#his heart was in the right place but they weren't

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Princess Reader)

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XIV. The Ambush (+18, Smut, MDNI)

Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt

Fate leads the willing and drags the unwilling.

H.

First day of the Funeral Ceremonies.

In the event of the Emperor’s death, his body was twice cremated. First, the body was burnt in the environment closest to the family, leaving this moment in the private sphere. After burning the corpses at the stake, the remains of the bones were laid in a mausoleum.

The second cremation had a symbolic dimension and was a public demonstration of the emperor’s apotheosis. Ceremonies of this type usually took place on the Field of Mars, outside the city. At that time, the wax effigies of the Emperor were burned, imitating the deceased.

On the first day of the ceremony, in the temple of Julius Caesar, right next to Marcus, you found yourself feeling somewhat sorrowful as you witnessed Caracalla's body being burned on wooden stakes. The flames soon rose, and some of the people attempted to discreetly add more wood to the fire, despite the presence of soldiers who had formed a circle around Caracalla's body. Some expressed their frustration, while others paid tribute to the deceased emperor. However, there was a notable absence of words of love, with the exception of those by Caracalla's mother, Julia. While her words may have been perceived by some as lacking sincerity, many others believed they were not, and thus, it was not seen as a significant issue.

As you held Marcus' hand at the top of the temple steps, you felt nauseous of the strong, unpleasant odour. Marcus put his arm around you and helped you down the stairs. The ceremony was already drawing to a close. When you got down the stairs, Geta and Julia came over to you while you were catching your breath. Now it was time for the evening ceremony to announce the emperor's will. All members of the senate were due to attend Domus Severiana in the evening, but this seemed unnecessary given that Caracalla would now be declared a tyrant and therefore any word or will would be invalid. However, rituals had to be honoured. Julia was reluctant to do so, as she had been closely involved with the members of the senate in the absence of Macrinus and had managed things well. And she could guess that Caracalla's will wouldn't make her happy.

But you were all taken aback when Macrinus showed up at the funeral. It was as if nothing had happened. Geta was so angry that he ordered the guards to arrest him, but it was no use. He wasn't trying to escape yet he was a member of the senate, so he was legally entitled to be there. There was no legal basis for the charges, despite Geta's desire to see him dead. Marcus was also furious, his hand on his sword ever since he saw him. But he couldn't kill him in public or even in secret. Well, not yet anyway. That is until Geta was officially declared the sole emperor and Macrinus was officially punished. He was running out of time, but instead of being afraid and running away, he was on the battlefield. This was his best move since he still held the vast majority of the Senate. Marcus had upped the number of his soldiers around the Palatine Hill as a precaution against any move or possible attack by him.

That evening, all the senators got together in the great hall for the reading of the will. Women weren't allowed, but you didn't seem to mind much. Julia was a bit of an exception though. You were in the courtyard when the scriba (chief clerk) announced the will. After a while, you heard a few murmurs and looked in that direction. The senators were now leaving. Your eyes seek Marcus. He was heading your way, adjusting the shawl he wore over his black toga. He looked pretty annoyed. Geta was right behind him, muttering and swearing under his breath.

“We need to get the Council together as soon as possible! I must stop this nonsense now!'

“I agree,” Marcus said as he approached and sat next to you.

"Is there bad news?" you asked, looking at them both.

“Acacius, that will have no force. I'll make sure of that and then that cunt will have no more excuses.” He waved his hand to the slaves. “Wine!”

“I am starting to have some concerns,” you whined.

"I wish I could say,  'no need,' but..." Geta said, throwing himself at the other lectus. His wine was served, and he drank it in one gulp and requested another. You put your hand on Marcus' back. He turned his head towards you, with a faint smile.

"Could you tell me what happened?"

"Caracalla. He’s sending him into exile," Geta replied for him. He took another sip of his wine. "And worse, he has suggested that the court order be issued for the offense of treason, which would result in the loss of his citizenship."

Your eyes widened. "What did you say?"

Marcus's expression confirmed what he had said. "They can't do that, can they?" You asked Marcus, but he covered his face with his hand.

"He couldn't get him killed, after all. He won the games and well earned his freedom, but he decided to exile him, also he said that day. But the denaturalization thing is ridiculous, it is too much. I am certain that is Macrinus' idea. According to law, your marriage will be annulled and you will be considered a widow.”

Your heart felt like it was squeezing, Marcus grabbed your hand.

"I told you that already!" Julia suddenly appeared next to you. "I told you how valuable you are, Aurelia, even as a widow."

"Don't get started, Mother! We're all on edge enough here!" He warned her, looking at Marcus, who was clenching his jaw in anger.

"If Macrinus had killed Geta, he probably would have got the will approved and your marriage would have-"

"Cease the nonsense!" Marcus yelled. He then stood up and pulled you with him. Julia stood dumbfounded.

"I warned you," Geta mumbled to her mother.

Marcus was so angry as he walked with you towards the stairs. He was holding your hand so tightly that it hurt. It seemed like he didn't realize that. He didn't say a word until he came into the room with you, and that upset you. You couldn't bear to see him like that, you wanted to lift his spirits and see him smile again, no matter what. He was still angry as he took off his bracelets. "I hate this!" He growled. "There's always someone or something trying to take you away from me. It is my deepest fear, like a curse that haunts me." He was taking his shawl off in anger but couldn’t do it properly.

You looked into his eyes as you grabbed the hem of the shawl he had wrapped around his waist, lifting it over his shoulder. "No one can take me away from you, my love. You need to have a bit more faith in that."

"If the Council agrees, they can exile me from Rome. Then I'll no longer be a General, I'll be a commoner. Being a soldier is the best I can do. I don't know what else I'm good for, but none of these is worse than being separated from you, my lady."

"Who said you'd separated from me? I would do whatever it takes to be with you." You said firmly. “I would exile myself from Rome if I had to.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "But you're a princess, and I'm sure you realise that giving up your fame or your title isn't an option."

You embraced him, your arms encircling his neck. "I would be willing to make that sacrifice for you. After all, what use is being a princess if I'm not going to be with you? You must remember that I was not a princess when we first met, my name was not Aurelia, but Aya, an orphan."

Marcus smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. "That's right, Aya. You were. My beautiful, innocent Aya."

"Innocent? Do you think I've lost my innocence? Or have you changed your feelings towards me?" You frowned, pursing your lips.

Marcus laughed. "I'm curious how you manage to be jealous of yourself. It must be a special talent of yours, my lady." He laughed again.

You shrugged. "You said 'Aya' so adoringly."

"You are truly astonishing. Once again, you have amazed me, princess. I'm left speechless." He leaned in and kissed you on the lips. "But would you truly consider going into exile with me as Aya?"

"I would be honored to do so if you would have me. With you, I am whole, without you, I am lost. We made a promise to each other, did we not? Where you are Marcus, I am Marca."

He nodded. "Where you are Marca, I am Marcus." His eyes sparkled as his fingers stroked your hair. "You're far too incredible to be ordinary. You must be a goddess." He kissed your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. "My goddess, I worship you. I love you, divine." He then kissed you passionately, adoringly.

"You know, this colour suits you, although perhaps not as well as your white armour, though," you murmured as you broke the kiss.

"Is that so?" He smirked. "Would you like me to share my thoughts about you as well?"

You nodded, smiling.

"I love you in every color of dress, I really do…" His hands worked skilfully, removing your stola and bracelets in a slow, deliberate manner. "However, my favourite look of yours," he said as he slowly removed your tunic, "is exactly like this." His brown eyes traced in your bare body from head to toe. "Your natural, pure beauty." His gaze soon became more intense, you could feel your cheeks flushing and your heart starting to beat faster. The light from the oil lamp illuminated your body, making your hair look more golden than ever, which he found very seductive. Marcus took you gently in his arms and laid you on the bed. He lay down beside you, put his arm around your waist, kissing your cheek tenderly. “Da mi basia mille, deinde centum, dein mille altera, dein secunda centum, deinde usque altera mille, deinde centum. dein, cum milia multa fecerimus, conturbabimus illa, (Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, and then another hundred, and, when we've counted up the many thousands, let us confuse them so as not to know them all).” He whispered, and he kissed your chin, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth. The poet and romantic Marcus was here. “Catullus,” he explained.

You smiled. “It's a beautiful poem,” you murmured.

He ran the back of his hand along the line of your collarbone and shoulders. "You're the most beautiful, my love."

His words were so lovely, soft, and arousing, and your body was already writhing to be his. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, he pulled away and got up from bed. Before you had a chance to ask what was going on, he walked over to the desk and opened the drawer. "I almost forgot," he said, holding out a key and showing it to you. "I simply want to ensure that we have some privacy." He walked to the door and locked it. When he turned to you, a childish smile appeared on his face. "It's better to be cautious."

You giggled. "I don't blame you.”

He put the key on the desk and stepped towards you. "Now," he said, putting his knee on the bed. "Where were we, my lady?" He crawled closer to you, with a predatory look. You bit your lower lip and put your knees together, in a teasing manner. "You still haven't taken off your tunic, general." His big hands gripped your knees. "You said you loved it," he whispered, his eyes travelling down your legs.

“I did, but I also love you most when you are not wearing any clothing."

He chuckled. "Do you really, my lady?" He glanced down at himself. "I believe I am in rather good shape, but my body bears many scars from the years. This is a soldier's body, after all, not a pleasant one, I suppose."

"That's not true." You said and got up on your knees. You helped him take off his black tunic. Marcus sat on the bed on his heels and watched you carefully as you ran your fingers over his body. You started with an old wound on his shoulder, then moved on to another. Each one had a memory, and you admired him again as he told you one by one when it happened. The most noticeable of his scars was the one on his abdomen. It was the one that almost killed him, the one you healed, and the one that made you two meet. Now it looked like it had always been there, like the others. You looked at his face then kissed it on the cheek where the wound was. "Your scars show how strong you are, how wonderful you are, how you can overcome anything. They make me love your body more, my love. The first time I saw you, I was struck by the scars you bore. I was really amazed." Your cheeks blushed.

He considered your meaning. "When I was lying unconscious in the tent?"

You nodded. "That's true."

"You never cease to surprise me, my love." He laughed. "Should I cut myself again then?" He teased.

"Marcus, don't be silly." You put your hand on his cheek. "I don't want to see you get hurt again.”

He smiled. ‘'Forgive me, my lady. Perhaps I'm a bit spoiled because I already have the magical cure." He grasped you by the hips, pressing his length against your entrance. "You are such a medicine, healing my body, my soul, my senses, my heart." He whispered into your ear. "My need for you is eternal. I'll never get enough of you." You wrapped your legs around him with a little moan as he laid you back. He was right - he could never get enough of you. Every time he kissed your lips, drank from your mouth, or tasted your skin, he did it with incredible need. You weren't complaining because you couldn't get enough of him either. It was something you couldn't put into words. You wanted it the same way every time, felt satisfied with it, then wanted it again and again. It was like a necessity for your survival. His lips met yours hungrily, and he pushed his length against your walls, making you moan from the sudden pressure on your most sensitive spot. You broke the kiss by arching your back backward. But it gave him the chance to play with your breasts as he pleased. They were already hard before his tongue even touched your nipples. As they'd been quite sensitive lately, just a gentle touch was enough to send you over the edge. However, he was licking, sucking, biting and nibbling them like it was the first time he ever did it, and he was clearly enjoying himself. After a while, no matter how much you resisted, he made you reach your climax with a loud moan. When Marcus felt your heartbeat quicken under his lips, he put his cheek between your breasts and listened to it. He then lifted his head to look at your face.

