably somewhere in one of your pockets.

“I parked a little far,” you tell him, “so I’ll get going now. But I’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting, right?”

Wonwoo just looks at you gently, like he’s seeing right through you. 

“Jeonghan’s the one you met up with, isn’t he?”

You freeze. “What?”

“I had a feeling, but it was a little more obvious when you started getting defensive,” he chuckles. “Plus, I think you forget I’ve known you for nearly a decade now.”

You allow yourself to breathe, relaxing the taut muscles in your neck. “I didn’t want to make it awkward,” you admit. “I know you said you guys still keep in touch sometimes. I don’t want to make it weird.”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows. “Just for birthdays and things like that. We weren’t really that close in college, either.”

Not really knowing what to say, you stay silent, eyes glued to the ground. He seems to sense this and drops the matter, reaching over to pat your shoulder.

“I won’t pry,” he says lightly, “But if you ever want to talk about it, just know you can always call up an old friend.”

You smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

“Take care, Y/N. Get home safe.”

The drive home is numbing. The playlist you have on dulls into background noise as you focus on the road, fighting the urge to yawn. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, and all you want is to be back in your bed.

At the back of your mind, all you can think about is the text you woke up to this morning.

yoon jeonghan: hey, i just wanted to tell you tomorrow is my last day in seoul 

yoon jeonghan: i don’t know if you want to see me or not, but i’ll be at semicolon cafe working for most of the day. pls drop by if you have some free time. i really miss you.

So typical of him, to leave it up to you to go find him. And yet, you would — if it came down to it, you would go to the ends of the earth if he asked you to. 

Yeonju would be furious if you told her you were even considering it, you scold yourself. After all, she’d only told you to speak to him once for your own peace of mind. Last week should have given you all the closure you needed. 

Still, your conscience is swayed at the idea of being able to see him again. 

You shake the thoughts out of your head, as if the subtle action could erase the pain and longing you’ve felt for the past eight years. 

The traffic light turns green. You step on the gas and don’t look back.

even if i can't be the perfect weather for you, will you still love me like this?

SIX YEARS AGO

Jeonghan has been in the studio for hours.

Nothing seems to sound right, and the frustration makes him want to pull his hair out. He can’t even remember the last time he got out of the chair, but he doesn’t want to lose even a little bit of whatever workflow he’s managed to maintain while he’s been in here.

Occasionally, when the weather is just a little dull and time seems to tick by too slowly, he wonders if he made the right choice. Maybe he should have stuck with his career, actually put his degree to use, instead of setting it aside in the name of passion.

He’s vocalized these thoughts to his manager many times, and Jihoon is awfully good at raising his spirits, but the self doubt seeping into his soul is very hard to ignore.

Reluctantly, he presses the play button again, whatever he’s conjured up in the last couple of hours playing in his headphones again. It doesn’t sound any better this time. 

Yes, he could swallow his pride and ask Jihoon for help, but after a year and a half of unsuccessful ventures in the music industry, he wants to be able to do something on his own.

Prove himself; to Jihoon, the world, and you.

Jeonghan will never forget your only words to him when he’d first revealed his plan to switch career paths, just a month or two before graduation. 

(“I always believe in you,” you’d said, following it up with a comforting hug. 

“Always?”

“Always.”)

And when you said that with such conviction, placing all of that trust and belief in his hands, he knew there was no way he could turn back on what he’d set his sights on. In truth, on days where things just seem so bleak, you are his strength, and he wishes he could tell you that.

But when your name comes through on his phone, he falters.

What is he supposed to say? All he can give is excuses, that nothing’s really worked, nothing has panned out in his favor yet. As it is, the two of you haven’t spoken that much since graduating, both of you occupied with your own goals and careers, and at times like these he feels your absence a little extra.

Is this what it means to grow up and grow apart?

For now, he ignores the buzzing, telling himself he’ll come back when he’s snagged his first real achievement. You’ll be proud of him, and he’ll finally make something of himself.

Jihoon walks into the room, closing the door quietly, right when he’s about to listen to the track for maybe the hundredth time.

“Oh, hey.” Jeonghan can hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “What’s up?”

“Wondering when the last time you slept was.” Jihoon sinks into the chair beside him, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like a zombie.”

“Yeah, I feel like one.”

“You need to spend less time in here,” Jihoon advises gently. “Or you’re going to lose your mind. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“I just can’t figure out what it is I’m missing,” Jeonghan sighs, evidently frustrated. “It’s like, almost there, but not really. It’s been killing me for days.”

“You know, these things do take time.”

“Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this and I should just go work for a news channel instead.”

Jihoon watches him carefully, picking up on his slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “And then you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you held on just a little bit longer. Do you really want that?”

Jeonghan doesn’t really know what else to say. He’s been hearing the same things from everyone around him — his parents, his sister; everyone talks of a future where he’s already succeeded, but that isn’t set in stone. Nothing is promised, he knows.

“I need a miracle,” he mumbles instead.

“You need to eat,” Jihoon corrects. “I just placed an order for dinner, and I know you like sundubu-jjigae, so you have no excuse to bail on me this time.”

Jeonghan considers this for a moment, then gives in. “Fine,” he says, “but I can’t stay too long.”

“Good.” Jihoon rises, and then places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard.”

“Thank you.”

He’s alone again, when the door closes behind the shorter man. It’s something he’s had to get used to; he’s learned to rely on himself over the past year or so, but when the reality of loneliness sinks in, it breaks his heart just a little. 

Even more so knowing that it’s his fault that he’s pushed everyone away, including you.

Your name is still burned into Jeonghan’s brain, and his fingers itch to respond, but he ignores the urge. His phone is left forgotten as he slips his headphones on again, tinkering with the unfinished track.

And the thought of you dissolves into the music.

we used to be best friends, i remember you said you can be yourself when i'm around

PRESENT DAY

Today is the day that Choi Seungcheol learns that you are full of surprises.

In all your five years of working for him, he’s never once had you call in sick for work or ask for a day off. You’ve always been hard-working, maybe too much at times, but he sounds like he definitely didn’t anticipate this.

“Oh,” is all he says when you request the morning off. “Yeah, sure. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really, but I will be before the client meeting at three, so I’ll be present for that.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

It weighs on your conscience that the first time you request time off also happens to be the first time you blatantly lie to your boss, but you’ve already deliberated this enough with Yeonju over call last night.

(“I’ve been such an honest worker,” you said dramatically, “and now I’m running all that to the ground.”

“Don’t be so theatrical. Choi Seungcheol can afford to give you half a day of paid leave.”)

Now that you’ve settled that, you grab your heavy winter coat, setting out into the morning cold. Damn Yoon Jeonghan for making you move your whole day around for him. You had predicted correctly that Yeonju would berate you for it — you sat through a lecture over the phone last night — but that hadn’t deterred your resolve to see him again.

Who knows? His behavior is so erratic that even you, who knew him like the back of your hand at one point, can’t predict him anymore. Today could very well be the last time you see him for another few years until he decides he has the time for you again.

Whatever, you huff to yourself as you walk briskly, knowing that as upset as you get, the soft spot you harbor for him will never go away.

You had worried that it would be a little too early, since it’s only eight in the morning, but you have no problem finding Jeonghan in the sea of caffeine-deprived corporate workers getting their fix in the small establishment. He’s engrossed in his laptop, and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you take the seat across from him, waiting for him to look up.

“Oh,” is all he says, pushing his screen down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I didn’t think I would, either.”

Jeonghan gives you a sorrowful look, hair fluffy like a halo around his face. “I’m trying, I really am.”

“Jeonghan —”

“I’m juggling so many things at once,” he says quietly. “And I never wanted you to think any less of me. I wanted you to be proud of me..”

“I was. I still am.”

“But I still haven’t done anything.” He sounds more agitated as he speaks. “I haven’t gotten anywhere, I’ve barely made a name for myself. Nothing I do is paying off.”

“You’re trying, though,” you tell him. It saddens you to see him like this. It’s not often that Jeonghan talks about how he feels, especially not now that you’ve grown so distant. “And you don’t have to go off and accomplish great things for me to be proud of you. I already am.”

He’s quiet, like he’s dwelling on something.

“I’m sorry,” he says a few seconds later. “It’s just all been such a mess.”

“That’s okay.”

In the silence between those two words are many more that don’t need to be spoken for him to understand. You’re doing okay. Everything will turn out okay.

“I wish things could go back to the way they were,” he says again, eyes a little shiny when he looks back at you. 

Nostalgia fills your brain, all of those treasured memories with him resting in a well-lit corner of your heart. 

“You know, it really hurts, Han, to keep doing this push and pull with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” he laughs wistfully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I never meant to hurt you, Y/N, honestly. And I’m really trying to be better about it. Things are looking up now, I think. It’s getting a little easier than before.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“How…” Jeonghan starts tentatively. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply, fidgeting with one of your bracelets. “Not too long.”

“Are you going to have something to eat?” An olive branch.

“I have food I meal-prepped at home.” A subtle denial.

The silence is loud. You try to think of something, anything to say to fill it, but you come up blank. There’s not much else to be said in the fraught air between the two of you. Not now, anyways.

“I’m sorry, I should let you get back to work,” you say suddenly, eyes landing on his half shut laptop. “I didn’t mean to take time out of your day.”

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m really glad I got to see you.”

“Have a safe trip to… wherever you’re going.”

He chuckles. “Just Jeju, but thank you.”

Before you leave, you reach for the scarf loosely wrapped around your neck — your favorite one you’ve had since college, the plaid cream-colored one — and you set it down on the table. He just looks at you questioningly.

“Why…?”

“It’s cold,” you say with a faint smile. “You haven’t changed, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Thank you.”

You take the time to memorize him — the curve of his face, the soft look in his eyes, the one reserved for you and the ones he holds close. If you could etch his features in your brain here and now, you would.

“Well,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Don’t be a stranger, Han. The next time I see your name, it better be a call from you instead of another news headline.”

Jeonghan nods, eyes forming crescents. “I’ll do my best.”

And there is something to be said about the love in looking back, for sure, but there is also love in not looking back, in choosing to keep your eyes trained on the path before you. There is love in knowing your weaknesses, that if you turn around you might not be able to walk away after all. 

You don’t release the breath you’re holding until you walk out the door. It’s raining, you realize with a start, the previously clear sky clouded over. It seems that your overcast heart has been mirrored by the earth.

The rhythmic droplets provide a strange sense of comfort as you let yourself get soaked, for lack of an umbrella. It works in your favor, anyway, because nobody will assume anything’s amiss if your face is already drenched.

Pit, pat. The smell of wet soil rises in your nostrils, and you let the tears fall.

no matter where i am in the world, i'll say it's you

FOUR YEARS LATER

The lights are blinding, and the sounds of the camera shutters are incessant. But this is the life Jeonghan has always dreamed of, so he doesn’t dare complain.

In truth, he doesn’t care for a lot of the interviews he’s been asked to do — he can’t be bothered by the mundane, mind-numbing questions he gets asked over and over again. Nothing ticks him off like the insensitive digs into his personal life they always ask him, searching for information he doesn’t wish to disclose.

But he does it, anyway, because what choice does he really have? It’s good for your image, Jihoon always tells him, adding another event to his schedule. It’s for your public platform.

“So, you’ve come out with another hit single,” the interviewer starts, beaming at him. His teeth are so artificially white, they seem to reflect the bright studio lights. “How does it feel to accomplish such a success yet again?”