"As impatient as ever." He murmured. “You couldn't wait for me, could you, my lady?”

"You made me," you panted. "You were aware of how sensitive my breasts were."

"I'm afraid I cannot apologise for that," he said. "But you've been rather impatient lately, I don't think that's the only reason."

"Do you think so?"

"Hmm, I shall prove it," he said, making you roll easily. Your face and knees were turned towards the bed. He guided your hips up towards him, positioning himself accordingly. He put his hands on the bed, on either side of your body, since your walls were already rather slippery, allowing him to slide into you from behind easily. You let out a loud moan as you felt incredible pressure on your most sensitive spot. His muscular chest brushed against your back with each of his intense thrusts, but he was careful to avoid putting too much weight on you. Marcus gathered your hair at the back of your neck and rested his chin on your shoulder. He kissed your cheek and his lips slid from your ear to your neck, then to your shoulder, licking and tasting your flesh on their path. You traced your fingers along the strong arm he'd put on the bed to support himself. And finally, he managed to prove his point, making you come for him a second time. He wrapped his other arm around you and buried his face in your hair, reaching his own climax with a loud groan. He collapsed, and you liked his strong pressure on your vulnerable body. It made you feel like he'd just conquered you all over. Keeping his arm around you, rolled onto his side. Your breathing quickened again, but Marcus's lips were soft against your skin, helping your breath to settle.

Second day of the Funeral Ceremonies.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the soft murmuring coming from the courtyard and the knocking on the door. And then you heard the door handle being forced.

"Did you lock the damn door? How rude!" Geta's voice came through from the other side.

You opened your eyes and noticed Marcus was not in bed. You looked up and saw him sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing his burgundy tunic.

"I knew I couldn't trust him. It was no surprise. Wasn't it a good idea to lock it up?" He winked at you.

You sat up in bed and smiled. "I'm blessed with a man who is so handsome, so protective and so intelligent. Should I give you a kiss to congratulate you?"

He smiled and leaned towards you. "Yes, please."

You reached up and kissed him on the lips.

Before long, Geta's voice became more subdued, and the footsteps receded into the distance.

"I guess you'll be wearing your armour today."

"Yes, my lady, the second day of the ceremony will be held in the Field of Mars, so I need to be there with the general outfit of mine." He gave you a quick kiss on the shoulder and stood up. You reached down to pick up your tunic from the floor but you felt dizzy and fell back on the bed.

"Aurelia?" Marcus came over and sat on the bed next to you. "My Love, are you alright?" He put his hand on your forehead.

"I think I'm quite hungry, I didn't eat much yesterday."

"I will ask them to bring food for you. Please stay in the room and rest today. I may be back later this evening. I have to pay a visit to the governor afterwards." He said, helping you put your tunic on.

"The governor?"

"Yes, I need to find out where the slaves are and then I will go to check the villa."

"I'd better come with you." You were insistent.

"Aurelia," he shook his head in disapproval. "You simply stay here and rest. I'll find them and have them return to the villa, then we'll go home together, I promise." He took your hand and kissed the top of it. "I have to leave now." He stood up.

"I'll be awaiting for your return."

"Stay safe and rest well, my love." He smiled at you before leaving the room.

Marcus closed the door and made his way downstairs, calling out to Octavius as he walked. Geta heard him and came over. Marcus gave him a nod.

"Acacius, could you tell me where Aurelia is?"

"She's resting in her room, Your Majesty."

"I need to see her," Geta said, heading for the stairs, but Marcus grabbed his arm. Geta looked at him, squinting his eyes.

"She is not feeling well today, you know her condition. Let her get some rest." He spoke in a firm tone.

“Or she is not coming with us? But we'll be leaving soon for the ceremony. Is it safe to leave her here on her own? That wretched Macrinus is still on the loose."

"My soldiers will be waiting outside. The Praetorian guards are inside the palace, and they're loyal to you and the princess."

"I'm not sure, Acacius. Some of the senators are on Macrinus' side, which concerns me. It would be ideal to start ruling officially as soon as possible. I've been informed that the council can meet as an emergency no later than the day after tomorrow. So we must proceed with caution."

"We will, Your Majesty. Now, please allow me to dress properly and then be ready to leave.”

Once Marcus had left, you ate the food that had been delivered to the room and spent a little while resting there. But you soon found the room a bit boring, so you got dressed and left. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the slaves were busy with their daily duties. You went to the tomb in the palace to pay your respects to your father and then went back to the courtyard. Julia had returned from the ceremony and you observed her entering the great hall accompanied by a few people following her. Geta was not present, but it was possible that he was in the great hall as well. It seems likely that Julia was now providing guidance to her son in the running of the empire. You decided to ignore them and go to Cato to check his wounds. However, he was nowhere to be seen, so you walked to the entrance of the great courtyard. There you found him, standing by the gate with another soldier. Upon recognizing you, they saluted you.

“My lady.”

"Cato, I was looking for you. Are your wounds healing well?"

"Thank you, my lady. I am feeling better now. I am truly grateful for your help." He smiled.

"Have you two been standing here all morning? Have you had a chance to eat yet?"

They gazed at each other.

"My lady, the General's orders are clear. We shall eat once he returns." Aris said.

"Sister!"

You turned to Geta's loud voice. He was staggering a little as he walked towards you. Aris and Cato bowed to him. Geta came over, taking your arm.

“I didn't realize you were here,” you said, looking at him.

He let out a sigh. "Well, two funerals for our brother are too much for me to take. I left as quickly as I could. How are you feeling now? Acacius mentioned that you were feeling a little tired this morning."

"I am alright, now." You walked together towards the courtyard. The wound on his forehead was still a bit bad. "I guess no one has treated your wound yet?"

"Hm yes," he said, touching his wound. "Our insane brother has made sure we don't have a medicus here anymore." He let out a sigh. "Even my favourite slave died because of him, poor girl." Then he sat down on the lectus. "It hurts," he murmured.

You approached him. "I am truly sorry brother."

"I meant my wound, silly." He pointed at his forehead.

You smiled at him. "Let me bring you the ointment I prepared earlier." You said and walked towards the palace clinic.

Geta grinned. "If you insist that much."

When you returned with the ointment, you saw Julia sitting next to Geta with a few other women. You recognized some of them – they were your relatives from Leptis Magna. You figured the rest must be the wives of senators. They were all looking at you in a curious way.

"Princess Aurelia, is the child a boy or a girl?" One of them asked.

It was a bit of a strange question to answer yet you didn't want to be too friendly with them. "I suppose it's difficult to tell so soon," you said as you applied the ointment to Geta's wound.

"I have heard some people say that you will give General Acacius a son." One of them said.

"It is necessary to continue the General's family name after all." Another one said.

All of them looked at you, seeking to ascertain any information that might satisfy their curiosity. Julia laughed hysterically. "Aurelia's mother gave birth to a girl, just like her aunts. Given that she has so many girl cousins, I'd say this one will be a girl too.”

One of them, whose demeanor you found to be friendly, made eye contact with Julia and then with you. "After all, Lady Aurelia's mother gave birth to a princess, not an ordinary girl. It is always a possibility that you may give birth to a prince of Rome, my lady."

They all fell silent and glanced furtively at Geta. You put your hands on your belly and smiled. You were almost sure it was a boy, but you had no intention of sharing it with them.

"Stop the nonsense now! You gossipy old women! What difference does it make if it's a boy or a girl? It is going to be my nibling after all. Don't you have a home to go to? I've had enough of you today, so get out of my sight at once!" He waved his hand in a shooing gesture.

They all got up at with murmurs and headed towards the entrance. Julia squinted at you and Geta before following them behind.

"Thank you," you mumbled.

"Don't mind them, they must all be jealous of you."

"Jealous of me?" You asked as you applied the ointment to his wound.

He sighed. "I don't think you realise how splendid and significant you are." He said in a serious tone, like scolding you.

You looked into his eyes but he looked away. "I mean, you're a princess, that's what I mean."

You were startled by the sound of a deep, masculine voice clearing his throat. When you looked in that direction, you saw that Marcus was standing there. You were curious as to how much he had heard. He did not appear angry, or perhaps he was simply trying to keep his promise to you. You stood up and went towards him. You smiled when you noticed the flowers he was holding. They were golden-coloured trollius europaeus (globeflower).

"Or are those for me?" You asked.

"I thought of you when I saw them, my lady. Their colour reminded me of your hair. Did you like them?"

"Yes, they're so lovely, thank you." You said, taking the flowers from him.

"They're overshadowed by your beauty." He said, smiling. Your cheeks flushed.

"Oh, Acacius, you're so romantic!" Geta chuckled.

You both ignored him. "Are you hungry?" you asked. "Come, let me feed you." You said, taking his hand.

"Acacius, where have you been?" Julia asked, walking towards you.

You'd already seen enough of her arrogant face today, and it was starting to bother you.

"I could not see you after the ceremony. We need to talk.’

"I have been preoccupied with personal matters, Lady Domna. What is it?"

Julia looked at you and Geta. "Not here," she said, "Come to the great hall."

“You're so persistent, Mother,” Geta said with a sigh.

You gave your flowers to one of the slaves to take them to your room. Then you followed Julia and Geta to the great hall with Marcus.

"I've been keeping an eye on Macrinus' consuls for a while now," Julia said. You all gathered around the desk with some papers and maps on it. "I've been thinking about how we can get them on our side."

"We? There's no such thing as 'we'." Marcus said firmly.

You smiled when he said exactly what you said before, to the same person.

"You do want to finish Macrinus, don't you? I told you before, that if you had been made a consul by now, maybe we could have stopped him from becoming powerful."

"And I said I'm a soldier, not a politician."

"Yet here we are General. Don't you see how dangerous he is? Caracalla died because of him. Geta and you were close to dying too.”

He put his hands on the desk. "Once the Council declares Cracalla's death a rightful tyrannicide, his will, and all his acts become null and void. Macrinus will be nothing, and I will surely kill him then."

"Even if he dies, his consuls might still support him and not support Geta. I need to get rid of that threat. 'We're on the same side here. He wants something you and I have, right?'

Geta interjected. "I think Acacius is right, Mother. When I rule, Macrinus will lose everything he has. Then we'll kill him easily."

"You're underestimating him. Macrinus has been preparing for this for years, he is so smart yet close to his end now. We just need to give it the final push. I've already won over some of them, but a few are still on his side. I don't know what he's promising them, but if they vote on whether to honour Caracalla's will, he could win."

"We can convince them," You said. "If we tell them the truth; what he's done to Caracalla, how he manipulated him. Then there will be those who want to side with Geta, won't there?"

"You seem pretty sure you can convince them, Aurelia," she said, crossing her arms. "Do you have any idea how tough it is going to be?"

Marcus let out a sigh.

You decided to talk back to Julia. "Maybe they need something to believe in then? If we present Geta's possible policy of rule to them and if we can convince them that we need their support to build Rome's future together, those who are truly willing will accept it, won't they?"

"Aah! If they refuse, we'll slaughter them and do it for Rome! Remarkable, sister!" Geta clapped his hands.

"Is killing really the only solution for you?" you said, squinting.

"With your approach, we can only hope, Aurelia," said Julia.

"Lady Aurelia is right," Marcus said. "Emperor Geta needs to convince them." He looked at him sincerely. "They need to see that Macrinus has no power compared to the emperor himself. Show them that you are your father's son, Your Majesty. It's time to behave like a true emperor."

“Acacius, how dare you say that to me?” Geta shouted at him.

Marcus approached him with a stern look on his face. "You must show them, to your people, that you have changed, that you are capable of more than simply acting as a spoilt emperor."

"Don't cross the line!" Geta pointed a finger at him.

"Maybe later Acacius, we do not have time for that. My son is right," Julia said, crossing her arms. "Anyone who supports Caracalla, anyone still backing Macrinus, we must butcher them and seize all their assets. It will make the others fear and obey."

"This is insane,’’ Marcus growled. He looked at Geta. "Then how would you be any different from your brother, the tyrant?"

Geta thought for a moment, looking a little indecisive.

"That's why you wanted to speak with my husband, isn't it? This was not about politics. You want him to do your dirty work!" You walked over Julia. 

She ignored you. "If you don't, the Praetorians will, Acacius."

"I will not kill Roman consuls." He said firmly.

"Well, that's the last resort anyway. It might not be necessary. I've spoken to the consul Albanus' wife." Julia looked at Marcus a little weird way. "If all goes to plan, she'll help us get more than half the council on Geta's side. You must know her Acacius, she was your former wife after all."

Before Julia could say more, Marcus grabbed her by the throat.

"What are you trying to do?" Marcus yelled.

“Acacius!” Geta shouted. You froze.

Julia was having trouble breathing. You grabbed Marcus's arm with both hands and tried to pull it away from Julia's throat, but he was too strong, and you failed. There was pure anger in his eyes, the kind that always makes you feel scared.

"Marcus, please, you'll kill her!" You begged.

But he didn't. The guards drew their swords.

"General! Release the Lady Domna at once!"

"Acacius, are you mad?" Geta shouted. "Take your hands off her now!"

You knew you were the only one who could calm him down, so you touched his face. "Marcus, please, please! She's not worth it. Please! You promised me," you reminded him.

That's when he looked at your eyes and pulled his hands away. Julia started coughing violently. Geta put his hand on her shoulder. The guards sighed with relief and sheathed their swords with his signal. You grabbed Marcus' hand who was still looking at Julia with a deadly stare.

"Enough talk. We're going to retire to our room now." You said, looking at them, tugging Marcus to the outside. Julia was too shaken up to speak, rubbing her throat. Geta wrapped his arm around her, but he wasn't angry as he looked at you.

"Get out of my sight you two!” He said, hoping his voice sounded sharp. He then gave you a wink. You rolled your eyes.

Marcus was still visibly angry, but he didn't resist your tugging. When you left the great hall, it was his turn to tug.

"That's enough! We're not staying here any longer!" He yelled, his voice echoed across the courtyard. Cato and the others came running towards you.

"Where might we go?"

"Sir!" Octavius called out to him. Marcus stopped him by raising his hand.

He then looked at you. "I've spoken to the governor, and we now have some idea of where the slaves are. We must await the council's decision, however.”

"Have you seen them? Are they alright?" You asked. Marcus looked at Octavius, and so did you.

He didn't seem down anymore. "They'll be fine, my lady," he said with a half smile.

Marcus gave his shoulder a little tap. "I sent Octavius to check them. They'll be out of there soon and we'll return our home, together." He smiled.

"We will," you smiled back.

Marcus turned his head to Octavius. "I need you to get the horse ready a bit earlier than planned."' He said.

"As you wish." He nodded and left.

"But if we're not staying here, and if we're not staying in the villa either, then where are we staying?" You asked Marcus curiously.

He touched your face. "Can I ask you to be patient, my lady? I want to surprise you."

"Surprise me?" You raised your eyebrows.

Marcus smirked. "Make sure you get your things from the room because we're not coming back here again." He said as you walked to the room together.

It was fair to say you didn't have much stuff anyway, given that you were brought here by force. Your old clothes were in a bad state, so they were thrown away. Marcus told you to wear ordinary clothes, and you did. He dressed similarly too. Then you both put on your black cloaks to avoid attention outside. The bad memories you had of this room in the last few days had turned into good memories with Marcus there, so you never thought you would feel a little bit sad when you were about to leave the room.

"My love." Marcus wrapped his arm around you. "If you're not feeling well, we can stay here another night."

"No, I'm fine, we can leave, now," you said with a smile. He put your things in his pera bag and hold your hand. You looked around one last time before leaving the room, noticing the flowers he had brought you on the table. "Marcus! My flowers!"

He stopped you from going there by pulling your hand. "Why don't you leave them here? There are plenty more where we're going. Come."

"What kind of place are we going, I wonder?" You asked as you walked towards the stairs.

"Patience is a virtue, princess." He said, smiling cockily.

"It wouldn't be very virtuous not to answer the Princess's question, would it, General?" You teased him.

He laughed. "So as a princess, you're going to rule over your husband, are you?"

"Can't I?" You asked in a sweet voice.

He stopped and looked at you, his eyes were buttery and intense. "As if you had not already conquered me, as if I were nothing but your humble servant." His voice was really deep, and you could feel your heart beating faster. As he spoke, he brought his lips close to yours.

"Gods above! Are you abandoning me?" Geta's voice interrupted you.

You both looked back at him, his lips twisted like a little boy.

“We can't stay here any longer, brother.”

"But isn't your villa still under repair? And isn't it dangerous out there, Acacius? Where do you think you're taking her?"

"My wife, Lady Aurelia, will be with me. So there's no need to worry, Your Majesty." Marcus spoke in a firm voice. "The soldiers will stay here with you, please do not leave the palace until the day of the council."

Geta kept his eyes on you as if he couldn't hear him. "Make sure of her safety," he muttered.

Marcus squinted at him. "I will."

You sighed. "I'll be fine, brother. I wish you the best of luck with Lady Domna, though." You said quietly.

"I suppose I'll just have to hope that God Fortuna is on my side on that one.” He laughed. He then stepped closer and hugged you. Marcus tensed but remained still. "Take care of yourself and my nephew, or it'll be bad for you."

You smiled and nodded. Marcus squeezed your hand. "We'd better leave now. Your majesty." He bowed his head and turned around, pulling you with him.

The sun was about to set when Marcus stopped the horse on the slope of a hill. It had been quite a long and jarring journey for you. While you were on the horse, he walked the other half of the way so as not to tire the horse out with the weight of the two of you. Thankfully, you arrived soon after.

"My lady." He held out his arms and helped you down. It was a wooded area, with the city silhouetted in the distance, and the Colosseum was the most prominent silhouette.

"We need to walk the rest of the way. Do you think you can make it?"

"I believe I can manage, but this is the middle of the woods."

He smiled. "We're not quite there yet, princess." He took your hand, holding the horse's reins in the other. The path was uneven, with many stones and bushes along the way. After a while, you were sweating and out of breath. Marcus tied the horse and slung the saddle bag over his shoulder.

"We're almost there, let me carry you.” He carefully lifted you in his arms. He was considerate and careful when carrying you. After a little while, you became aware of a rumbling sound, which you thought might be water, and turned your head in that direction. After walking among a few trees, Marcus carefully set you down.

"We have arrived."

Your mouth opened in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. Beautiful meadow field with fresh grass and multicolored flowers in nature against a blurry blue sky with clouds. A waterfall was cascading on mountain rocks ahead, the trees with flowers blooming in heavy clusters all over their branches. The gentle chirping of birds and the soothing sound of the waterfall blended together, creating a harmonious ambiance. Could this be what Elysium on Earth is like?

You were blown away by the view. Marcus' arms wrapped around you from behind. "Are you pleased, my love?"

"Marcus, this place is incredible." You murmured.

He leaned down, rested his chin on your shoulder, and whispered in your ear. "A place where no one can find us or bother us. I think I've kidnapped a beautiful princess from the palace for myself." He laughed.

You turned your head towards him. "Oh, that can't be. I'll have to call for help," you teased.

"Do as you please, my lady." His hands grabbed your thighs and pulled against his crotch. "But I must say, no one can hear you here." He grabbed your chin, turned you around and kissed you passionately.

The kiss became heated and all-consuming. Marcus' eager hands quickly found the belt of your dress and quickly undid it. For a moment, you realised you were overexcited and then you tensed up.

"Marcus, are we really going to make love here?" you asked, glancing down at the grass and flowers.

He shrugged. ‘Why not? No one could come here. Besides, I have come prepared." He bent down and opened his saddle bag. "I must ensure my princess is comfortable." He took a linen blanket out of it and laying it down on the grass. Then he held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

As soon as you touched his hand, he pulled you to him, making you gasp. "Relax, my love. Only the birds can see us here." He slowly he lowered the straps of your dress down your arms. "Let them bear witness to our love." He gave you another kiss, and then he carefully slid your dress down your waist let it fall to the ground. Then he took you in his arms and carefully laid you down on the blanket.The gentle breeze from the waterfall caressed your back, but as your body was filled with a sense of desire, burning with lust, you felt no chill. Marcus removed his shawl and tunic with haste and lay down next to you. As his warm hands explored your body, you shivered with excitement at the change in atmosphere. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, a blend of primal and seductive.

"You look absolutely breathtaking lying in the meadow among the flowers." He said it in a husky voice. He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. His hands explored every inch of your body, while yours travelled over his shoulders. His warm and inviting lips traced a path to your chin, and his knee pressed firmly between your legs. He sensed your unease and knew how to ease it. He slowly moved his lips from your knees to your hips, and you opened your legs for him, your nervousness now replaced by desire. His strong hands gripped your hips firmly and he smiled triumphantly. All you could feel was his wet tongue, his lips and his beard tickling you as he continued to devour you, all of you. You let out a loud moan as Marcus licked, sucked and bit your aroused folds, most sensitive spot, taking you to the edge. You gripped the hem of the blanket and grass, as moaned loudly not caring if anyone could hear. Gasping for breath, you were surprised to feel the grass between your fingers that you had unintentionally plucked. Marcus wiped your wetness from his chin with his fingers and licked it and settled between your legs. You put your arms around his neck as he kissed you adoringly, hungrily. Both of you savoring the unique feeling of him having you on the meadow under the dark sky. His eager thrusts got deeper, and your back arched, making you look up at the sky. The light was fading, and the birdsong had given way to the sound of crickets. He placed his big hand tenderly under your head as if it were a special pillow for you. His other hand gripped your thigh possessively. His lips traced over your flesh more tenderly and possessively than his hands as he made you his. After a few wonderful thrusts from him and a cry of pleasure from you, his hand grasped the nape of your neck and his mouth found yours. He groaned loudly, almost animalistic as he filled you with his hot liquid, accompanied by the sound of water cascading in the darkness. It was a rather blissful sound to hear. He rested his sweaty forehead between your breasts and remained until your breathing settled. As you ran your fingers through his hair, you felt his lips curl into a smile on your belly. Then his lips moved from your sternum to your collarbone, to your chin and finally to your lips. When his big body was pulled off of you, the cool night wind licked your damp body and made you shiver.

"You must be feeling cold, my lady," he said, standing up.

"A little," you said, hugging your arms, and rubbing them.

Marcus returned with another blanket. He wrapped it around you quite tightly.

"You came well prepared, General," you giggled.

"I told you so," he smirked. He put on his tunic and started picking up some twigs. "I need to start a fire, so you won't be cold anymore." He said.