“It’s really great,” Jeonghan answers honestly. “I’m very grateful to my manager, producer, and my beloved family. And, of course, all of the wonderful fans. I couldn’t have done any of this without them.”

“A touching answer as always, Jeonghan-ssi.” The man flashes a smile at the cameras. “Your new single To You was really well received by fans, especially for its fresh and passionate take on what it feels like to be in love.”

The blazer feels stiff now, under the heat of the lights. Jeonghan tries not to dwell too deeply on the true inspiration for the song he’d written late at night a couple years ago, overcome by his own heart.

“I’m really glad that everyone’s been enjoying it so much. That really was the intention,” he says, “to have a song that makes you feel like you’re floating.”

“And it does!” the interviewer laughs. “A lot of viewers really appreciated the sincerity of feelings that was conveyed through the song. Which raised the question; have you ever been in love before?”

Something akin to a late realization suddenly hits Jeonghan right there in the hot seat, under all those lights and cameras. His hand comes up to toy with the end of the scarf he’s wearing, a keepsake of treasured memories.

“Maybe,” he says with a wistful smile.

Wherever you are in the world right now, there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re watching.

“Maybe I have.”

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear it :) much love, ashi xx

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (16/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: The progression of your pregnancy sends Sylus away for the day to acquire something important from the dragons, leaving you alone on the mountain.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15)

Read on AO3

As the months passed and winter melted into spring and into summer you found yourself heavily pregnant during the hottest month of the year. There were good days and bad days and worse days. Pregnancy was beautiful in some aspects, like when you first felt them kick. Sylus hadn’t let go of your stomach for an hour after that just so he could feel them move around more. But other days were filled with puking, mood swings, and insatiable cravings.

“Sylus?” you called.

“What is it--” he stopped when he walked in the bedroom and saw you laying starfished on the floor. “Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Then why are you on the floor?”

“It’s hot and the ground is colder than the bed.”

“Can’t be comfortable though. How about we get you up--”

“No. I live here now.”

“Little bird--”

“Nothing little about me now. Look at me! I look like I swallowed a pumpkin!” Your whole body ached. “Can we just get this kid out already? I’m tired of being pregnant!”

“You look beautiful.” He rubbed your swollen stomach. “You’re growing our child and they will be ready to meet us in another month. I’m sorry you’re having a rough day though. Can I get you anything?”

“You can make it winter again so I’m not dying of heat stroke.” you fanned yourself.

“If I could turn the seasons for you I’d do it but as it is this is the most I can offer.” he unfurled his wings and beat them gently, causing a cool breeze to blow on you. “Better?”

“That does feel nice.” you sighed.

“Now what did you call me in here for? Or did you just need to complain.”

“No. I did need something.” you tried to sit up but your stupid big stomach was making it hard. Sylus stopped fanning you to help you sit up. “Can’t even sit up anymore…can’t believe I agreed to have three more of these.”

“No backing out now.” he said. “Now what did you need?”

You held out your arms. “A hug?”

“Oh my sweet,” he pulled you into his arms. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” you had barely gotten any sleep last night because the baby decided midnight was the perfect time to start doing somersaults in your womb. Then it was just so hot you couldn’t think to do anything but flop onto the ground. You were sore, you were tired, and you just wanted this baby out already!

He looked down at your stomach. “And you in there, treat your mother more kindly. She’s working hard on making you, you should be more appreciative.”

There was a kick to your side. “Baby says no.”

“I fear we have a rebellious child on our hands. Just know, little one, if you keep hurting your mother like this we are going to have words when you are out of there.”

You laughed. “I don’t think they’ll understand why you are scolding them, Sylus.”

“They’ll know. Just like they know what they’re doing right now.”

“You are ridiculous.” you sighed, your mood easing again.

For a few minutes you sat together, tracing your stomach, feeling the faint thumps of the baby kicking at your insides. “I hate to worsen your mood again but I need to tell you something important that I don’t think you will like hearing.”

Your smiled dropped. “Do you have to?”

“Unfortunately.” he brushed some hair from your face. “I need to leave for a day or so.”

“What! Why are you leaving?”

“Hush, it’s alright. You see I…” he sighed. “I have been enjoying our time together so much this past year. I cannot believe that I’ve been able to call you mine for that long. But there’s a certain dragon tradition I need to complete with the due date coming closer.”

“I thought you were done with dragon traditions. You said you were going to create your own rules.”

“I did and I meant it. But there are some laws and practices that I still have to adhere to out of safety.”

“Safety? What do you mean by safety?”

“You see, there is a special salve that all new hatchlings in a dragon tribe are anointed with when they are born. It marks them as dragon and helps keep them safe. It is said to ward off predators and evil spirits. I don’t know how much I believe in evil spirits but with this being our first child I do not want to take any risks.” he cradled your stomach. “The dragons are the closest that they venture this way but the journey is still long. I will be gone for a day, maybe two.”

“I see. But why is it so far? When we went to the beach where they were that only took a couple hours.”

“That was because they needed the sand. And if I showed up at a ride asking for the salve after I had left the tribe it would be seen as exceedingly rude. So I had to wait for another time and this is the time they are closest to this land otherwise. It is still more than half a day’s journey by flight hence why I said I will be gone for a while.”

“That makes sense I suppose. Just promise you’ll hurry back.”

“I will. I promise. Do you want to go stay in the village while I’m gone?”

“No. I can survive a day or two without you here. I don’t much feel like taking a flight. Not if you want me to hurl in your arms.”

“Alright. I leave early tomorrow morning and with luck I should be back late in the evening, or the next afternoon at the latest.” he kissed your temple. “Don’t strain yourself while I’m away.”

“Trust me. I don’t feel like doing much of anything.” you sighed. “One more month…”

The next morning Sylus left, stirring you from sleep but for a moment to tell you he was leaving before giving you a kiss and taking off. You went back to bed for a few more hours until the baby decided to kick at your bladder and woke you up for good.

You went about your day as normal and decided to occupy your time by finishing some of the baby clothes you had been working on. You couldn’t wait to finally meet your baby! Tara had assured you in the reading she did that the birth would go by smoothly. She had asked if you wanted to know whether you were having a boy or a girl but you decided to let it be a surprise.

You were sitting in the hoard room, the reflection of light off the gold provided the best light to work by, when you heard a sound from somewhere else in the mountain. Strange. Was Sylus back already? Maybe the dragons were closer than he thought.

“Let’s go see if your father is home.” you said to your stomach and waddled out of the hoard room. “Sylus?” you called. “Did you forget something?”

You made it to the entrance chamber and saw there was an entire squadron of people there. You didn’t recognize any of them. “Excuse me, you’re trespassing in my home.” you said, drawing their attention to you, “I’m going to need you to leave at once.”

None of them were speaking which immediately put you on edge. You gripped the fabric shears in your pocket. From the back of the crowd one of the men shuffled forward. You knew this man. He was one of the villagers, the one that had been staring at Sylus and you at the woodworker’s cottage.

“That’s her.” he said, pointing to you.

“You weren’t shitting us, Aaron.” one of the others said, “The dragon really mated with a human.”

You placed a hand over your swollen belly. “I don’t know for what reason you have all come here but I suggest you leave now while you still can. If you so much as touch me you will have to answer to my mate and I doubt you want that.”

“Your mate isn’t here.” the man from the village, Aaron, said. “And he won’t be back for a while. We spotted him leaving early this morning with a large pack. Hardly something you take for a quick flight around the mountain, is it?”

They had been stalking the mountain? How long had they been watching? What did they want? None of that mattered right now. You needed to act. You were severely outnumbered and you couldn’t fight without endangering your baby.

“Now, miss, you can come quietly or we can do this the hard way.” they said, brandishing their weapons.

Fuck! You turned and sprinted as fast as you could back into the tunnels of the mountain. You lived here for over a year. You had time to memorize these tunnels. You could hide from them so long as you kept ahead. But it was hard to do that when you were eight months pregnant! You needed to go. You needed to find some place to hide they’d never find you.