You watched him as your whole body was wrapped in the blanket. He picked up some stones from around and put them on the grass. He put the twigs and woods he'd collected in the middle of the stones and opened his saddle bag again. He picked up a flint with a sharp point and a piece of steel, the materials needed to start a fire. He put the flint in the thin bushes and struck the flint with the steel in his hand, and after a few strokes, a spark appeared. Marcus blew on the twigs and it burst into flame. You smiled and clapped your hands. "Impressive, General.”

"The perks of being a soldier, I suppose." He said, smiling, as he threw a few thick sticks and pieces of wood on the fire. You wanted to move closer to the fire to warm your body up, but Marcus had swaddled you like a baby, so you couldn't move. He laughed at your stubborn effort and came to you, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to the fire. You tugged the blanket and spread your arm to the side, inviting him in. "My love, the fire is good but I need your warmth, will you?"

He smiled. "Whatever my lady wishes for I shall treat as a command." He said and sat down next to you and snuggled up to you under the blanket. His arms wrapped around you and made you lie down with him. "There's no moon tonight, so you can see the stars clearly," he said.

He was correct in his assertion, that the sky had a marvelous sight, akin to a feast of stars. The wood burning with crackle and the sound of the waterfall cascading, as if determined to flow forever, the crickets and the two of you breathing, and the stars themselves—all these elements combined to create a scene that was nothing short of sublime. You simply enjoyed gazing at the stars until you felt your eyes growing heavy.

The day before the Council.

As the first light of the day began to illuminate the meadow with its gentle yellow light, the birds had already started their cheerful songs, welcoming the new day. You continued to listen to the sound of the waterfall and the song of the birds without opening your eyes, and after a while, when the bright sunlight filtered through the trees and fell on your eyelids, you closed your eyes tightly. However, you then became aware of a certain darkness, as if a shadow had fallen, and you decided to open your eyes. When you did so, you were somewhat surprised to see that Marcus's big hand was right above your face. Had he perhaps been protecting you from the sunlight? You took his hand, brought it to your lips and kissed it.

“Morning.” You murmured into his palm, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips.

"My lady, I've decided to forego making a list, but I wonder if I might call this morning the best morning ever?"

"You may do so, General." You smiled.

He smiled back, then locked his eyes on yours. "Your eyes shine almost green in the sunlight like an oasis in the desert, so beautiful." He touched your face with his hand and leaned in to kiss you, with love, passion, and devotion. "You must be hungry," he said after breaking the kiss. He lifted the blanket from around himself and stood up. You sat down and looked at him curiously.

"Did you bring food too?" You asked while you were fixing your hair, taking a few leaves out with your fingers. You got up, found your tunic in the grass and put it on.

"I need to make sure my princess is well-fed." Marcus returned to your side with the bundle in his hand. He sat down next to you and undid the bundle's knots, taking out a few pieces of bread and fruit. He popped a piece of bread into your mouth and then into his own. He peeled the apple for you and made sure you ate it all.

"My lady, I must give this back to you."

"Hmm?" When you looked at him he was holding your scabbard in his hand. You opened your eyes wide and grabbed Marcus' wrist with both hands. "Marcus! This was poisoned!" You shouted.

"Calm down, my love. I've washed and cleaned it. Look." He pulled the knife out of its sheath with a sharp metal sound, it was shining brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Then, you know what I've done." You mumbled. You bowed your head, that tormenting feeling was there again. He put a finger under your chin and lifted your head to look at him.

"I know, and I'm proud of you. Honestly, I'm impressed, I don't think even I could have thought of such a thing." He kissed the tip of your nose. "I've fallen in love with you once again, princess."

You raised your eyebrows. "Really?"

"Indeed. I think it's an act quite befitting the wife of a Roman General, so you needn't feel guilty, my love."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your head in his collarbone. "Thank you. I don't feel guilty anymore, I guess."

He wrapped his arm around you. "Good. It's a relief to know that he died in the same pain I suffered before.”

You felt a pang of sadness when you thought about how you'd seen him suffer the first time you saw him.

You heard a horse approaching, its hooves striking the ground with a sudden, startling noise. Marcus quickly stood up and reached for his sword. "You stay here," he said, gesturing with his hand. It sounded like it was coming from where you first came from. Marcus drew his sword and made his way forward with caution. You got tense, but then he put his sword back in its sheath.

"Octavius," he said quietly, looking at you and then walking over.

"Sir!" You felt a sense of relief when you heard Octavius' voice. He gave you a salute from a distance.

"Why have you come? Is something wrong?" Marcus asked.

"The Council has decided to meet urgently today, sir."

"How? It was scheduled to meet tomorrow."

"Sir, I believe it was a unanimous decision, although I'm not entirely sure. I am here to inform you and also..." Octavius looked at you hesitantly.

"Continue."

"Lady Aurelia must be in the palace, as Caracalla's act has not yet been invalidated and she is therefore still under house arrest. The Praetorian guards are looking for her everywhere."

Marcus clenched his jaw. "Damn you Caracalla." He hissed.

You stood up and approached the two of them. "If that's what it takes, I must go, Marcus. I will be free after the council declares so, right?"

"No, something doesn't feel right. And I can't just trust the guards with Macrinus still out there. That cunt will surely do something to disrupt the council."

"So what do we do, sir?”

"It would be best for her to wait elsewhere until the council has made its decision."

"Where else can I stay for the time being?" You asked, looking at him.

"Somewhere where he or the guards can't find you easily," he murmured. Then something must have occurred to him because he smiled and turned to Octavius. "Inform a few men and station them by the poorhouse. Lady Aurelia will stay there until the council is over."

"Yes, sir."

"Off you go, quickly!"

Octavius nodded and rushed towards his horse.

"Will I be staying in the poorhouse?" You were surprised.

"Yes, my lady, it is safer for you to stay there. Most of the Praetorian guards are still on Macrinus' side. Why do you think I put men in the palace in the first place? Come now my love, I need get you to there as soon as possible.”

Upon your arrival at the poorhouse, you were greeted by the soldiers he had sent for, who were already there. You were feeling somewhat fatigued. The children approached you and gathered around you, expressing their longing for your presence. You smiled at them, although your body was rather tired. Marcus was quick to perceive this and called out to the women in the vicinity.

"Prepare a seat for the princess to make her comfortable."

They nodded and carried a lectus to the courtyard. Marcus made you sit and knelt down next to you, taking your hand in his.

"My love, please await here patiently. Once this is all over, I shall send the carriage to retrieve you."

"Do not concern yourself with me. Please attend to Geta at the council; he will need your presence, there.”

He nodded. "It will all be over soon, my lady and I will then be solely focused on exploring the possibilities of returning home from my duties at an earlier hour." He kissed the top of your hand and stood up. "I will arrange for you to be taken as soon as the council makes a decision.” He said, mounting. He looked at you one last time before he kicked his horse forward. You smiled at him.

Once he'd left, you closed your eyes and leaned back to get some rest. The soldiers who had stayed to keep an eye on you spread out and, like you, waited to see what the council would decide.

After a short rest, a few of the boys you had met earlier approached you and asked you questions about Marcus. They saw him as a hero. You had a long chat about his armour, his sword and the tigers he killed in the Colosseum. You found yourself hoping that one day you might be able to have a chat with your own children about their father and his victories. You had hoped to give Marcus a son. You hoped to raise a son who was as brave, fearless, and good-hearted as Marcus.

It was not long after noon when the sound of a carriage's wheels and the echo of horses' hooves pounding on the stone streets was heard. When the soldiers gathered there, you stood up and looked around curiously. One of the soldiers then demanded that the coachman identify himself.

"Sir, General Acacius sent me here to take Lady Aurelia to Palatine Hill." He said to them.

"Has the Council announced their decision?" You asked.

The man bowed his head. "Forgive me, my lady, I am not yet informed, I am merely following orders, the General has ordered me to take you."

"We will accompany you, my lady," said one of the soldiers.

You nodded. Marcus had given them strict orders, after all. One of them helped you into the carriage and you sat down. The council meeting was over sooner than you thought it would be, but Marcus wouldn't have sent it for you if the decision hadn't been made. You couldn't wait to get back to him and then back to the villa together. You were filled with excitement.

However, the carriage suddenly stopped with a loud horse neighed. You gripped your seat tightly to prevent yourself from falling.

"My lady, forgive me!" the coachman called out to you.

You peeked out the door to see what was going on. The road ahead was obstructed by the overturned carts of market vendors. It seemed as though the owners of the carts were engaged in a discussion.

"Head to the other way, turn round now!" One of the soldiers shouted at the coachman. He then turned toward you. "My lady, please get inside and sit down."

You did as he said. The coachman turned his horses in the other direction and entered a narrow alleyway, causing a slower pace of travel while the soldiers followed the carriage from behind. After traversing a few streets, the coachman brought his horses to a halt once more. And before the soldiers had a chance to react, they were struck by arrows that came from nowhere. When you heard horses neighed loudly by fear, you rushed out and were shocked by the sight you saw. They had fallen from their horses and perished from the arrows that had struck their bodies. You looked ahead and saw a few Praetorian guards with bows in their hands.

"Lady Aurelia."

A chill ran down your spine as you heard the familiar voice. You turned your head slowly to face him.

Macrinus approached you with an arrogant grin. "Did you miss me?”

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[wheeboo]

caught in bloom, caught on you | xu minghao

SYNOPSIS. in which you find yourself becoming a regular𑁋or perhaps more than that𑁋at minghao's flower shop. PAIRING. florist!xu minghao x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, a pinch of angst, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers WARNINGS. hao basically falls in love at first sight HAHA, mild cursing, implied that yn lost someone close to them, a lot of yearning n pining, kissing WORD COUNT. 8.3k

notes: wheeboo is NOT in their short-ish fic era anymore and is in their long-ish fic era rn 😭 anyway,, i didnt have a title for the fic until hao posted his song on his birthday so... I hope u all enjoy?? this might be one of my faves haha

Minghao likes these kinds of days.

Thin, irregular shapes of cotton drift lazily across the endless blue embrace of the skies. The afternoon sun carries warmth in its hands that he could feel right through the glass windows of his flower shop. It's almost as if the season of summer itself is breathing through his shop, softly encouraging his little garden to reach for the light.

Minghao runs his slender fingers through the cool edges of a hydrangea, its soft petals a deep shade of prismarine.

Ever since he was younger, his mother had told him that flowers weren't just things to be cared for. They were companions, your friends if you'd let them be, each blooming with all different kinds of personalities.

He likes how the flowers didn't ask for much; they simply needed patience and care, and in return, they gave him a sense of peace that he couldn't find anywhere else.

The sudden chime of the bell pulls him from his thoughts. He straightens up, wiping his hands on the apron tied loosely around his waist, and glances toward the door.

The figure the walks through the door is unfamiliar, yet it's easy to catch the way the sunlight highlights the edges of your silhouette, almost like a halo as you step inside the shop. For a moment, Minghao is simply taken aback by the quiet grace of your entrance, the way the afternoon light seems to favour you.

Your gaze circles around the shop, taking in the rows of flowers with a soft curiosity. There's some sort of quiet hesitation in your movements when you take a few more tentative steps inside, as if you're trying to find the right place to be in this space, just as much as you're trying to find the right flower.

Minghao finds himself clearing his throat, drawing a polite smile across his lips and catching your attention right away.

"Good afternoon," he greets calmly. "Can I help you with something today?"

You glance up at him, a slight surprise in your eyes before they soften.

"Hi, um... Yeah, I was actually looking to see if I could buy some flowers. The shop I went to before closed down, so I've been searching for a new place. It was a bit of a drive." Then you hesitate briefly, before continuing, "I'm not sure what to look for exactly, but something for a first date would be nice."

Minghao's heart stirs a bit disappointingly at that, though he quickly suppresses the feeling away. After all, it's just flowers, and you're simply here to buy them for someone else.

He nods thoughtfully, giving a soft, understanding look.

"Ah, well. Congratulations first of all on the date," he says calmly, though the nerves itches his fingers. "A first date is always special, isn't it?"

"They are," You reply sheepishly, and the hint of a blush to your cheeks nearly resembles the colour of the roses displayed near the window.

"Is there a specific kind of vibe you're going for?" Minghao asks. "I can help you pick something that feels right."

You pause for a moment, eyes lingering on a beautifully-painted vase. "Hmm, I think... something romantic, but not too traditional, if that makes sense? Not something too cliché, you know, but I also want it to feel special."

Minghao simply hums in response, his mind sifting through the variety of options he could think of. There's this odd sense of responsibility within him to make your choice is beyond perfect.

"Roses are always a classic," he begins. "but they're quite conventional, so..."

He can sense you following closely to him as he walks toward another part of the shop.

"These are tulips," Minghao explains, gesturing to a row of soft, voluminous blooms in shades of pale pink and coral. "They're not commonly picked like roses, but there's a nice charm about it. They're meant to represent long-lasting love."

You take a good look of the flowers, and you're amazed by how bright they appear.

"Wow, they're so beautiful." Then you take a small glance up at Minghao, before back down at the flowers. "You must really take care of these flowers to make them look this vibrant."

"I try my best," he mutters quietly, watching as you continue to take in their beauty. "Each flower has its own needs, but with patience, they show their beauty. Much like people, I suppose."

Your eyes flicker back up at him, and for a moment, there's a quiet stillness between you, as if the space between you two is holding its breath. Then you let out a warm, somewhat nervous chuckle.

"I think I understand," You say, taking a step closer towards the tulips  and carefully running a finger over its petals. "It's about giving them space to grow, right? Not forcing them to be something they're not."

There's something about the way you speak, something thoughtful, almost as if you also understand the language of patience he's grown so accustomed to.

"Exactly." He smiles faintly. "That's what I like about flowers𑁋they don't rush. They just exist, and somehow, they slowly become what they're meant to be."

You lift your gaze to meet his, and in your eyes, Minghao sees something more than just curiosity. There's a softness there, a sincerity that draws him in. At his sides, he feels his fingers twitch slightly, but he quickly smooths his hands down his apron.

It's strange how a simple conversation about flowers can make him feel so... connected to someone.

"I think these are perfect," You tell him, eyes brightening with confidence.

A wave of satisfaction washes over Minghao, who nods in agreement.

"Would you like me to wrap them up for you?" he asks.

"That would be great, thank you," You respond with that cute grin of yours𑁋it seems more relaxed now. The thought makes his heart flutter.

Minghao begins to wrap the delicate stems with some brown wrapping paper, carefully arranging them so they're secure. As he ties a ribbon around the bouquet, he can't help but sneak up a glance at you. You're wandering around the shop with your hands clasped in front of you, looking at the other arrangements on display, and he smiles to himself.

He finishes the bouquet and smooths out any remaining creases with his fingertips. When you make your way back over to him, he offers it to you.

"Do you want to write your name on a gift tag?" Minghao asks, holding up a small card and a pen. He doesn’t know why his heart's beating faster𑁋perhaps it's the subtle hopefulness in his voice that will make your name linger longer, even after you leave.

You glance at the pen in his hand, considering it for a moment before nodding.

"Sure, I'd love to," You tell him with a faint smile, snatching the pen from his grasp, giving it a quick click before writing something down, the tip of your tongue just barely peeking out in concentration.

When you finish, you hand the card back to him. He takes it from you carefully, inspecting your neat, intricate handwriting. It's simple, yet there's a certain elegance to it it. Minghao reads it under his breath: For someone special, who I hope feels the same - Y/N.

Y/N, he repeats in his mind.

"I'll finish it up for you now," he says, placing the card with the bouquet. He arranges the flowers once more, making sure everything is perfect before handing it to you.

You find yourself fishing into your bag for your wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

Minghao hesitates for a moment, his fingers hovering over the register, but there's something about the way your features soften and how your eyes meet his that makes him pause.

"It's on the house."

You stop your hands, peering back up at him with a surprised look. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Of course," he assures calmly. "It's the least I can do."

You just blink at him a few times, a soft chuckle escaping your lips.

"Thank you," You let out sheepishly as you take the bouquet in your hands, the ribbon slipping through your fingers as you carefully adjust it. There's a split second that passes where you sneak a glance at the nametag on his chest. "I really appreciate it. I'm sure they'll love them."

Something in his chest tightens at that𑁋they'll love them. Minghao tries not to overthink it, tries to ignore the brief twinge of something unsettling in his chest.

But you're smiling, so he smiles back.

"I hope so," he replies gently, and with a polite bow of his head, he adds, "I'm sure they'll appreciate the thought behind it."

As you walk towards the exit, you take a final look around the shop, eyes lingering on the shelves of flowers, before turning back to Minghao.

"I'll be sure to come back," You say brightly, and the way the afternoon sunlight pours down all around you in the doorway makes you appear almost angelic. "Thank you for everything."

"I'll be here," Minghao responds, offering a small, timid wave of his hand. "Take care."

The chime of the bell above the door announces your departure, and a sigh leaves him.

It's just flowers, he tells himself again. Just flowers.

And flowers𑁋like people𑁋don't rush.

Minghao finds himself wiping away some spilled soil on the counter, the soft hum of piano music drifting throughout the quiet flower shop. He had just gotten done cleaning up after a busy morning of rearranging a few displays around the shop to tie into the slow seasonal changes that were beginning to take shape outside.

The shift from the warm tones of summer to the cool shades of autumn had arrived, bringing a new, fresh palette for him to play with. Chrysanthemums, petunias, dahlias, and marigolds were beginning to make their way into the shop, taking their place next to the peonies and roses that had been so meticulously cared for.

When the last bits of soil are wiped away, Minghao steps back to admire the beauty of the shop around him, he takes in a deep inhale, letting in the earthy scent of the fresh blooms fill his lungs.

After storing away a few extra vases in the backroom, the chime of the door hits his ears, and Minghao finds himself straightening back up to greet whoever had come inside.

When looks up, however, he freezes for a moment. He catches you standing in the doorway, and Minghao has to blink a few times to make sure his mind wasn't playing any tricks on him.

"Hi, again," You're the first to greet this time, and then that grin spreads across your face once again, one that seems all-too familiar.

Minghao leans against the counter. "Back so soon?"

"I was just in the area, couldn't help myself, you know..." You drawl with a playful shrug. "I actually just officially moved into the city just last week, hopefully to be closer for this new job and well... The drive here isn't as long as before."

Minghao smiles softly. It's an unexpected but pleasant surprise for you to admit all that to him, and for some reason, it makes him feel a little lighter.

"That's great," he responds, pushing himself off the counter as he straightens up. "I imagine that must be a relief. How do you like it so far?"

You step further into the shop, your eyes eagerly scanning the new arrangements he's set up.

"It's been great, actually," You say with a relieved look. "Life has been... good, honestly. I think the city suits me. It's different, but in a positive way, and I'm already surrounded by a lot of nice people."

This warm and genuine feeling tugs at Minghao's lips as he listens to you, adjusting the stems of a vase full of a plethora of zinnias.

"I'm assuming that date from before went well then?"

His words makes the smile on your face flicker, and the change is subtle but noticeable enough for Minghao to catch it, even when he's not directly looking at you. You shift your weight between your two feet, and the way you glance around the shop seems almost like you're trying to distract yourself from something.

"The date didn't go well at all, actually."

Minghao's fingertips pause on the cold surface of the vase, brows furrowing in a bit of surprise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he apologises gently, regretting for the sudden change in mood. "I didn't mean to bring up anything uncomfortable."

You let out a small, rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "No, no, it's okay. Really."

The air seems to thicken a little. You could only stand and watch for a few long moments as Minghao moves gracefully around, tending to all the flowers with his usual care.

After a long pause, you finally break the silence.

"It was good at first, I think, then it just became... awkward. Like really awkward. I thought I had everything planned out𑁋good place, nice flowers, all that jazz... but I guess it just didn't click. I think we both kind of felt it." You feel your shoulders deflate in a pit of defeat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you run a hand through your hair. "I don't know why I just rambled all that. Sorry about that."

Minghao doesn't say anything at first, simply giving you some space, but he feels his heart tighten in his chest. He casts his eyes on you, also unsure why you're telling him this or why it feels important to him, but he knows it's a moment of vulnerability𑁋a rare one𑁋and he wants to handle it with care.

"No need to say sorry," he reaffirms, tone soothing. "Sometimes things don't go as expected, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it wasn't meaningful."

You glance towards him, catching the sincerity dripping down from his words. It catches you by surprise at how almost... comfortable it feels to be open right now, with him. The atmosphere here doesn't demand anything of you.

"As people, we try so hard to make things go right that we forget to just... let them unfold naturally," he says softly, as if thinking aloud. "I think sometimes things don't work out because we're not ready for them yet, or maybe they're not the right kind of flower at the right time. You can spend so much time trying to arrange them, placing them in the perfect spot, hoping they'll just fit… but sometimes they don't. And that's okay."

You can't help but quirk a playful lip at that, but you can't resist the way his words appear to tug right at your heartstrings. "Are you comparing me to a flower?"

"Not just you, no," Minghao replies amusedly. "But I think you could be. A flower, I mean. You're just someone who's figuring out what kind you want to be."

The thought about being a flower𑁋in another life, perhaps𑁋is a bit silly. But you also wonder about other things too𑁋if you're being treated with the same care and attention that Minghao gives to his flowers, or if you're wilting like one that hasn't found the right light yet. And as you gaze around the shop, taking in the beauty of the blooms around you, you find yourself smiling.

"I think I'd like to try and take care of a flower," You announce, determination weaving around your voice and words. "I'm not sure if I'd be good at it, but I'd like to try."

Minghao crosses his arms together, letting out a thoughtful hum while studying you for a few seconds. "I think you'd do well."

For some reason, those few words were enough to send heat crawling up your body and into your face.

"Thank you," You breathe out sheepishly, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards. "Can you give me a few recommendations?"

Minghao just nods. "Sure."

From there, he leads you toward a small display near the front of the shop where a few different pots and seedlings are carefully arranged. He describes a few of them to you. You're immediately drawn to the passion dripping from his tone, and the way he appears to light up when he speaks.

"These might be a good start," he suggests, gesturing to a small seedling. "Marigolds are pretty low maintenance. They need light, of course, but they're easy to grow and care for."

You take a moment to study over the baby plant with sweet curiosity.

"I think I'll start with these, then," You say, glancing back at Minghao. "Something easy."

Minghao's eyes don't stray away from how you admire the tiny plant, how you cradle the pot in your hands to take a closer look at it as if you're already imagining yourself taking care of it.

"Taking care of them can be a good reminder to take care of yourself too," he points out. "They need patience, consistency… and a little bit of trust, just like people do."

You look up at him, a smile tugging at your lips once more, feeling something warm bloom in your chest. His words settle into you in a way that's hard to describe, but they feel right𑁋like they're exactly what you need to hear.

"That's true," You reply, the weight of the sentiment settling comfortably within you. "I guess I could use a reminder like that."