“Hard way it is.” their cruel laughter echoed off the walls, “Get her!”

~~~

Sylus was not looking forward to this. The closer he got to the dragons the more agitated he got. He had to talk himself out of turning around and returning home a dozen or more times. He was already anxious leaving you alone and he started to question how much he really needed this salve. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen if he didn’t get it.

He also didn’t want anyone else letting them know that another half-breed was being born. He would deliver that news himself and face whatever ire came with it. It was late in the afternoon when he finally spotted the tribe down below.

Too late to back out now. He flew down, bracing himself for any manner of reactions from the others. Immediately they picked up on his scent. He recognized most of those that he passed. They glared, some growled, but no one had yet to make a move to stop him.

He steeled himself, his hands balling into fists as he charged forward only to have his path abruptly cut off by a large blue dragon with citrine eyes. “The half-breed returns,” they laughed, “And he reeks of human.”

“Nilamegh, how dearly I have not missed you.” the Draconic fell off his tongue easily. It was strange speaking it again after so long. It was rough in his mouth.

Another of the dragons, a green one landed behind him. “He always reeked of human. But this is new.” they pointed a massive claw at Sylus’s neck. “He is mated now.”

“Yes I have, Bercilak.” Sylus said, “And I see you still have not. Why does that not surprise me?”

“You--” Bercilak snarled before Nilamegh cut him off.

“Really? You took a mate?” their large head glared at Sylus, “What poor pathetic human did you force yourself on?”

“Shut it!” Sylus felt his composure slipping. “She is my mate and she wanted to be my mate. She is now pregnant with my child. I have only returned to get the salve for the anointing of my offspring. I promise I will not return after I have acquired a jar to take home with me.”

“More half breeds?” they snarled and the others that had been eavesdropping showed the same shock. “Was our race not already disgraced by the addition of you?”

“That is enough.” a voice boomed louder than all the others. Every dragon bowed their head and moved out of the way as Tengya stepped forward. Despite being surrounded by dragons twice his size this was the only time Sylus felt truly dwarfed. He took a knee, keeping his head low.

“Sioltach,” Tengya said, his voice calm, “You have returned.”

“I go by Sylus now.”

The old dragon made a noncommittal grunt. “You would.” he dismissed the others. “Raise your head. Walk with me.”

Sylus followed obediently, his entire person on edge as he and Tengya wandered farther from the crowd. He wanted to just ask for the salve and leave but knew better than to talk before the elder did. When they were far enough away Tengya sat down, Sylus knelt in his massive shadow.

The large dragon regarded him for a moment. “You come seeking the salve to anoint your offspring, yes?”

“You heard that much, did you?” Sylus muttered.

“No. But I know there is only one reason you would return to the tribe after so long away.” Tengya said, lowering his head to be more eye level with Sylus. “You have a human mate.”

“Yes.”

Tengya sighed, his molten red eyes assessing Sylus up and down. “You have grown. Last I saw of you, you were but a child. Rebellion in your blood, fire in your eyes. You were such an angry child.”

“My anger is what let me survive.” Sylus could feel all those emotions clawing at him. “Are you not angry, elder? You know why I am here. I have a human mate. She is soon to give birth to our child. There will be another half-breed running amok in the world. Does this not make you angry?”

“Why would it? I am glad that my progeny has found peace.”

Sylus stared at him dumbfounded. “Your jokes are cruel.”

“I do not joke. Do you think that I regard you so little, my son?”

“I am a curse!” Sylus fumed. “A punishment for a woman who tried to take your magic. I know you do not care for me.”

“I created you. If I thought you would be a blight on this world I would have found a different way to punish that woman.” Tengya’s quiet and calm response only stoked Sylus’s own ire. “But I see how your time away has warped your opinion of me.”

“It is not warped. I know I was not accepted here. You all saw me as a monster. An atrocity!”

“I cannot speak for the others, but I know what I thought.” Tengya huffed, blowing a jet of steam at Sylus. “And I never saw you as a monster. You were my creation, my child, whether you accept that or not is your own decision. And then you left. Ran away from the tribe.”

“Because I was not accepted.”

“You were accepted, Sioltach. You are because I say you are. But that was not the problem.” Tengya said, “You are dragon, but you are also human. And you craved to be loved, but that is not something dragons can provide. I cannot apologize for not being able to defy my nature. But I can give you this.” he reached into a chink of his massive scales and produced a jar the size of an urn.

Sylus caught it with a small grunt. “Take the salve. Anoint your child. Accept them as a dragon, love them as a human, as only you can.”

“That is it?” Sylus stared at the jar. “You have nothing else to say?”

“What more is there to say?” Tengya stood. “Return to your mate. Live well, my son.”

Tengya took off into the sky, leaving Sylus alone in the field holding the massive jar. He bowed his head. “Thank you.” he said to the wind.

He packed the salve into his pack and immediately began the flight back to the mountain. There were many thoughts going through his head but all he cared about was going home. Sylus was relieved though. He had the salve and while it wasn’t set in stone there was an implied promise that Tengya would not let any of the others harm you or your child.

Sylus wanted to get back as soon as possible but the flight was long and he needed to bunk down in a tree for a couple hours before continuing the journey. He finally made it back to the mountain late the next morning. The sight of the mountain had filled him with so much joy. He was finally going to be back with you.

He touched down at the entrance and the joy of being home immediately evaporated. Something was wrong.

He sniffed at the air. Your scent was faint, almost gone. And there was something else. Other scents that didn’t belong. Sweaty and masculine scents. Had you decided to go to the village after all? Had your father come to get you? What was happening?

Sylus set the pack down and ran through the cave trying to find you but could find you nowhere. That’s when his nose caught another scent, it was hidden but the further into the caves he got the more prominent it became. Blood.

“No…” Sylus followed the scent into a dark room. His eyes strained in the darkness until he found the source of the smell. That horrible sweaty masculine smell was strongest in here, mixed with the faint sour tang of fear and metallic blood. He found a pair of large scissors were covered in blood. Not yours. But the dark stain on the ground, that was yours. That reeked of you.

Someone had come in here and and hurt you. Someone had raided his home and taken his mate and child!

His skin grew blisteringly hot. What felt like fire surged through his blood and red hot heat burned out of his eyes. Each breath he tasted smoke and death on his tongue.

He ran back out of the cave, his skin shredding around him as he took to the sky once more. A scream ripping from his throat in pain and fury. He was going to kill them! He was going to kill all of them!

[twistedpink]

Secret relationship with Jamil or smth 😤😤

TEHEEEE I missed writing him <33 This kinda grabbed me and ran away, but wtvvvv (I can never make him happy for some reason??)

Jamil is the best candidate for a sneaky link, because he knows how to keep a secret!! He starts out by insisting a stress relief can only improve his performance- there’s no shame in trying harder when he finally stops holding back :) But it blows up in his face when he falls for you, and he’s in denial for months. When he finally comes to neutral terms with it (not peace, NEVER peace) and subsequently this new era of his life, there’s no way he’ll let you pass him by!

Uggghhhhhhhh sneaky link!Jamil always get petty when you skimp out on him,, So what if you’re worried about that exam? He may consider slipping you his test answers if you suck his face well enough, be good for him and you’ll get everything you could dream of <33

Sneaky link!Jamil that get soooo jealous of your friends, even worse when you get a boyfriend. What does that moron have that he doesn’t?? If only he had the resources, and the power, and the partner, he could be great! Why can’t you see that?

Sneaky link!Jamil works himself into a tizzy thinking about how he’s supposed to be using you, not the other way around >:/ Too bad he’s been conditioned to relax only under your attention- he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.. He never gets anything for himself, promise you’ll stay!!

God, Jamil hates being sneaky with you, but there’s not really any other option :/ Your partner and friends, his master and family, it’s all too much. Sometimes when he’s with you at night, staring out his window, he imagines running away from it all. The responsibility, the fucking people that underestimate you. He paints the life you could live, but never voices it.. You simply don’t like him enough. He’s not worth the sacrifice, and he knows it. Such is life- he’ll enjoy you while he can, so long as you’ll do the same </3

[ahhhtwentypilot]

Divorced!Toji who cheats on you one night when he’s drunk on accident.

Divorced!Toji, who only makes excuses when you find out, saying it was just an accident, and he was drunk. It’s not like he put effort, why would he? You would believe him anyway.

Divorced!Toji who says he doesn’t care when you guys get a divorce, that you’re just another person in his life that’s leaving. You’re the one who would regret it. Not him.

Divorced!Toji who drowns his feelings in alcohol and meaningless hookups. Who tries to convince himself he didn’t care. What was the point of getting married anyway? He knew it would end like this.

Divorced!Toji who gets a new girlfriend. Doesn’t really like her, but does that really matter? It was just for fun anyway.

Divorced!Toji, who finds himself comparing everything she does to you. Why does she dress like that? Why does she talk like that? Why does she act like that?

Divorced!Toji, who convinced himself to stop thinking about you. That the only reason he compares his girlfriend to you, is because she’s better. (Though we all know that’s not true.)

Divorced!Toji, who ‘accidentally’ finds your social media. It’s totally like he wasn’t searching for it. But now that he’s here, might as well look through it right?

Divorced!Toji, who curses to himself when he finds out you have a new boyfriend. Because who the fuck thinks they can have you? (Though it’s been months and he should have expected that.)

Divorced!Toji who scoffs to himself one drunken night, messaging you a paragraph that only makes your relationship worse.

Divorced!Toji, who gets even more angry when you just brush off his message. The bold “Read” at the bottom, just laughing in his face. Because he knew you read it, you just didn’t answer. I mean, why would you? You guys were long broken up, and he was probably stupid for even texting you in the first place. But still, no answer?

Divorced!Toji, who lashes out at his girlfriend. Spitting insults and laughs. Because no one could compare to you, and why was he just now realizing it? Dumbass.

Divorced!Toji, who really doesn’t care when his girlfriend breaks up with him. He was now free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Divorced!Toji, who texts you every day.

“Why are you even with that bastard?”

“Come back to me mama, you know you want to.”

“I’ll have you back in my bed in no time, stop resisting pretty girl.”

“Come onnn, the divorce was a mistake.”

Divorced!Toji, who knows you see them, you just won’t answer. Who keeps doing it anyway, because the fact that you read them even when you’re spoken for, says something to him.

[earthmoonz]

WIFEY. PT 2 | EP TWO (2.0)

start / previous / next [haven’t read part one?]

typically, it was lena’s preference to wake alone. the quiet dawn brought comfort, allowing her to exist only as herself instead of the product of what made her. today though, she’d  woken with a scowl. sleep had been restless which was somehow worse than none at all. if asked, she would blame the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, but in truth, her mood had soured from the moment she reached across the mattress and realised no one else was there.

it was midnight when she arrived at her mother’s home. san myshuno to copperdale was a three hour drive and while traffic had been merciful, lena remained tense. she'd never quite settled in the northern town. the family ran a decent operation up there but it was nothing compared to the speed and grandeur of san my.

[click for hq]

(continued prose + transcript below)

(cont.) for a time she’d been a gun for hire. the work was tedious but it blessed her with independence more importantly, forced her away from familial dysfunction. the early days of the scott’s exile from san myshuno had been brutal and sticking around would have made it far worse.

(Max): Hey. Did I wake you?

(Lena): Nah, I was gonna go for a run. Why are you up so early?

(Max): Ugh…I can’t sleep. Danielle's bed is way too soft.

(Lena): Poor baby. 

(Max): It’s fine, I can nap on the sofa when Simone’s gone to work. How was the drive last night?

(Lena): Okay, and decent. Traffic was alright for once. 

(Max): Good…do you know if your brother’s still there?

(Lena): I don’t. But it’s not like he’d be anywhere else.

(Max): Fair... How long are you staying again?

(Lena): I'm driving back tomorrow. Why, you missing me already?

(Max): Not if you’re gonna be a freak about it.

(Lena): You’re such a brat.

(Max): [feigned ignorance] I don’t know what you mean.

(Lena): See, if you were being good, I could’ve helped you get back to sleep.

(Max): …I'm being good now.

(Lena): Oh really? [a thud sounds from outside the door] for fuck sake. 

(Max): Huh?

(Lena): Sorry baby but I’ve gotta go. You’re still looking at flats later, right? Let me know how that goes, okay?

(Max): Yeah, okay b- [the call ends]

[***]

[Lena pulls open the door]

(Lena): Can I fucking help you?

(Lourdes): Don’t be like that. I just got here and mami said-

(Lena): [mocking] ‘Mami said’-oh fuck off, Lourdes.

(Lourdes): Lena, you can’t keep ignoring me. It's been weeks!

(Lena): Why don’t you go and bother Luis since your head lives up his arse these days. 

(Lourdes): You are…such a bitch.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I just saw you were taking requests! :D Lately, I've been obsessing over Buck's and Dally's relationship. Do you think you could write something about them? Preferably a sickfic/whump, but no worries if not.

@fefe-the-cat I HOPE THIS DOES YOU JUSTICE!!! This is where I kinda admit I've never thought much about Dally 'n Buck but this was fun to explore!! TYSM for the ask!!! fic below the cut!!

CW: mentions of vomit and throwing up!! nothing graphic!!

Dallas rolls over, grabs the bucket he'd stolen from the shed 'n brings up the only thing left in his stomach: bile. Waves of nausea roll over him, causin' his shoulders to buck 'n his elbows to buckle from where he's tryin' to hold his weight. He lets himself collapse face down on the bed, buryin' his face in his sheets.

Shit.

He doesn't know why he thought he'd be over this by now. Glory, kill him now. He'd felt like shit yesterday mornin' when he'd woken up thrown unceremoniously into the back bedroom at Buck's. He hadn't been surprised, per say. Wakin' up at Buck's almost certainly meant he'd gotten piss drunk the previous night without one of the gang to drag his sorry ass back to Darry. He'd chalked the sickness in his stomach and heaviness in his limbs to forgettin' to stop before the tequila shooters.

That had become a harder beleif to hold as he crawled into bed last night feelin' worse then when he'd started. By the time he woke up this mornin' heavin' dinner he'd accepted it.

He finally stops chokin' on nothin' 'n sits up and against the wall. He was beginnin' to really regret not just draggin' his ass to the Curtis' place. But he didn't want to do that to Darry. He wasn't that selfish. If he wound up on their porch with the bug he'd pass it to Pony who would give it to Soda, would pass it over to Steve who'd hot potato it to Johnny and it would swiftly wind up with Two and finish out strong with Darry. Sickness made the ranks of the gang like clockwork.

No, he was determined to figure this one out himself. He'd be fine.

Dallas dragged his head off the mattress, instantly heavin' again. Fuck, how Darry could take care of all six of them without losin' his mind was beyond Dallas.

A knock pounds on the door and Dallas runs a hand over his mouth to wipe away the bile, scrubs over his face, pushes back his hair. "I'm not runnin' the fuckin' ponies today, Buck, piss off."

He's not necessarily surprised when, instead of retreatin', the door flies open. Not shocked but still irate. Buck stands in the doorway lookin' pissed as all get out before he gets a good look at Dallas. He softens instantly, cockin' one eyebrow.

"You look like shit." Dallas rolls flat onto his back, stares at the celin'.

"Gee, thanks." He pushes himself to sit when Buck doesn't leave. "Fuck off, I'm fine." Buck rolls his eyes. Well, that was new. Usually, when Dallas told him to get lost he'd mutter about some fuckin' kid who thought he could order his grown ass around 'n then promptly get lost.

"Move over." Buck crosses the room in three strides, not that it was impressive, the room was practically a renovated closet. Dallas was more amused with the fact it took him that many.

"Buck, leave me alone. I feel like shit, I'm not runnin' those fuckin' horses." Dallas squeezes his eyes shut 'n bites down hard to keep his teeth from chatterin'.

"Yeah, no shit." He nearly jumps out of his skin when Buck's hand comes down on his forehead. He snaps his eyes open again, bats his hand away.

"Buck, get the hell out of here, would ya?" He tries again. Buck pulls the cig that's burnin' down to nothin' from his mouth, stamps it out on the bottom of his boot, and tosses it out the open window. He reaches over 'n wiggles it shut. "I wanted that open." Dallas shoots him a glare even though he was gonna close it himself the second he got the man out of his room.

"That's probably why you got sick to start with. Close the fuckin' windows in winter, why doncha?" He rolls his eyes and sounds too much like Darry for comfort. Dallas kicks him in the thigh.

"I'm not sick." Buck actually laughs in his face.

"Sure. Do you vomit on the weekends for fun now?" He kicks the bucket Dallas dropped to the floor. Dallas glares at him. "Look, I'll go get that Darry guy, he can come scrape you off the ground." Buck goes to walk out 'n Dallas snags a hand around his wrist quick as quick.

"Leave Darry out of this." Buck stops, fixes him with a stare. "I don't want him to worry or nothin'."

Well. That wasn't the answer Buck had expected.

"Fine." He shakes Dallas' hand off 'n Dally lets it drop to the bed. "But I'm not gonna let you die in my back room. Bad for business." Dallas rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. Buck disappears into the hall, returns with a thermometer.

"I don't need that shit. I'm fine." Buck shoots him an incredulous look Dallas pointedly ignores.

"I don't really care if you think you don't need it. Either you're openin' up for it to I'll get Darry down here to open your mouth for you." Dallas scowls as Buck plays the only card in his hand. He wasn't sure what Darry Curtis had on the rabid dog that was Dallas Winston but whatever it is, does the trick. Dallas leans over 'n snatches the thermometer, shovin' it into his mouth. "Now keep it there. God knows it'll be hard since you can't ever seem to keep your mouth shut." Dallas shoots him a glare 'n he doesn't need words to convey how close he is to kickin' Buck's ass. Buck just grins.

After a long minute, Buck plucks the glass from Dallas' mouth 'n checks the readin'. He lets out a long, low whistle. "Holy shit, kid."

Dallas momentarily stops scowlin' 'n Buck swears he hasn't seen the vulnerable look on his face since Dallas was fourteen 'n rollin' into Tusla with an accent so strong you couldn't understand a damn thing he said and the hunted look of someone much, much older.

"I think you're out for the count, kid." Dallas is still so focused on the red line he forgets to be agitated with Buck for callin' him a kid. Buck puts one hand on his chest 'n pushes him back down to the pillows.

"What does it say?" Dallas puts up a decent, three-second fight before he goes white 'n grabs for the bucket. Buck worries his lip, runs a hand up the kid's back.

"Says you're sick, dumbass." Buck sighs, stands up once Dallas shoulders stop shakin'.

"Don't go." Dallas' hand snakes out again, this time fingers diggin' deep into Buck's wrist. He freezes, takes in Dallas' gaunt face, his sudden desperation.

"I'm not goin'. I'm gettin' you a glass of water since you've been yackin' nothin' since yesterday." Dallas hesitates a moment 'n Buck doesn't try to pry his fingers off.

"Fine. But don't you dare come back here with medicine. I won't take none of that nasty shit." Buck rolls his eyes and crosses back to the door.

"You'll take whatever I want you to so I don't have to have the cops carry your skinny ass out of here in a body bag." Buck pretends he doesn't see the middle finger Dallas throws as he leaves the room.

When he comes back the kid is suddenly much more subdued than he was when Buck left. Buck deposits the shot glass of cold syrup and water on the nightstand.

"What is it, kid?" Dallas leans back against the wall, pulls his knees up to his chest.

"Buck, am I gonna die?" And the question jars Buck so hard he chokes on whatever he was gonna say.

"Are you gonna what?" Dallas turns the full force of his cold, ice eyes to Buck.

"Die." He deadpans.

"What the hell made you think some little cold is gonna knock off the unkillable Dallas Winston?" Buck smooths a strand of white blonde hair from his forehead. He knows he must really be feelin' whatever bug he's caught when he doesn't fight it at all.

"I dunno. I don't get sick. Last time was... New York." He trails off, buries his head down in his knees. He doesn't need to clarify what he means.

"Yeah, well." Buck picks up the glass, forces it into Dally's hands. "This time you got people lookin' out for you. Ain't no stupid bug gonna kill you, kid."

Dallas takes the cup, swallows a tentative sip. "I guess."

"Look. You're tired. You're half delirious if the nonsense you're spittin' says anythin'. Just try to go to sleep. You'll wake up feelin' better." Buck takes the water, swaps it for the shot glass of medicine. Dallas knocks it back like he shoots vodka- makin' a face 'n then pretendin' he enjoyed it.

He eases Dallas back onto the bed, decides fuck it, the kid was as much Darry's problem as he'd once been Buck's. A million years ago. He'd call him once he got the kid down.

Dallas' eyes flicker shut, blonde lashes fannin' across his cheeks. Buck smooths his hair back one final time, pulls the blanket up 'n over him.

He's nearly out of the room when he hears Dalla's hoarse mutter. "What is it, kid?"

"Thanks, Buck. For everythin'." Buck isn't sappy or nothin' 'n if you asked he'd swear he had no idea what you were dreamin' up. But if he wipes a tear off his cheek as he pulls the door closed, well, it was deserved. He had a soft spot in his heart for that stupid kid. Sue him.

[nomoreusername]

What Truly Matters

Pairing:Minho x female reader

Summary:No matter how bad Minho's jealousy gets, he'll always end up remembering what's actually important.

I get it on a surface level. Y/N helps out with basically every Greenie. Answering questions with a lot of patience, checking in on them, eating dinner with them if they looked lonely. She was just sweet in general.

She’s just been a lot sweeter to this one. Probably because he never stops asking questions. And in typical Y/N fashion she didn't mind telling him.

He’s seen with Chuck a lot and sometimes Newt. Chances are if he wasn't with them though, he’d be with Y/N. It didn't seem to matter that she was a Runner. It didn't matter that despite having the same job our time together was limited. Her attention was his.

Tonight was supposed to be better though. It's Greenie night, and we always spend just a little bit of it together. Just enough to make up for how little we get to see each other. Even though it's not a ton it's enough to keep us stable. I assumed she would care about that. If we can't have a steady relationship why even have one in the first place? It would clearly be better to go our separate ways at that point.

Tonight was supposed to be better.

As I found myself still sitting in the dark by myself, it was obvious it would not be better. It was actually worse now. I didn't know that was possible before this point.

She has stayed with Greenie. She had stayed before the fight, had watched him during it, celebrated when he won and remembered his name, and until basically the end of the night. She had stayed with Greenie.

And in doing so she had completely forgotten about me.

Fine. I know where I stand now, and it certainly isn't with her. If Thomas means more than she can have Thomas.

Standing up, I stormed off to my hammock, my arms crossed over my chest as I glared at absolutely nothing. Even if there was someone to glare at, I wouldn't care. I don't care about anything at this point. She can have her precious Thomas, but I’ll be damned if I fall second to a Greenie.

♡ - - - ♡

I woke up early for one reason and one reason only.

I’m avoiding her. I don't want to see her. I don't want to speak to her. I don't even want to think about her. As far as I’m concerned, she can stay the shuck away from me.

Unfortunately, she had been up early too, trying to make excuses for not spending Greenie night with me. She apologized profusely, swearing it would be better next time.

Yeah right. With the way things have been going, I don't even think there can be a next time, something I was more than willing to let her know before I started my section, not letting her reply. I don't even think she could if she tried as she stared at me with wide eyes, opening and closing her mouth before her lips started to quiver as she realized the gravity of what I was telling her.

I tried to pretend that wasn't haunting the back of my mind. The image of her heartbroken and shocked face wasn't something I wanted to stick with me.

Still, it played over and over in my head, taunting and torturing me. No matter how badly I didn't want to think about what would most likely lead to a breakup, my brain was determined to make me recognize how much it hurt.

I didn't bother with lunch. I won't be able to stomach anything. I just sat on the ground, wishing that things had played out any way but this.

As I was wallowing in pity, I heard faint cries. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I glanced around, listening in for the direction it was coming from.

Staying dead silent, I stood up, walking as quietly as possible so I could find out where to go and if I should go. Creeping to the end of the Maze, I looked left and right, determining two things as I did.

It was coming from the wall right beside me.

The cries belonged to a girl.

There's only one girl in this place. That's how it’s been for so long, and even if she’s not mine anymore, I could never leave her behind. I could never not follow her to the end of the world, even if I used all my will to resist her pull.

The same pull that led me around a corner and in front of her.

She was sitting on the ground, holding her bloody leg. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed, her face stained with tears.

“Y/N,”I breathed out, rushing to her side. She kept her gaze on the ground as choked cries left her. Placing her palm to her eyes, she hid her tears as best as she could.

“We’re going to the Medjacks,”I said,wrapping one arm around her shoulder and the other under her leg. She didn't object as she met my pick her up, grasping my shirt as she sniffled, burying her face in my chest.

“I'm sorry,”She got out, her voice cracking.

“Don't worry about that right now. We just need to get you better,”I said firmly, pulling her closer to me and doing my best to ignore her blood dripping into the stone with small plops, staining the already tense place.

I don't care about her and Thomas. I don't care about the argument. I don't care about what I said. Maybe I will after this is over, but all that matters right now is that she's okay. No matter what happens to us, her waking up tomorrow is the most important thing in the world.

[natasaa13]

"You’re trouble" ft. Choso Kamo

Part 4

18+ minors do not interact!!!

Previous

"You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The air had taken on the distinct crispness of late October, carrying the faint smell of fallen leaves and wood smoke. The park, one of Musa and Choso’s usual meeting spots, was alive with the vibrant hues of autumn—fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. They walked side by side, their footsteps crunching against the leaf-strewn path, the faint sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby filling the air.