"Shall I wrap it up for you?" he offers.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

After mulling over some options, he chooses the perfect wrapping paper and adds a small note about caring for marigolds. You watch him, mesmerised by the ease in his movements, the care he pours into something so simple. For a moment, you forget about all the bustling noise outside the shop, and all that exists is Minghao and the flowers, his flowers.

As Minghao ties the final knot around the marigold pot, he hands it to you, and his fingertips briefly brush against yours.

"Thank you," You tell him softly. "For everything, really. It's very calming in here."

Minghao's smile widens, almost like he's heard those same words before, and perhaps he has; maybe many people find themselves drawn to his calm presence and the haven he's created in this little shop.

There's a strange warmth that spreads throughout your chest as you cradle the small plant in your hands. "I'll be sure to take good care of it."

A few moments of comfortable silence pass as you both stand there, your eyes drifting around the shop to take in the palette of autumn that colours the space. Yet it's almost instinctive in the way your gaze finds Minghao.

"I hope you won't mind me coming back, you know... to make sure I'm doing a good job with this little one." You gesture to the plant in your hands, a playful tone to your words.

Minghao chuckles, a sound as gentle as the petals surrounding him. "Of course. I'll be here."

"Do you mind if I take another look around with the place? It looks great, by the way."

"Take all the time you need."

And for the first time in a long while, Minghao felt like he wasn't just waiting for the next flower to bloom.

He was blooming, too.

"Do you have a favourite flower?"

The question rests upon Minghao's shoulders while he waters a cluster of orchids in the back corner of the shop. You're hovering near him, aimlessly trudging your fingertips over, but instead lets the question settle in between the quiet moments.

"I imagine it's hard to pick as a florist, right?" You let out a meek laugh. "It's kind of like asking a painter to pick their favourite colour."

The corners of Minghao's lips curl up slightly, his eyes fixed on the glistening leaves under the faint droplets of water. You can tell he's contemplating the question from the quiet hums leaving his mouth, and for some reason, you find comfort in his patience.

"Not exactly," he says after a pause, his voice steady, thoughtful. "A painter might have a favourite colour, but they don't use it all the time. It's about balance. Knowing when to bring it forward and when to hold it back."

"Ah, so you do have a favourite flower," You tease lightly, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. "You just don't want to admit it."

The brief touch seems to linger in the air, a soft warmth that you both let pass without acknowledging. Minghao gently sets the watering can down and looks at you for a moment, his gaze a little deeper than before.

"In China, we have a lot of flowers that hold meaning," Minghao continues. "It's hard to pick one specifically, but... I've been liking the liánhuā lately𑁋the lotus. It grows in muddy water and blooms above the surface, even despite those circumstances. It also represents purity, resilience, and growth."

You tilt your head as you take in his words. You already knew yourself that you didn't know much about flowers, but there's a certain curiosity that washes over you from how Minghao speaks so fondly about them. Even something as simple as a flower has layers of meaning for him.

"That's really beautiful, I..." You trail off, trying to find the right words. "I've always looked at things really surface-level, you know, like I've always found daisies beautiful because they're so simple and bright, but I never really thought much about their deeper meanings. It's kind of like... I never thought about why I liked them. It's just easy to see them and appreciate them, I guess."

Minghao blinks at you, before lowering his gaze down to the floor. "Daisies suit you."

You turn to him, dazed. "Really?"

Minghao takes a contemplative pause. "Well, they're not only... beautiful to look at, but they brighten up any space they're in."

You feel your feet seep into the floor, sinking deeper as your cheeks warm, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were standing next to him. And it's the way he acts like he didn't fucking say anything out of the ordinary almost makes you lose it.

"Are you flirting with me right now?"

However, Minghao doesn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and then a few seconds later, your phone rings.

Minghao just offers you a little wave of his soil-painted hand. "Have fun at work, Y/N."

"Minghao! Can you teach me how to wrap these flowers?"

Minghao casts his attention up from displaying a new set of hyacinths, catching you behind the counter with a bouquet in your hands, along with a small old lady on the other side with a cheerful grin.

There's a subtle tug at the corners of his mouth when he hears you holler for him again, and he brushes his hands against his apron, before marching his way toward you. He steps up to you, taking the flowers from your hand while you beam happily towards the old lady.

"What's the occasion for the flowers, ma'am?" You ask curiously. Th elderly woman lets out a soft laugh, resting her wrinkled hands on the counter.

"It's for my grandson! He's graduating from high school today. Time flies by, doesn't it?"

"Wow, that's such a milestone! Congratulations to him," You exclaim enthusiastically, softly clapping your hands together as Minghao deftly arranges the flowers within the wrapping paper, before sliding it over to you.

He leans in a bit more, almost too close you feel the way his arm brushes against yours and the way his breath fans against your skin.

"Fold the edges like this," Minghao instructs softly, his hands hovering right over yours. "Make sure the paper covers the stems. Too much pressure could break them; too loose could make them fall apart."

You watch as his hands follow yours while you nervously, yet carefully trace the frail edge of the paper, showing you how to make each fold with a care that's almost tender. His close proximity sends strange flutters to your stomach, but you do your best to ignore it.

"Okay, like this?" You question, pulling the paper slightly tighter around the bouquet.

Minghao hums approvingly, letting you hold the flowers while he circles a ribbon around it with ease. His hands brush against yours as he neatly ties it, and the two of you pull back to watch how it delicately falls over the bouquet.

The old lady glances between the two of you with a knowing smile.

"The two of you make such a cute couple! Do you run the shop together?"

You feel your face fire up at that, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Then you instinctively glance over at Minghao, who surprisingly doesn't seem as flustered as you are.

"Oh, um, we're not𑁋"

"They like to help out here once in a while," Minghao adds in smoothly, though you aren't sure if that entirely helps or not. However you know what he's saying is true, because whenever your break for work comes or on your free time, you find yourself naturally walking towards the flower shop to help out at times.

The lady just beams up even more, scooping up the bouquet in her grasp. "Well, it's nice to see young faces working together! You two sure do have a lot of chemistry."

You offer a wave of your hand. "I hope your grandson enjoys the flowers. Congratulations to him once again!"

With that, the old woman offers a small wink before turning to head out of the shop. "Thank you, dear! Take care, both of you." Her delighted steps echo off the walls as she exits the shop.

The shop grows quiet again. You let out a sigh, cracking your knuckles as you turn to Minghao, who was already wiping over the surface of the counter, making quick work of putting things back in order, and for some reason, it still doesn't wipe away the pit of awkwardness you're feeling. You wonder if he feels the same too.

"So," Minghao starts, still continuing to clean without batting a glance at you. "You're taking over my shop, it seems."

You let out a haughty scoff. "I just wanted to try wrapping some flowers for someone. Don't let it get to your head."

Minghao only chuckles lightly, though he keeps his focus on the counter, yet you could only focus on him. You can't help but admire the way his hair falls effortlessly over his forehead, the slight endearing tilt of his head as he works, and how his movements are so meticulously unique to only him. There's a certain aura he exudes that makes you feel strangely at peace, a magic that only seems to reside within the walls of the shop.

"Why didn't you say no?" You suddenly ask, the question slipping out before you could shut your mouth.

Minghao pauses mid-swipe, looking back up at you. "Say no to what?"

"To, uh... the lady back there," You stammer, feeling the heat creep back at your neck. "About us, you know... being a couple."

Minghao remains silent as he tosses the dirty wipe away. For a moment, he seems to be contemplating something𑁋whether the question, the idea, or something more.

Then he just simply shrugs. "I guess I didn't mind it," he replies lowly, and meets your eyes warily. "Does it bother you?"

Your mind goes completely blank at his question. Does it bother you? The simple truth is that you didn't expect him to answer so casually. You were expecting him to probably correct her humbly, in all honesty. After all, it was just a passing comment from a lady who didn't mean any harm behind it.

But... does it bother you?

"No, it... it doesn't bother me. Really," You respond after a pause, voice coming out a bit forced. Your heart is beating super fast right now. "I guess I just didn't expect you to go along with it since we're not𑁋"

"𑁋not a couple," Minghao finishes for you. "I know."

You feel like you're melting into a pile of goo, your thoughts scattering like ants running out of their pile.

"I'm sorry, I'm overthinking," You mumble out, trying to brush everything off with an airy laugh.

Minghao shakes his head. "I should be sorry. I made you uncomfortable."

"You-You didn't, trust me!" You wave your hands dismissively, albeit a bit dramatic. "I was just caught off-guard and didn't know how to respond."

This seems to relax Minghao's shoulders a bit, but not entirely.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is as light as a  wisp getting caught in the wind. "But you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, right?"

You give him an easy nod, maybe even confident. "I would. I promise. And you'd... tell me too?"

Minghao meets your eyes with a steady gaze, his expression soft but thoughtful. For a moment, there's a subtle shift in the air, and you can feel the weight of his words before he speaks again.

"Yeah," he answers firmly, sincerely. "I would."

When you open your mouth to speak again, your phone dings in your pocket. You squint your eyes to read over the message in your notifications, before closing up your phone.

"My meeting got cancelled." Then you blink up towards Minghao, as if trying to convey an unspoken question to him.

As if the answer wasn't already obvious, Minghao gives you a small, almost teasing smile.

"I don't mind the company," he tells you, then quirks up a brow. "Unless you do."

"I don't mind either," I like being in this place... with you. "Not at all."

Flowers bloom when the time is right. And you don't mind waiting for it.

When a flower dies, there's a certain routine that comes after it. Trim away the wilted petals, dispose of the stems, recycle them as compost, and plant the next set of blooms.

Minghao hates seeing flowers die.

The sound of crumbling petals tie a knot in his chest, the stillness that follows afterwards is almost deafening. But he knows it's an inevitable part of life. Every flower has its chance to bloom and thrive, and eventually, it will fade.

The flowers don't belong to him, after all𑁋they are simply passing through his care briefly before going to someone else or withering away, like everything else in life. Minghao knows it's unnecessary to hold onto these flowers so tightly, but after being surrounded by them his entire life, it's merely impossible to let go.

The bell chimes as he's composting a few camellias that had sadly wilted, and he gazes up to find a gust of snow following your footsteps as you step inside. A large, black fluffy coat hugs your body and a scarf is wrapped snugly around your neck. However this time, Minghao doesn't notice any ounce of a smile to your face.

He sets the compost bin down and wipes his hands on his apron.

"Y/N?"

There's a very subtle twitch to your expression when he calls out your name.

"Hey," You croak out, voice a bit strained. "Um... is it fine if I buy some flowers?"

Minghao feels something in his chest clench at your tone, but he pushes the feeling away with his usual calm composure, masking away any concern simmering on the surface.

"Sure," he replies, focusing on the shadows that plague over your features. "Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

Your eyes drift away from to look around the flower shop, taking note of the bright, usual blooms that surround you, yet none of them appear are what you're looking for.

"Do you have, um..." You feel like you're already going to regret this. "...anything for a funeral?"

The words float in the air between you both. Minghao's expression falters for just a moment, the calmness that he usually carries slipping as his eyes soften toward you.

"Of course," he says softly. "I have a few options."

With that, he leads you to a particular spot in the shop, where it houses all sorts of flowers with muted colours𑁋white roses and lilies, pale chrysanthemums, and pink and purple orchids all arranged neatly. Minghao watches as you gaze over each flower, but he doesn't speak yet, simply allowing you the moment to breathe.

"These are the traditional flowers for a funeral," he explains finally. "White roses for remembrance, lilies for peace, chrysanthemums for mourning, and orchids for everlasting love."