It had been a month now since Musa and Choso’s relationship began, their moments together tucked into the cracks of their carefully constructed lives. Whenever Suguru was with Shoko, Musa would slip out with the excuse of catching up on schoolwork at the library. Other times, Shoko would cover for her, giving her the freedom to meet Choso at random cafés or quiet corners of the city where no one would think to look.

She had learned a lot about Choso during their secret meetups. He wasn’t just the quiet and mysterious guy Suguru called a friend—he was far more complex. Through their conversations, she discovered he had two brothers: Yuuji and Sukuna.

Choso lived with Sukuna, though he admitted his older brother was rarely home. Sukuna split his time between school and boxing, leaving the apartment eerily quiet most days. Yuuji, on the other hand, lived with his friends Nobara and Megumi but visited Choso whenever he could. The way Choso spoke about his brothers made Musa’s heart soften—there was an unspoken protectiveness in his tone, even when he joked about Sukuna’s endless energy or Yuuji’s goofy antics.

And then, there were the little details she hadn’t expected to learn, like the fact that Choso had a tongue piercing. The first time she noticed it, a brief flicker of silver as he spoke, she’d been caught completely off guard. How much more attractive could one man get? It was almost unfair.

“Hey,” Choso said, breaking the silence. He glanced at Musa, his dark eyes warm against the cool backdrop of the season. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

Musa nodded, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body. “Yeah, just... thinking about how fast this month has gone by.”

Choso’s lips curved into a small smile. “Good fast or bad fast?”

“Good fast,” Musa replied, her voice soft. She turned her head to look at him, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Definitely good fast.”

Choso chuckled, his breath visible in the cool air. “I’ll take it.”

They walked a little further, the world around them peaceful in its autumn stillness. Choso broke the quiet again. “So… Halloween’s coming up. Big plans?”

Musa shrugged. “Not really. Suguru and Shoko might do something, but I haven’t heard anything solid yet. Why?”

“Satoru’s throwing a party,” Choso said, kicking at a stray leaf. “You know him—loud music, questionable decisions, and probably some over-the-top costume. Should be fun.”

Musa laughed. “That sounds like Satoru.”

Choso grinned. “You should come.”

Musa blinked, her laughter fading into surprise. “Me? At one of Satoru’s parties? That’s... not exactly low-profile. Remember what happened last time?”

“Think about it,” Choso said, his tone light but persuasive. “Big crowd, plenty of distractions. Shoko can keep Suguru busy, and we can just… blend in. Get lost in the chaos for a bit.”

Musa hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground as she considered it. “I don’t know, Choso. What if someone sees us? Or worse—what if Suguru sees us?”

“ He won't, won't worry too much okay?" his tone is soft and reassuring

“I’m serious, though,” Choso said, his voice softening. “You deserve a night to just… have fun. No sneaking around, no excuses. Just us.”

Musa looked up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso smiled, his expression lighting up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Musa said, returning his smile. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Choso said with a laugh. “Now, any ideas for costumes?”

“Something subtle,” Musa said firmly. “We’re supposed to blend in, remember?”

“Subtle,” Choso repeated, his tone teasing. “Got it.”

As they rounded a bend in the park, the distant hum of the city blended with the rustling of leaves. Musa’s thoughts were already racing ahead, the idea of sneaking off to Satoru’s party equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Got any ideas?” Choso asked, glancing at her curiously.

She paused, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought. “How about… Pucca and Garu?”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “Pucca and Garu? Like, the cartoon characters?”

Musa grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Yeah! It’s perfect. Pucca’s always chasing after Garu, and Garu’s… well, he’s quiet and kind of mysterious. It fits.”

Choso laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “So, you’re saying you’re Pucca?”

“Obviously,” Musa said with a mock-serious tone, crossing her arms. “And you’re Garu. It’s not even a question.”

Choso shook his head, still smiling. “Alright, Pucca. I’ll bite. What do I need for this costume?”

Musa’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. You’ll need black pants, a black shirt, red gloves, and—oh, a red heart on your shirt.”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “A red heart? Is Garu secretly a romantic?”

“Of course,” Musa teased, grinning. “He’s just subtle about it. And your signature pigtails are already perfect. You don’t even have to try.”

Choso ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Guess I’m a natural ninja, huh?”

“Something like that,” Musa said with a laugh. “And for me, I’ll wear a red dress and put my hair in buns. Simple and cute.”

Choso tilted his head, his eyes softening as they lingered on her. “You’ll look perfect.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly waved him off. “Focus, Garu. We’re talking strategy here.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Black shirt, red heart, gloves, and my hair. Got it.”

Choso leaned closer, his smirk softening. “You really thought this through, huh?”

Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she held his gaze. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to dress up as Pucca for a while. You’re just my perfect excuse.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Choso teased, his tone light. “Alright, Pucca and Garu it is."

------------------‐---------

Musa stepped into the house after her “study session,” the cool autumn air still clinging to her jacket. The soft hum of the TV filled the space, and she spotted Suguru lounging on the couch, his long hair tied back as he flipped through channels.

“You’re back,” he said, glancing up with a small smile. “How was the library?”

“It was good,” Musa replied, setting her bag down by the door. “Caught up on a lot.”

Suguru nodded, stretching slightly. “You hungry? I was just about to make something.”

Musa’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and she laughed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help.”

The two moved to the kitchen, working side by side as they prepared dinner—a simple stir-fry with rice. It wasn’t long before they were seated at the dining table, the warm aroma of their meal filling the room.

As they ate, Musa hesitated for a moment before bringing up her idea. “So, um, I heard from Shoko that Satoru’s throwing a Halloween party.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Yeah, I know. Not even surprised.”

“Well,” Musa continued, her voice carefully casual, “would it be okay if I tagged along? Shoko mentioned you guys are going. Well obviously since Satoru is you best friend.”

Suguru frowned slightly, his protective instincts flaring up. For a moment, he considered saying no, but then a thought stopped him: Maybe I’ve been too overbearing. Maybe that’s why she’s been acting distant.

He sighed, setting his chopsticks down. “Yeah, okay. You can come with us. Just… be careful, alright? And stick with Shoko.”

Musa’s face lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “Really? Thanks, Suguru! I promise I’ll behave.”

Musa twirled her chopsticks in her hand, the warmth of the meal and Suguru’s rare relaxed demeanor easing her nerves. She leaned back in her chair, her smile lingering. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me go. I thought you’d say no right away.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock-offended look. “What, you think I’m some overbearing tyrant?”

“Well...” Musa teased, dragging the word out. “You do have your moments Suguru.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Can you blame me? You’re my little sister. It’s literally my job to keep you out of trouble.”

“I’m three minutes younger!” Musa protested, playfully glaring at him.

“Still younger,” Suguru countered with a smug grin, taking another bite of his food.

Musa huffed, crossing her arms, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. “You act like I’m some reckless kid. I can handle myself, you know.”

“I’m sure you can,” Suguru said, his tone softening. “But I’ve barely seen you this past month. You’ve been running off to the library or Shoko’s all the time. It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Musa froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She quickly recovered, forcing a casual tone. “It’s just schoolwork, Suguru. Midterms are no joke.”

He nodded slowly, but his dark eyes studied her carefully, as if trying to read between the lines. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve been so caught up with Shoko that I haven’t noticed what’s been going on with you.”

Musa’s guilt tugged at her, but she pushed it down, smiling brightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine, really. Besides, it’s nice to see you happy with Shoko. She’s good for you.”

Suguru’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, she is. She keeps me grounded.”

Musa chuckled, leaning forward. “And by ‘grounded,’ you mean she puts up with your nonsense and calls you out on it.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said with a grin, not even trying to deny it.

They both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen with an ease that hadn’t been there for a while.

“What are you planning to dress up as?”

“Pucca,” Musa declared, grinning. “It used to be our favorite cartoon, remember?”

Suguru laughed, the sound warm and nostalgic. “Yeah, I remember. You used to run around the house chasing me, yelling, ‘Garu!’”

Musa laughed along with him. “Well, I’m bringing her back for Halloween.”

“That suits you,” Suguru said with a smirk. “Shoko and I are going as a priest and a nun.”

"Seriously, a priest and a nun? That’s... a choice.”

Suguru chuckled “Shoko’s idea. She thought it’d be ironic and hilarious. Who am I to say no?”

Musa shook her head, laughing. “You two are something else. It’s so dark, but I kind of love it.”

“You should’ve seen her convincing me,” Suguru said, leaning back in his chair. “She said it’d be the talk of the party. ‘Suguru Geto, the rebellious priest.’”

Musa laughed harder, almost choking on her rice. “She’s got a point. You do have the vibe for it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes but smiling.

After a pause, Musa tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “So, what’s Satoru’s costume? Do I even want to know?”

Suguru groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t know. He says it’s a surprise, which scares me more than it should. You know how he is—he’ll probably go all out just to make a scene.”

Musa grinned. “Now I’m intrigued. I mean, it’s Satoru—how bad can it be?”

Suguru gave her a deadpan look. “You remember last year’s toga party?”

Musa winced. “Oh, right. The golden laurel crown. The glitter. The... extremely short toga.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up as, like, a vampire with a 12-foot cape or something equally ridiculous.”

They both dissolved into laughter again, the conversation flowing effortlessly. For the first time in weeks, Musa felt a sense of normalcy with her brother—a reminder of the bond they’d always shared.

As dinner wound down, Suguru glanced at her, his tone soft "You know I love you right sis?"

“I love you too Sugu,” her smile softening.

And for a moment, as they cleaned up the dishes together, everything felt almost perfect

------------------‐---------

Halloween night approached, Musa stood in front of the mirror in her room, her red dress laid out neatly on the bed. She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, sighing in frustration as she tried to gather it into buns.

“Suguru!” she called out, her voice carrying through the house.

A moment later, her brother appeared at her door, leaning against the frame with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Musa turned to him, gesturing at her hair. “I need help.”

Suguru blinked, looking mildly confused. “Help with what?”

“My hair,” Musa said, exasperated. “It’s too thick, and I can’t get the buns right. You’re the only one here, so congratulations—you’re my hairstylist tonight.”

Suguru sighed dramatically but stepped into the room. “Alright, Pucca, let’s see what we can do.”

Musa handed him a brush and some hair ties, sitting down on the stool in front of her vanity. “Half down, and the other half in buns. You think you can handle that?”

“Of course I can,” Suguru said, feigning offense. “I’ve mastered more complicated things than this.”

“Uh-huh,” Musa replied skeptically, watching him in the mirror as he picked up the brush.

Suguru stared at her hair for a moment, muttering under his breath, “You have way too much of this stuff,” before starting to brush it out.

“Hey!” Musa protested, laughing. “It’s not my fault I was blessed with amazing hair. Anyways your acting like yours is shorter than mine”

“Sure, let’s call it a blessing, plus mine isn't as thick nor wavy” Suguru teased, sectioning her hair.

As he worked, carefully parting her hair and securing half of it down, the usual teasing fell into a comfortable silence. The sound of the brush gliding through her waves was soothing, and for a moment, it reminded them both of simpler times—times when they were kids and used to help each other out without hesitation.

“Thanks for doing this,” Musa said softly, breaking the silence.

Suguru glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his expression softening. “Of course. You’re my little sister—it’s my job.”

Musa rolled her eyes but smiled. “Three minutes younger doesn’t make me that much smaller, you know.”

“It’s enough,” he replied, smirking as he twisted the first section into a neat bun.

They fell into silence again as he moved to the other side. Once he was done, Suguru stepped back, admiring his work. “There. Not bad, huh?”

Musa turned her head slightly, her eyes lighting up as she admired the hairstyle in the mirror. The buns were perfectly even, and the loose waves framed her face beautifully. “Wow, Suguru, you’re actually really good at this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a smug grin, crossing his arms.

Musa stood and gave him a quick hug. “Seriously, thank you. I owe you one.”

“You owe me about ten,” Suguru quipped, ruffling her hair slightly just to mess with her.

Musa swatted his hand away, laughing. “You’re the worst. Now I have to fix that!”

“Better hurry up,” Suguru said, heading for the door. “Shoko’s already texting me, saying she’s ready to go.”

“Alright, alright!” Musa called after him, shaking her head as she adjusted her hair.

For a moment, Musa stood there, the warmth of their shared moment lingering. Despite everything, Suguru was still the brother she’d always looked up to.

She quickly finished adjusting her hair, smoothing out any stray strands. As she turned back to her bed, she picked up her long-sleeve red dress, slipping it on carefully. The fabric hugged her chest and waist snugly before flowing out softly, the hem stopping at mid-thigh. She added knee-high black socks and wedge boots, completing the look with a satisfied glance in the mirror.

The outfit perfectly captured Pucca’s playful yet bold style, and Musa couldn’t help but smile.

Suguru’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Musa! If you don’t hurry up, we’re leaving without you!”

Rolling her eyes, Musa grabbed her phone and stepped out of her room. In the hallway, Suguru and Shoko were waiting. Suguru, dressed as a priest, looked his usual composed self despite the irony of his costume, while Shoko, dressed as a sexy nun, was grinning mischievously.

“Hury, we're already late,” Suguru said, crossing his arms.

Musa struck a playful pose. “Worth it, though. I look amazing.”

Shoko nodded in approval. “You do. Pucca never looked so good.”

“Thanks,” Musa said with a grin. “And you two look... disturbingly good. Very morbid. I love it.”

Suguru smirked, adjusting his collar. “We’re stealing the show tonight. No contest.”

“You might have some competition,” Shoko teased, nudging him. “I hear Satoru’s costume is going to be... something.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m mentally preparing for whatever nonsense he’s planned.”

The three of them stepped outside, the cool autumn air greeting them as leaves crunched beneath their feet. The faint smell of woodsmoke lingered in the air, adding to the Halloween ambiance.

As they walked toward Suguru’s car, Musa couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The night promised to be unforgettable—and full of risks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Suguru said, unlocking the car. “The sooner we deal with Satoru’s antics, the sooner we can all just enjoy the night.”

--------------------------------------------

The drive to Satoru’s house was lively, the car filled with the hum of conversation. Shoko sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone, while Musa leaned back in the rear seat, gazing out at the glowing orange streetlights lining the road. The autumn evening was crisp, the occasional breeze stirring the fallen leaves.

Suguru, ever the careful driver, had one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, glancing at Shoko. “If Satoru starts anything tonight, you’re on damage control.”

Shoko smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “What makes you think I can control him?”

“You’re the only one who even tries,” Suguru retorted, rolling his eyes.

Musa chuckled from the back seat. “Honestly, I think we should just let him run wild. It is Halloween, after all.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t encourage him, Musa. The last time we ‘let him run wild,’ we ended up explaining to campus security why there were goats in the library.”

Shoko burst into laughter. “That was a good one. Admit it, though—you had fun.”

“I had a headache,” Suguru corrected, though his lips twitched into a small smile.

Musa grinned, enjoying the banter. Despite her nerves about sneaking around with Choso, being with Suguru and Shoko always felt like home.

As they approached Satoru’s house, the faint thump of music became audible even through the closed windows. The sprawling property was lit up with strings of orange and purple lights, fake spider webs covering the hedges, and carved pumpkins lining the walkway.

Suguru parked the car, and the three of them stepped out into the cool night air. Musa adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric, while Shoko tucked a stray lock of hair back under her nun’s headpiece.

“Looks like we’re early,” Suguru said, scanning the driveway.

“Early?” Musa asked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s already a crowd inside.”

“That’s not a crowd,” Suguru replied dryly. “That’s the warm-up group.”

Shoko looped her arm through his. “Come on, Priest Geto. Let’s see what chaos awaits.”

As they walked toward the house, Musa hung back slightly, her heart pounding in anticipation. She knew Choso would be here—he’d promised. They’d already coordinated how to find each other without drawing Suguru’s attention.

They stepped into the house, greeted by the booming bass of the music and the chatter of partygoers. The air was warm and filled with the smell of cider and faint hints of sugary treats. Satoru, dressed in an over-the-top vampire costume complete with a dramatic cape and fake fangs, immediately appeared at the door.

“Welcome, welcome!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “My favorite trio has arrived!”

Suguru sighed. “Do you have to announce us like that?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with a grin, his fangs gleaming. His eyes landed on Musa, and he raised an eyebrow. “Well, look at you. Pucca never looked so terrifyingly adorable.”

“Thanks, Dracula,” Musa quipped, her confidence returning.

Satoru laughed, turning his attention to Shoko. “And my favorite nun! Forgive me, Sister Shoko, for I have sinned.”

Shoko smirked. “Don’t worry. Your penance will be delivered later.”

As they moved further into the house, the energy of the party surrounded them. Suguru immediately gravitated toward the quieter corner where some of their mutual friends were lounging, while Shoko slipped away to grab drinks.

Musa scanned the room, her eyes searching for a familiar figure. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Choso leaning casually against the far wall, his Garu costume unmistakable with the red gloves, heart-emblazoned black shirt, and his signature pigtails.

Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a small, knowing smile. Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she quickly schooled her expression, focusing on maintaining her cover.

They found themselves gravitating toward one of the main living areas, where couches and beanbags were scattered around a large television. People were mingling, drinks in hand, and the buzz of conversation filled the space.

Suguru leaned against the armrest of a couch, his casual stance at odds with his priestly costume. Shoko handed him a drink—a dark, bubbling concoction Satoru had labeled “witch’s brew.” Musa declined when Shoko offered her one, opting to stay sharp and keep an eye on Suguru’s movements.

“Is it just me, or has Satoru outdone himself with the decorations this year?” Shoko asked, gesturing to the fake cobwebs and glow-in-the-dark skeletons that adorned the room.

Suguru snorted. “That’s what happens when he discovers Pinterest. He’s been sending me mood boards for weeks.”

Musa laughed, imagining her brother enduring Satoru’s hyper-enthusiasm. “I mean, it does look good. But did we really need the fog machine in the kitchen?”

“The better question,” Shoko interjected, “is whether we needed two fog machines in the kitchen.”

They all laughed, their voices blending with the surrounding chatter. For a moment, Musa felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, sneaking around behind her brother’s back, and yet these moments of normalcy with him and Shoko felt so comforting.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Suguru said, turning to Musa. “What’s on your mind?”

Musa blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, nothing. Just soaking it all in.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t press. Instead, he took a sip of his drink and leaned back. “You know, it’s nice having you out like this. Feels like old times.”

Musa smiled softly. “Yeah, it does. I’ve missed it.”

Shoko tilted her head, watching them both. “We should do it more often. Minus the fog machines.”

“Agreed,” Suguru said with a chuckle. “Though I doubt Satoru would tone it down to something simple”

As if on cue, Satoru appeared, his dramatic vampire cape billowing behind him. “Are we talking about me?” he asked with a grin, sliding into the empty seat beside Shoko.

“Unfortunately,” Suguru deadpanned.

“Good,” Satoru said, ignoring the sarcasm. He looked at Musa. “You’ve been mingling, right? It’s not a party unless everyone knows you’re here.”

Musa raised an eyebrow. “I think your party is doing just fine without me making rounds.”

“Nonsense,” Satoru replied. “You’re the Geto Pucca. You’re obligated to make an impression.”

“She’s doing just fine blending in,” Suguru interjected. “Don’t make it weird.”

Satoru threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you change your mind, the karaoke machine is in the den. You’re all welcome to serenade us later.”

“Please tell me it’s broken,” Shoko muttered, earning a laugh from Musa.

“It’s not!” Satoru declared, already heading toward his next victim.

Suguru shook his head, sipping his drink. “This party is going to get out of control.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Shoko teased.

Musa watched them, a sense of warmth settling in her chest. Even with her secret relationship lingering in the background, moments like this reminded her why she cared so much about keeping things peaceful. Suguru deserved his good mood, and Shoko was always the glue that kept their group lighthearted.

Still, her gaze drifted back to the far wall where Choso lingered. He was talking to someone now, but his eyes flicked toward her for the briefest moment. Her heart quickened.

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to stay engaged in her brother’s conversation. After all, the night had only just begun.

Musa caught Shoko’s eye, it was a brief glance, but the small, knowing nod Shoko gave her was all she needed. Taking a steadying breath, Musa excused herself from the group and slipped through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers until she reached the quieter, less crowded side of the house.

Choso was already there, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw her approaching, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he teased, his voice low and smooth.

Musa rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the grin spreading across her face. “Suguru was hovering. I had to wait for the right moment.”

“And let me guess,” Choso said, pushing off the wall to stand upright, “Shoko was the distraction?”

“She’s the best wingman I could ask for,” Musa replied, stepping closer. “You should really thank her.”

“Maybe I will,” Choso said, his smirk softening into something more sincere. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her Pucca-inspired dress. “You look amazing, by the way.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed. “You’ve already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he shot back, the teasing edge returning to his voice.

Musa shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, huh?” Choso stepped closer, his tone playful. “Well, in that case, you’ll just have to dance with me to make up for it.”

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider. “Hmm, I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the dancing type.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” he said, offering his hand.

Musa hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand into his. Choso led her back toward the main room, where the music was louder and the energy palpable. The dance floor was packed, but he found a spot in the middle of the crowd where they could blend in.

The music shifted to a bass-heavy beat, and Choso turned to face her, his hands settling naturally on her waist. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, placing her hands on his shoulders.

They started to move, swaying to the rhythm of the music. At first, their movements were small, hesitant even, but as the song picked up, so did their confidence. Choso’s hands gripped her waist a little tighter, guiding her closer until there was barely any space between them.

Musa felt her heartbeat quicken—not from the music, but from the way Choso was looking at her. His dark eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She felt like everyone else in the room had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

“You’re not bad at this,” she said, her voice light despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Choso chuckled, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “Neither are you.”

Their movements became more in sync, a natural rhythm forming between them. Musa’s hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers brushing against the red heart on his shirt. Choso responded by pulling her even closer, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

Musa smiled, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “So are you.”

The next song was slower, its sultry rhythm setting a different mood. Musa’s heart pounded as Choso’s hands moved to the small of her back, his touch firm but gentle. She let herself relax into him, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as they swayed to the beat.

For a moment, it was just them—the music, the closeness, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

When the song ended, Choso leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, her pulse quickening as he took her hand once more. Instead of leaving the house, Choso led her through the crowd and up the stairs to the quieter upper floor. The hum of the party below faded as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the noise muffled by the thick walls.

--------------------------------------------

Choso leaned against the wall, his smirk returning as he watched her. “You’re really good at sneaking away.”

“Years of practice ” Musa winked, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Lucky for me,” Choso said, stepping closer. His voice dropped lower, softer. “So, what now?”

Musa’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, one hand coming to rest against the wall beside her. His other hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering against her cheek.

“This,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Choso’s lips curved into a soft smile before he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Musa’s fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, her knees weak as the world around them seemed to disappear. She could feel the faint chill of his tongue piercing, adding an intoxicating edge to the softness of his lips.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing heavily.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The kiss between Musa and Choso lingered, the moment between them so sweet, so private, that they both almost forgot where they were. But just as their lips were about to meet again, they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Before either of them could react, the door at the far end of the hall creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was Satoru Gojo—his tall figure framed by the dim light of the hallway. His vampire costume, complete with a dark cloak and sharp fangs, made him look both intimidating and oddly regal.