Minghao has picked flowers for funerals before. He's also seen people hold onto flowers that are long past their bloom, clinging to them as if their presence alone could bring someone back. He's been there too.

It's bit a different when it's you though, and he doesn't exactly know how to explain it.

You plod slowly throughout the display, picking up a stem here and there, but each time, you set it back down as if it didn't feel right. But when you come across the orchids, you linger a little longer on them, tenderly caressing the petals as if you were scared to break them.

"I think I'll choose these ones. The orchids," You murmur, picking up a few stems and showing it to him.

Minghao just nods, taking the ones from your hands and grabbing a few more to finish the rest of the bouquet, moving with careful precision.

"I'll handle the rest, don't worry," he assures you as he gracefully works to arrange the orchids.

None of you choose to say anything more, only letting the diffident silence stretch. For some reason, the shop feels a little more cooler, the air heavier than usual. The only sound is the rustling of Minghao's hands moving carefully over the flowers, the quiet snap of a stem as he trims it with his shears. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

Minghao doesn't press for any details, yet even in the quiet, you have a feeling that he knows. Maybe that's why he's just letting his hands speak for him.

"Here you go." He offers you a neat bouquet of pale lavender orchids.

You step up to him to retrieve it from his grasp, bringing it close to your chest. "Thank you."

Minghao knows he shouldn't let his feelings get in the way, but as he takes note of the slight glassiness to your eyes and small tremble of your hands holding the bouquet, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it in. He feels guilty when he lets his eyes drift down to your lips for a second, before averting it back up quickly.

The smile you give him is nothing short of fragile, faint, but it's there. And then, with a sudden leap, you find yourself leaning into Minghao's embrace without thinking, wrapping your arms around his body as if he was the only thing in the world that was preventing you from falling down. And in a way, he is.

His arms catch you instinctively, gentle yet steady, embracing around you like flowers petals folding inward for protection. His warmth seeps into you as if he were the sun reaching a flower in the early hours of dawn, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, encouraging you to press closer into his warmth.

You don't cry𑁋not entirely. A single tear slips past your lashes, landing silently against his shoulder. He feels it, but he doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and just lets you... be.

"I'm sorry," You mumble into his shoulder. "I didn't mean to𑁋"

"Don't be," Minghao interrupts softly. "It's okay."

You pull away for a moment to look up at him. He's still holding you. His hands have fallen down to your sides, resting there as if he's held you like this before. The way you're looking at him has Minghao nearly forgetting how to breathe; it nearly urges to him to lean down and close the distance between the two of you.

His gaze lingers on your lips, and for a split second, Minghao almost allows himself to follow the instinct to lean in.

But then he stops himself.

He's not sure what this is, what the right thing to do is. His thoughts are tangled mess of roots𑁋he's always been careful with holding himself back, with promising to wait, yet something about the way you look at him makes it feel like the only right thing to do is to give in.

But he can't. Not yet. Not when you're so fragile and baring yourself raw to him.

Yet he sees the way your eyes flutter at him, the way a crease of question forms in between your brows as if you're also unsure of what this moment is, but there's a longing there too. It's almost pleading. And you lean in a little more towards him.

"Y/N," he breathes out your name, and it's the first time you ever heard his voice shake like that. "We... We shouldn't."

You don't say anything at first, your eyes searching his face like you're trying to read something. You open your mouth, close it, and then, with a slight exhale, you step back, only a little, but enough to let the cool air seep in between you.

"I'm sorry, I..." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, letting out a sniffle. "Fuck, I'm sorry..."

Minghao feels his chest tighten. "It's okay𑁋"

"I-I just wanted to feel something for a moment, you know? Everything is such a mess right now and the first person I thought of was you, because I like... the way you make me feel. I like it way more than I should. And that... that it's okay if you don't feel that way too."

Minghao's heart stutters at that, and perhaps the world even pauses too. All words that want to leave him become stuck in his throat, because he knows deep down𑁋from as far back as the moment you walked into the flower shop𑁋that he's felt the same way for far too long.

So, he settles with taking one hand from your side and slowly reaching up to trace your warm cheek with his thumb, his touch delicate as if he's afraid he might cause your petals to fall down. He brushes away a lingering tear that had been drying up on your skin and lets his hand stay there.

"You... deserve way more than just comfort in a moment like this," Minghao starts quietly. "But you're grieving right now, and I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want to just be someone who's here for a moment, because... you mean so much to me more than that."

Your lips form into a tight, thin line, and you flicker your gaze towards the floor, the heaviness in the air still weighing down on your shoulders.

"Minghao..."

"And if I act on what I feel, it wouldn't be fair to you," Minghao continues, voice trembling slightly as he speaks. "I want it to be because you know what you want. And if you ever give me that chance, I promise I'll be here for you. Not just now, not just in this moment, but... for everything. When you're ready; when you're healed; when it feels right, I'll be here𑁋I always have been."

There's a lump in your throat that you swallow down. For a while, you could only simply stand there, feeling as if you're teetering on the edge of something you can't quite reach. But even as you stand in this stillness, there's something in his words that echoes off the walls of your mind𑁋it's understanding, and it's care, and it feels like a promise.

"I... I know. I just... I'm sorry for putting all this on you. I think I need space to... heal and think." Then you look back up at him, wonder tainting your features. "Will you wait for me?"

The question feels a bit silly to ask, and it makes Minghao's features soften as he looks at you, a warmth in his chest that spreads like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a cold morning.

"I've already been waiting for you," he says, almost cheekily, and it seems to lighten the moment a little. "I haven't planned on stopping anytime soon."

The chuckle that leaves you isn't forced; in fact, it's quite relieving. It feels like the start of something, and Minghao feels a flicker of hope at the sound.

You reluctantly separate yourself away from him, cradling the bouquet of orchids to your chest, and let out an exhale you hardly realise you were holding in.

"I'll be okay, you know," You tell him, even if it's a bit of lie, or half the truth. You can't tell which.

Minghao glances down to your hands, as if you're holding a piece of your heart wrapped up within the petals, before back up to your eyes.

"I know," is all he says.

The world doesn't stop for grief, but it's okay to pause for a little while.

Minghao wonders if flowers ever feel the same bittersweet pull when their petals fall𑁋the ache of letting go, but the quiet hope of something new taking root.

You haven't stepped foot in the flower shop in a while. At least, not as often as you used to come.

The absence is especially daunting, and Minghao can't help but feel it every time the bell chimes and it isn't you that walks through the door. On rare occasion you'd swing by to say hello during your breaks at work and sometimes, a pretty, shy smile from you before you disappear back into the world outside.

It's strange how easily your presence had come to be a part of the rhythm of his days. He used to wonder how someone like you would be drawn to the boring stillness of a flower shop. But now the place feels more emptier than before you came into his life, the petals around him somehow less vibrant, the air colder, even when the sun streams through the windows.

He tries not to dwell on it, but he can't help the nagging feeling that maybe you've drifted away, maybe things have changed. Maybe he was just a moment for you. And now, that moment has passed.

So he simply spends his days in the shop, moving between shelves of blossoms and arranging bouquets, but his thoughts always return to you. To the quiet moments when your voice would fill the space between the flowers, to the way you cared and tended the blooms even when you had no reason to.

It makes him think that if flowers could speak for us, then what might they say about you? Would they say you were someone who saw beauty in the smallest things? Minghao often found himself wishing that flowers could speak just so he can hear what they would say about you.

But flowers don't speak, of course. They just bloom and stretch toward the light, growing in places where they are tended to, and even in those that have been forgotten.

Maybe that's what Minghao was𑁋a forgotten flower of his own waiting to be seen, to be noticed.

Luckily, he was able to distract himself a bit today with a few deliveries for a couple of upcoming weddings and a new arrangement for the store he was preparing to do in the next few days, along with piles of orders for days. But it still wasn't enough.

As he flips the sign on the window to display Closed, he fumbles for his keys to lock the door. However, the sound of the bell rings through the shop, stopping him mid-motion. Minghao lifts a brow up, not expecting for anyone to show up right as he's about to close up.

And when he looks up, he freezes.

"I'm not late, aren't I?"

It's you.

The way your voice comes out all shaky like you're out of breath, yet soft has Minghao feeling as if he's sinking into quicksand. The sight of you standing at the doorway is a dream he never dares to wake up from.

"You're not," Minghao manages to say, somehow. "You're just in time."

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click.

Your lips tug into a small, relieved smile, and it's enough to make the air feel lighter in the shop. You take a few hesitant steps so that you're fully inside, letting the door shut behind you with a faint click. You take in the familiar, fresh scent of all the blooms and greenery around you, and it hits you in the heart just how much you've missed this place.

"I had, uh… a late shift at work," You explain unsurely. "so I thought about stopping by, but I wasn't sure if you'd still be here."

Minghao just shakes his head, watching as you brush your fingertips over some lilies and baby's breaths that were displayed on a small table near the window. Gosh, he'd do anything to flat out say how much he missed you, how much he'd been thinking about you, but he doesn't.

"Have you been busy?" You ask him.

"A little," he responds. "but manageable, I would say."

"Ah… that's good," You mumble, voice trailing off as you start to make your way in his direction, catching eye on a particular bouquet sitting on the counter behind him. "No-show again?"

Minghao lets out a sigh, and he feels you following behind as he walks towards the counter. He picks up the bouquet in his hand, letting his gaze fall over it.

"Mhm," he hums. "But it's alright, really. Happens more often than you think."

You quirk a brow as your eyes roam over the bouquet, and a particular, almost knowing look stretches across your lips.

"That's funny," You huff, taking the bouquet from his grasp. It held a colourful variety of hydrangeas. "It looks a lot like an order I placed a few days ago."

Minghao's heart skips a beat as he watches you carefully examine the bouquet, his breath caught in his throat.

"This… was yours?" he questions in surprise.

"Yeah, I…" You bite your lips sheepishly. "It was sort of an impulsive thing, I guess."

Minghao only continues to watch as you admire the bouquet, caressing over the delicate wrapping paper and the all-too familiar bow that he would tie all of his other arrangements.

"Impulsive, huh?" Minghao teases lightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Well, you certainly picked a good one."

You look up at him, a small, tentative smile forming on your face. "I guess I just wanted to get something special. For someone."

Minghao feels his heart sink at that, a flutter of hope and uncertainty colliding in his chest. Someone.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, unsure if it's his place to ask, or if he even wants to hear the answer.

"I see," he says instead, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though there's a hint of sadness to his voice that he silently hopes you don't notice.

You take note of his unreadable expression, over the way his eyes appear downcast and a subtle tension to his posture.

However, this doesn't make you stop from gripping the bouquet tighter in your grasp, and then in the next moment, you're stepping closer and offering it over to him.

"I hope you like them," You state, holding out the bouquet thing as if was the most natural thing in the world.

Minghao glances at the bouquet quizzically, the same one he had just been holding, then back at you. His face shifts between a million different expressions𑁋confusion, surprise, hope, and everything in between𑁋before the tension in his chest eases just slightly as he finally registers what you're doing.

He's a florist, for crying out loud. He's usually the one to be giving flowers to people. Never in his years of practically living in the shop has anyone offered flowers to him. The gesture is practically foreign, yet in this moment, it feels so right.

His fingers graze against yours as he hesitantly takes it from your hands, but you fully let go. Instead, you cover his hand with yours, warmth spreading between you as you gently press your palm against his. His heart is beating in his throat, in his ears, everywhere in his body, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

"I missed you," You declare softly, yet a pinch of urgency behind your words. "I missed you so fucking much."