Musa’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Satoru!” she gasped, pulling away from Choso in a panic.

Choso, equally shocked, quickly straightened, glancing nervously from Musa to Satoru, who stood there with his usual smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Guess I’m not the only one sneaking away from the party,” Satoru said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Musa immediately stepped in front of Choso, trying to block Satoru’s view, her face burning with embarrassment. “Satoru, please… Don’t tell Suguru,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, studying her with an expression that suggested he was weighing his options. “Musa,” he said, his tone turning serious, “you’re taking a pretty big risk sneaking off like this. You know Suguru could show up any time, right?” His gaze flickered to Choso, and a knowing smile curled on his lips. “And you two, well…” He shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

Musa’s face was flushed with anxiety, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to handle this. She knew that Satoru wasn’t the type to keep secrets for long, but something in his expression suggested he was giving her a chance.

“Please,” Musa said again, her voice softer now, pleading. “I can’t have Suguru finding out like this. I’ll tell him soon, I promise. Just don’t tell him yet.”

Satoru stared at her for a long moment, his lips still twitching with a mischievous grin. “I can’t exactly lie to my best friend,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But... I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut for now.”

Musa exhaled in relief, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since Satoru appeared.

Satoru continued, his voice shifting to something more playful. “But you should tell him sooner rather than later, Musa. The longer you keep this a secret, the more awkward it’s gonna get. Trust me.” He gave her a teasing smile. “And don’t make me come up here again, okay? You’re making this whole thing way too fun.”

Musa nodded quickly, her face still flushed but thankful for his understanding. “Thank you, Satoru. I’ll tell him soon.”

Satoru's expression softened just a bit. “Now go back to Shoko and Suguru before they start wondering where you went. I’ll stay here and have a little chat with Choso.”

Musa’s eyes widened, but she nodded again, stepping toward the stairs. “Thanks again,” she muttered, her heart still racing as she made her way back to the party.

Once she was out of sight, Satoru’s smile faded, and he turned his full attention to Choso, who was still standing against the wall, arms crossed, clearly trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

“You and I need to talk,” Satoru said, his voice becoming more serious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he approached Choso. Choso’s eyes flicked to the door where Musa had just disappeared, then back to Satoru. “You’ve always got something to say,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable under Satoru’s gaze.

“You're playing a dangerous game” Satoru began, his voice low but firm, “She’s Suguru’s sister, if he finds out you're messing with her ..actually he will find out then you'll be dead”

Choso remained silent, his jaw tense as he weighed Satoru’s words. Satoru wasn’t wrong—Suguru was a force to be reckoned with, and if he found out about this... well, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

“I know,” Choso said quietly, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m not trying to make trouble. I really like her.”

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, though his smirk never fully left his face. “I can see that but you’ve got to think about the consequences, not just the fun.”

Choso nodded, though he still looked a little conflicted. “I’m not trying to hurt her. I just—it’s different this time, she's different. I don’t want to play with her, it's something I haven’t felt before" He paused, looking down for a moment.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Choso’s words. “You guys going to have to tell him soon. Suguru may be angry with you at first but he'll ease up eventually. ”

Choso gave a short, sharp nod. “I know.”

Satoru took a step back, his hands back in his pockets as he flashed a quick grin. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to figure that out. Just... don’t cause too much chaos, alright?”

Choso watched as Satoru turned and made his way down the hall, back toward the party. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair as he mulled over Satoru’s words.

Suguru will find out soon enough, he thought, the weight of the decision pressing on him. But for now, all he could think about was the way Musa looked at him when she asked him not to tell.

--------------------------------------------

Musa made her way back down to the party, feeling a little light-headed from the conversation with Satoru. As she walked toward the living room, she spotted Suguru and Shoko sitting on the couch, sipping on their drinks and laughing. Their conversation was lively, but when they saw her, their expressions softened.

"Hey, Musa," Shoko called out, a teasing smile on her lips. "You find your way to the bathroom okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Musa smiled awkwardly, trying to shake off the tension from the hallway. "Yeah, all good. Just... needed a bit of air," she said, her voice sounding a little too forced.

Suguru noticed her discomfort and raised an eyebrow, though he didn't press the matter. "Well, you're back just in time," he said, holding up a beer. "We were about to play a round of beer pong. You want in?"

"Yeah, come join us," Shoko added, her grin widening. "It’s going to be girls versus boys, obviously."

Musa’s stomach twisted for a second as she remembered the recent encounter with Satoru.

Before she could answer, a familiar voice interrupted. "Don’t leave me out!" Satoru said, strolling over with his signature playful smirk.

Musa’s heart skipped a beat. She had just spent the last few minutes with him, awkwardly navigating their brief conversation. Now, here he was, joining the game like it was no big deal. She tried to hide her discomfort, but the way Satoru’s eyes briefly flicked toward her gave her away. He knew what had just happened between her and Choso, and that made everything a little more complicated.

"Great," Shoko laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "The more, the merrier. Boys versus girls it is, then."

Musa managed a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Sure, I’m in."

She sat down on one side of the table with Shoko, as Satoru and Suguru took the opposite side. The game quickly kicked off, and the atmosphere lightened as the cups were filled, the ping-pong balls bouncing from one side to the other.

Musa found herself gradually getting into the game, her earlier discomfort slipping away as she focused on the competition. Shoko was always an expert at beer pong, but Satoru and Suguru were no slouches either. There were a few good-natured jabs thrown back and forth between the two teams, with Satoru mocking her aim and Suguru pretending to be shocked every time she scored a point.

"Nice one, Musa!" Shoko cheered, laughing when Musa made a perfect shot, sending one of the balls into one of the cups.

Musa’s competitive side kicked in, and she playfully teased, "I don’t know, I think I’m carrying the team here."

Suguru smirked, leaning over to Satoru. "Don’t let them get ahead, or they’ll never let us hear the end of it."

As the game went on, Musa felt the tension between her and Satoru gradually lessen. His teasing comments weren’t about her being caught earlier, and she appreciated that. Instead, he was focused on the game, making the whole situation feel more normal again. Still, she couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Choso across the room, wondering what he was thinking and hoping their secret would remain safe, at least for tonight.

Eventually, the game ended in a close victory for the girls, with Shoko giving a dramatic cheer as they claimed their prize of a round of shots. Musa’s mood lightened as she laughed with her best friend, the unease from earlier nearly forgotten. She was starting to have fun, despite the chaos in her mind.

After the game, Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, we lost fair and square. But just know, I’ll be getting you back next time, Musa."

Musa grinned, relieved that the tension between them seemed to have dissolved. "We’ll see about that," she teased back, as Shoko winked at her.

Musa felt more at ease now that the night had settled into a familiar rhythm,.

The night was winding down, and the atmosphere at the party was slowly settling into a more relaxed vibe. The sound of chatter and laughter echoed through the house, but at the beer pong table, it had become clear who the true champion was.

Shoko, ever the skilled drinker, had effortlessly outlasted Suguru in the drinking game, and now her best friend was slumped on the couch, looking a little worse for wear. Suguru’s face was flushed, and his movements were slow and sluggish. He'd been drinking a little too much, and it was starting to show.

Satoru, always the responsible one (when he wanted to be), had moved to help him. With a playful smirk, he slung Suguru’s arm over his shoulder and started guiding him toward the stairs.

"Guess I’ll be taking my best friend to my room for the night," Satoru said with a grin, glancing back at the girls. "You guys can crash here, or if you want, I can call an Uber to take you home."

Shoko, looking more than a little tipsy herself, gave Satoru a wave. "We’re good," she said, already making her way to the front door. "Call an Uber. No need to stay here, especially if Suguru’s going to be sleeping it off in your room."

Musa nodded, grateful that she wouldn't have to spend the night in the same house as her brother in his current state. She followed Shoko toward the door, her mind still slightly clouded.

Shoko stopped and turned to Musa with a sly smile. "You should call Choso," she said, her voice a little quieter now that they were alone.

Musa blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice low and cautious, though a hint of excitement bubbled beneath the surface. "I don’t want to make it too obvious, you know?"

Shoko gave her a knowing look, a slight grin tugging at her lips. "Of course I’m sure. You’ve been sneaking around this whole time, and now is as good a time as any for you two to have a little more alone time. Besides, you’re not going to keep him waiting forever, right?"

Musa felt a wave of nerves and excitement wash over her. Shoko was right, of course. It had been a while since she and Choso had been able to spend any real time together, and tonight had been full of so many distractions. She took a deep breath, her heart racing a little.

"I guess you're right," Musa said, nodding with a small smile. "Okay, I’ll call him."

Shoko gave her a playful wink before continuing to walk "Good girl."

Musa pulled out her phone the call Choso letting him know they're leaving and to meet her outside.

As they stepped out of the house, she noticed Choso leaning against his car just across the street, his figure illuminated by the dim streetlight. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he stood up straight with a casual smile, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, there you are," Choso greeted her, his voice warm and inviting.

Musa smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at the sight of him. She was finally getting the time alone with him that she'd been craving, away from all the distractions and pressures of the night.

"Hey," she said softly, walking toward him.

Before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been waiting by the side walk gave a playful wave to Choso. "You know, Choso," she called out, "you should take Musa home first. I’m good, the Uber’s almost here."

Choso turned to her with a raised eyebrow, offering a polite smile. "I could do that. But it’s no trouble, I can wait and—"

"No, no," Shoko interrupted with a dramatic wave of her hand, a mischievous grin on her face. "I’m fine. Go have fun, you two. I’ll be okay. The Uber will be here in a minute, and I’ll be home in no time."

Musa glanced between them, a little unsure. "Are you sure, Shoko?"

Shoko flashed her a wink and a teasing smile. "Absolutely. You two have a good time. Don’t keep him waiting, now."

Musa let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Alright," she said, though a part of her was still a little nervous. "Thanks, Shoko."

Choso opened the passenger door. "Shall we, then?" he said in that low, teasing tone that made her heart flutter.

Musa nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as she slipped in the seat of the passenger side. "Let’s go."

Shoko gave them a final wave before climbing into the Uber that just arrived, leaving them with nothing but the cool night air and the promise of some much-needed time alone.

Once they were inside the car, Choso started the engine, the soft rumble of the car filling the space. The drive was quiet, but comfortable—neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence. Musa leaned back in her seat, her mind racing with everything that had happened tonight, from the Halloween party to the kiss they had shared earlier.

Choso glanced over at her, his expression softening. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Musa met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "I’m good. Thanks for waiting outside for me."

Choso chuckled, a hint of mischief still in his eyes. "I wouldn’t have left without you. You know that."

Musa’s heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something about how he said it, how serious he sounded, that made her feel both a little lighter and more nervous all at once.

The drive continued with an easy, unspoken understanding between them. Musa wasn’t sure where they were headed exactly, but she was content to simply be in Choso’s presence, away from the chaos of the party and her family. Tonight was theirs, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe freely.

As the car came to a stop, parking into the driveway. Choso followed Musa to the front door, the quiet night only addig to the anticipation. Once inside, they both paused for a brief moment as the door clicked shut behind them, the stillness of the house amplifying the tension building in the air. Musa's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure Choso could hear it too.

She didn't say anything, with a glance at Choso she stepped closer, hands sliding up to his chest. Choso didn't hesitate - quickly closing the distance between the two, immediately leaned down to capture her lips. The kiss was slow at first but quickly became more urgent and hungry for desire. Musa’s hands roamed too his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as the intensity of the kiss deepened, igniting something in her that she couldn’t quite control. He licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance which was granted without hesitation. Their tongues fought for dominance and the little metal ball making Musa slowly lose her mind.

Choso’s hands moved to her waist, gripping gently but firmly as he slowly began leading her backwards. Neither of them broke the kiss, and soon, they were navigating through the dimly lit hallway toward her bedroom.

The air between them thick with tension, both of them knowing exactly where this is heading, yet neither of them in a hurry to rush it. Choso’s movements were deliberate, guiding her every step without breaking their connection, as if everything in the world outside of them had faded away. The moment their bodies brushed against the doorframe of her room, he leaned her against it briefly, his lips never leaving hers, before he gently nudged the door open with his foot.

--------------------------------------------

Once inside, Choso pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. "You sure?" He asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Musa’s answer was immediate, her hands tugging at his shirt to pull him closer again "I'm sure" she breathed out.

And with that the kiss resuming, with renewed passion. Choso’s hands found the zipper on the back of her dress, slowly zipping it down and slipping it down her body ever so teasingly. He gently pushed her down on the bed, guiding her down onto the soft sheets as he hovered over her. His hands were carefully caressing her body, never rushing as if savoring every second of this moment with her.

Musa’s heart raced, hands moving to tangled in his hair. Every touch sending jolt of electricity through her, she couldn’t think of anything else but him.

She couldn’t help the small noises that left her lips, the moment getting more intense by the second. Her hand trembling slightly but filled with determination, found the hem of Choso’s shirt. She hesitated for only a moment before tugging gently, signaling for him to take it off. Choso noticed her movement and pulled back from their heated kiss, dark eyes locking with hers. Without a word, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head with one swift motion, tossing it to the side.

Her breath hitched as her eyes traveled over his toned chest and arms, the piercing on his tongue now matched by the faint glint of a small barbell on his nipples. Choso’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as he caught her staring. But when his gace dropped back to her, his breath catching in his throat.

Musa layed before him, her long black hair fanned out over the pillows, her baby blue eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. She was clad in delicate lingerie that hugged her figure perfectly, her skin glowing in the soft light of her room. The black lace contracted her beautifully against her complexion, and the knee high socks added a touch of innocence that only made her look even more enchanting.

Choso exhaled slowly, his voice low and filled with awe. "You’re perfect" his tone so sincere that it made Musa's cheeks flush even deeper.

Her gaze flickered away, "Don’t say thay" she mumbled, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed how much his words affected her.

Choso leaned down, cupping her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing over her heated skin. " I mean it, you are perfect Musa, every single part of you"

Before she could respond, his lips where on her jaw, placing soft, lingering kisses along the curve. His free hand rested slightly on her waist, grounding her as he continued his tender exploration.

Musa let out a soft gasp when his lips trailed lower brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Choso paused for a moment, his warm breath fanning over her collarbone. He placed gentle kisses over it, careful not to leave any marks.

She couldn’t control the little moans escaping her lips, each sound making it harder for Choso to control himself.

He was treating her as if she were the most delicate thing he'd ever held, and yet there was an unspoken promise in the way his lips lingered against her skin - a promise that he wanted to worship her, to show her how much she ment to him.

Choso pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her eyes " Tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?" He whispered, voice filled with concern and affection.

Her hands finding his, fingers interlocking together. "Okay" her voice was soft, filled with trust and she leaned up to kiss him again, pulling him back into the moment.

Choso’s lips never left hers as his hands slid down her back, his fingers deftly finding the claps of her bra. With a soft flick , he unhooked it, the tension of the fabric realesing instantly. Musa froze for a moment, her breathing uneven, "Relax Princess" he softly whispered.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with hers, giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted. When Musa didn't protest, he carefully slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, discarding the fabric to the side. His eyes roamed her body with a look of awe, his hands moving to gently cup her breasts.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. His thumbs brushed over her sensitive peaks, and Musa gasped softly at the sensation.

He leaned down, his warm lips leaving soft kissed along her jaw, trailing lower until his pierced tounge flicked over her nipple. The cool touch of the metal sent a jolt through her, and she arched into him, one hand quickly flying to his hair and the other gripping the sheets below her.

"Choso..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, her body reacting to every flick and swirl of his tounge.

He took his time worshipping her with his hands and mouth, one tongue-twisting sensation after another building the heat between them that she could no longer ignore. Her thighs pressed together instinctively and she could feel the growing ache pooling low in her stomach.

Choso trailed his lips lower, kissing down her sternum and across her stomach, his movements slow. When he reached the waistband of her panties, he paused glancing up at her for permission. Musa nodded, her cheeks flushed and Choso smirked softly below pressing a gentle kiss just above her belly button.

Hooking his fingers into the side of her panties, he began to slowly, ever so teasingly pull them down. He loved how she squirmed under his touch, his eyes fixed on her face, to capture every reaction. Once the fabric slid down her legs, joining the pile of clothes on the side, Choso slightly leaned back to admire the view.

"You're perfect" he said softly

Before Musa couldd respond, Choso grabbed her legs, gently placing them on each side of his shoulders. He pressed a kiss inside her thigh, then another and another, inching closer to her core. Musa’s breath hitched as he finally dipped his head, lips brushing over her folds in the lightest touches.

Small noises of pleasure escaped her lips, and Choso groaned quietly against her skin, the sound vibrating through her.

When his tongue made contact, she gasped, hand flying to his hair. He started slow, his pierced tongue exploring her carefully.

"Choso, you're teasing..." she moaned, her voice high and breathless, hip bucking involuntarily.

"Patience princess, I want to enjoy every second"

His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as his tongue delved deeper, alternating between long, languidly strokes and and precise flicks over her most sensitive spot.

Her body grew hotter with every movement of his tongue, her moans getting louder. She couldn’t think nor speak, only feel as Choso worked her over with a skill that left her trembling beneath him.

"God, you taste so good" he murmured against her, voice muffled.

She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckle turning white while her other hand slightly tugging at his hair.

He shifted, angling his tongue just right while one of his hand slipped between her legs, teasing her entrance with a single finger. The combination of sensations was overwhelming and Musa’s back arched into his touch, her cries becoming more frantic.

Hearing her like this only encouraged him more.

"You're close aren't you?" He smirked

" Let go for me Musa, I want to feel you come on my tongue."

His voice was enough to send her over the edge, body tensing as the pleasure washed over her. Choso didn't let up, his tongue continuing it's ministrations to draw out every last tremor of pleasure until she was left panting and trembling beneath him.

When she finally relaxed, he pressed gentle kisses along her thighs before lifting his head, his lips glistening as he looked up at her. Musa couldn’t form words ,her body still tingling from the aftershock. She watched with hooded eyes as Choso stood and began to undress. Her eyes flowing his movements, glued to his body, down to his happy trail ever so slowly. When he slid his pants and boxers off, leaving him bare Musa’s eyes widened. God he's huge.

He leaned over her again, hand brushing her cheeks as his gaze locked with hers, "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

" I trust you"

"It might hurt a little at first, but if you want to stop at any point, just tell me."

Musa nodded and smiled nervously. His eyes flicked down to her knee high sock, a smirk tugging at his lips.

" I'm leaving these on, way too sexy to take it off of you."

Musa let out a nervous laugh, her face heating up even more.

Choso kissed her softly, his body settling between her legs as he slowly positioned himself. He interlocked his fingers with hers by her hand, as she lightly squizzed it signaling she's ready.

His other hand gripping her waist as he slowly inched himself inside of her warmth, allowing her to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

Musa gasped, her body tensing as she felt him strech her. Choso immediately paused, forehead resting against hers.

"You're doing so well," he whispered softly " Just breathe for me princess"

Her breathing slowed, giving a small nod, encouraging him to continue. Choso pushed further, bottoming her, he stilled, his own breath ragged as he fought to control himself.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

Musa opened her hooded eyes, small smile playing on her lips despite the painful strech.

"I'm okay"

Choso kissed her forehead tenderly as he pulled back just enough to set a slow rhythm. His thrusts were deep and measured, his focus entirely on her and how she responded. He wanted to know every inch of her.

Musa couldn’t control the soft moans that left her lips as the initial discomfort faded, replaced by a building pressure that had her gripping Choso’s shoulders.

"Cho..." his name leaving her lips like prayers.

"God, I love it when you call me that"

His pace getting faster, sinking deeper inside of her, drawing moans after moans out of her and each getting louder.

The room filled with the sound of their bodies moving together, their shared breath fogging the room.

Her soft cries of pleasure, the way her body arched to meet his every move to meet his thrusts almost drove him to edge, but he held back to savor this moment with her.

"Cho it feels...ah...s-so good,"

He groaned low, lips vibrating against her neck as he pressed kisses against it. Her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, bodies melting into each other as she was getting close. He noticed how her body's reacting, clenching down onto him, her moans getting louder, he new she was close and so was he.

"Let go princess, I got you"

His words encouraged her as she reached her climax, she cried out his name. Her body trembled, her walls tightening around him making him cum in an instant. He held her close, his arms wrapping around her as he rode out his high, breath ragged and uneven. The two of them layed intertwined, their body still trembling from the aftershock. "You’re amazing" pressed a gentle kiss on her cheeks.

Choso gently brushed a strand of Musa’s hair out of her flushed face, his thumb softly tracing her cheek. “Stay here,” he sat up and grabbed his discarded boxers.

Musa watched him with a tired but content smile, her heart fluttering at how thoughtful he was. He slipped on his boxer and disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth.

“This might be a little cold,” he said softly, sitting beside her and carefully wiping her down, his movements tender and deliberate. Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away, appreciating his gentleness.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and a little shy.

Choso offered her a small smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone warm. After ensuring she was comfortable, he discarded the cloth and helped her pull on a loose shirt she’d grabbed from the edge of her bed.

Once she was settled, Choso slid under the covers beside her, pulling her close. Musa nestled against his chest, her head resting over his heart as she listened to its steady rhythm. His arms wrapped securely around her, one hand gently running up and down her back in soothing strokes.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble in the dimly lit room.

“Very,” Musa mumbled sleepily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. “You’re really warm.”

Choso chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Good,” he murmured. “You deserve to feel safe and cared for.”

Musa tilted her head up to look at him, her baby blue eyes meeting his soft gaze. “I do with you,” she said honestly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso’s heart swelled at her words, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling her even closer. “Get some sleep, Musa,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Within minutes, Musa’s breathing evened out, and she drifted off to sleep, her body relaxed in his embrace. Choso watched her for a while, marveling at how peaceful she looked, before closing his eyes and letting himself be lulled into sleep, the warmth of her presence grounding him.

The night passed quietly, the two of them lost in their own little world, safe and content in each other’s arms.