His chest tightens, and it's as if the weight of everything crushes him in the best possible way. All the time he had spent wondering if you had forgotten about him, if maybe you had moved on, it all melts away in an instant. Because you're here. And you're saying everything he's been craving to hear.

And gosh, does he want to kiss you right now.

This time, Minghao doesn't waste a second. He brings a hand up to cradle the side of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. It's perhaps a bit desperate first, making him swallow down a faint sigh you let out but it quickly settles into something softer, deeper, like two people who've been waiting for this moment for far too long.

He can feel the slight tremble in your breath as your lips move against his, and he pulls back slightly, just to make sure you were still with him.

Minghao lets his thumb lightly caress over your cheek as if trying to memorise the feeling of your skin under his touch, as if he'd been starved for this closeness.

"I missed you too," he whispers, a breath away from your lips. "The flowers did too."

A light, airy chuckle escapes from you. "Oh, did they?"

"Of course," Minghao murmurs, his lips curling upwards against your skin. "They've been waiting for you to come back."

"Well, I better not keep them waiting anymore then, right?" You jest playfully, leaning in back once again.

Minghao doesn't hesitate to meet you halfway. "Nope," he says firmly against your mouth. "I think they've waited long enough."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @eternalgyu

@lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @ryuwonieebae @wonwooz1

@planetkiimchi @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23

@phenomenalgirl9 @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit

@bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @starshuas

@totomoshi @armycarat2612 @etherealyoungk @gigification @ahuiahoe

@svtficsarchive @lllucere @flipflopscrop

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - A King, Kneeling

Summary - Atop the Iron Throne, the King and Queen surrender to their desires, intertwining passion with the weight of power. As their reckless love ignites in public, the boundaries of duty and devotion blur, revealing the tantalizing thrill of both conquest and intimacy.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

Word count - 2731

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The king adored his queen.

It wasn't just whispered gossip or idle courtly chatter—it was a truth so palpable that even those who lived on intrigue couldn't ignore it. But they did try. 

They preferred to pretend, to look away from the rare sight that defied their expectations. After all, kings weren't supposed to love their queens with the kind of devotion Aegon had for me.

But he did. Oh, how he did. Fiercely. Brazenly.

"Aegon," I warned, trying to sound firm, but my voice quivered under the weight of his attention. His arm stretched out, beckoning me closer with an unspoken command, the kind only a king could give. 

I hesitated, my eyes narrowing in suspicion, but the slow curl of a smirk tugging at his lips was enough to break my resistance.

"What are you up to?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and caution in my voice, as I took a step toward him.

"Come here," he murmured again, his tone low and dripping with mischief.

I barely had time to blink before he seized me, pulling me onto his lap with an effortless motion. 

His hands were on me instantly, seeking the familiar warmth of my skin as if they had every right to it—because in his mind, they did.

"Aegon!" I scolded, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed the effect his touch had on me. I glanced around the grand hall, the Iron Throne looming under us. 

The Kingsguard were at their posts, their eyes dutifully trained on the stone walls, but I knew better. They weren't blind, though they pretended to be. 

How could they not see their king lavishing such affection on his queen in the open like this?

His fingers trailed down my spine, his grin growing as he felt me shiver under his touch.

"What?" he asked, voice dripping with false innocence as though he had no idea what he was doing.

I turned to face him fully, a sharp retort on my lips, but his gaze—smouldering and full of playful hunger—caught me off, guard. 

"Don't play coy with me, Aegon," I muttered, though the breathless hitch in my voice betrayed my intent.

"I missed my wife," he said, so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though his absence was unbearable even when we were in the same room.

I rolled my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You can miss her in our chambers, Aegon. Privately. You're sitting on the Iron Throne, for the gods' sake."

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, before leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "I want to miss her right here." 

His breath sent a ripple of heat through me, and before I could protest, he shifted, positioning me so that I was now sitting atop the throne, while he knelt before me—a king, kneeling.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Aegon, stop!" I hissed, but my words fell soft as his hands crept higher, tangling in the folds of my skirts. 

The sensation of the metal throne behind me, cold and rigid, contrasted with the warmth of his touch, driving me mad.

"Why would I stop?" he teased, his voice full of wicked amusement, eyes dark with intent. 

He tugged my skirts higher, his fingers inching dangerously close to places they shouldn't be, not here. Not now.

I shot a panicked glance toward the room, my heart racing. The guards stood within view, pretending to be statues, but I could feel their presence like a heavy weight. 

"Aegon, not in front of them," I whispered, my voice trembling, urgent.

He paused, his fingers stilling just enough for his eyes to meet mine, mock surprise written across his face as though he'd just now remembered they existed.

Then, with a sudden change, he stood, his voice rising, all command, all king. "Everyone. Out."

The guards exchanged nervous glances, armour clinking as they hesitated, unsure if they had heard him correctly. 

Aegon's gaze sharpened, his voice carrying the authority of a ruler unchallenged. "Now!"

They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing in the vast hall as they shuffled out, casting anxious looks over their shoulders.

The room was empty now—silent, save for the distant echo of armour clanking as the last of the Kingsguard left. 

My heart hammered in my chest, every beat echoing in the sudden stillness. The heavy door closed with a resounding thud, sealing us in the throne room. 

Just Aegon, me, and the Iron Throne.

Aegon turned back to me, his devilish grin wider than before, his eyes full of sinful promise. 

"Now," Aegon breathed, his voice dipping into a dark, husky tone that sent shivers down my spine. His eyes gleamed with that wickedness I knew all too well, and yet, each time, it caught me off guard. 

"It's just you, me, and the throne," he whispered, his hands roaming, fingers trailing slowly, deliberately, up my thighs beneath the fabric of my skirts.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice wavering between warning and longing. 

My back pressed harder into the cold, jagged metal of the throne, a sharp reminder of where we were—what this symbolized. I tried to stay grounded, to keep my senses, but his hands... gods, his hands had a way of making me forget.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, just a ghost of a touch, but enough to make my breath catch. 

He looked up at me from beneath those dark lashes, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he slowly knelt before me once more.

A king, kneeling.

I tried to push him back, hands on his shoulders, but the moment I made contact with his skin, the heat between us flared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me forward with a gentle insistence, and I melted into the sensation, the fight leaving me in a sigh.

"Stop it," I whispered, though it came out more like a plea than a command. "Not here, Aegon, we can't—"

But before I could finish, his lips were against me, his mouth tracing a line of fire over my skin. 

My protests died on my tongue, replaced by a sharp gasp. His hands were firm but tender, spreading my legs as he settled between them, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of my thighs, holding me open for him as though the throne itself were a bed built for this very moment.

"You deserve to be worshipped," he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through me. "And I intend to do just that."

The cool bite of the Iron Throne's metal was a contrast to the heat building inside me, the jagged edges digging into my back, but I barely noticed. 

All I could feel was him—his mouth, his tongue, the deliberate, tantalizing way he took his time as if savouring every taste, every sound he drew from me.

"Aegon..." I moaned, his name slipping past my lips, a breathless prayer. 

My hands gripped the throne, knuckles white as I tried to anchor myself to something, anything, but he was relentless. 

His tongue swirled, teasing, flicking against me in just the right way, and my body responded helplessly to his touch, every nerve alight with pleasure.

The throne room, the court, the world—all of it faded away. There was only Aegon, his mouth working its magic, his hands guiding me toward the edge. 

His every move was deliberate, calculated—he knew me too well, knew exactly how to drive me to madness.

"Do you know how beautiful you look?" he whispered against me, his breath hot, making my skin tingle. "Up here, on the Iron Throne, all mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through me, the weight of them mingling with the sensation of his tongue. 

I squirmed, trying to muffle the sounds escaping me, but he growled in response, the vibration reverberating through my body.

"Don't hide from me," he commanded, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with me, his lips glistening with the evidence of my desire. "I want to hear you."

I swallowed hard, trembling under the intensity of his gaze. 

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back to me, needing him to continue, to finish what he started. He obliged, his tongue diving deeper, stroking me with a renewed fervour that sent waves of heat crashing through me.

The room spun, and I bit my lip hard, trying to keep control, but he wasn't having it. 

Aegon's hands gripped me tighter, pulling me closer to his mouth as he pushed me closer to the brink, his tongue working me with an almost agonizing skill.

And then, just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he pressed his lips to the most sensitive part of me and sucked.

The world shattered. Pleasure tore through me, violent and uncontrollable, and I cried out, my hands clutching at him, nails digging into his shoulders as I tumbled over the edge. 

Aegon didn't let up, drawing out every last tremor until I was left breathless, limp, slumped against the throne, the cold metal biting into my skin in sharp contrast to the molten heat still pulsing through my body.

He rose slowly, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk as he loomed over me, his eyes dark with triumph. "Still want to send me to our chambers?" he teased, voice thick with amusement.

I could barely find my voice, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of his attention. "You're impossible," I whispered, my heart racing, my body both sated and longing for more.

His grin widened, predatory. "Only for you, my queen."

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, but Aegon—he was far from finished.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark with hunger, satisfaction gleaming in them like firelight. His mouth, still glistening from the sinful worship he'd lavished on me, curved into a wicked grin. 

The power in that gaze sent another jolt of heat coursing through me, even as my body ached from the intensity of what he'd already done.

"Impossible," I muttered again, my voice weak but defiant. A flicker of a smile tugged at my lips, even though my body was still recovering from the waves of pleasure he'd brought me.

Aegon leaned in close, one hand gripping the arm of the throne beside my head, the other trailing down my body, claiming me like I was his throne—his alone to possess. 

"I haven't even begun, my queen," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, and this kiss—gods, this kiss—wasn't sweet or soft. It was urgent, devouring. 

He kissed me like a man starved like he was tasting his favorite sin and couldn't get enough. 

I could taste myself on him, and it only fueled the fire burning between us.

I groaned against his mouth, my hands instinctively gripping the folds of his tunic, pulling him closer. His body pressed into mine, his hard length straining against the fabric of his breeches, leaving no doubt about what he wanted next.

"Aegon," I gasped as he broke the kiss, his lips moving to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

My hands roamed his back, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him—all of him.

His mouth worked lower, biting, sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, making me shiver. 

"You're my queen," he murmured, the words a low growl against my neck, "and I intend to make sure you feel it."

Without warning, he pulled me up with him, his hands tugging at my skirts, yanking them up over my hips, exposing me fully. 

The cold air of the throne room hit my bare skin, making me gasp, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. 

He pulled me to him, and I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me through his clothes, a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

I barely had time to react before his hands were at his waist, unfastening his belt, his movements swift and practised. 

In one smooth motion, he freed himself, and my breath hitched at the sight of him—ready, eager, and gloriously bare in the soft light of the throne room.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation, my body already aching for him.

He met my gaze, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of love and raw lust. 

"I want to take you right here," he said, his voice low, a dangerous promise laced within it. "I want to fuck you on the Iron Throne, where you belong."

My breath caught in my throat, the thrill of his words sending a rush of heat through me. 

The audacity of it—the sheer madness of what we were about to do—made my pulse race, and yet, I couldn't stop the surge of desire that overtook me.

I glanced at the throne beneath me, the cold metal, the jagged edges. 

It was a symbol of power, a symbol of rule, but tonight... tonight, it was going to be the stage for something far more primal.

Without waiting for my answer, Aegon lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my thighs as he positioned me over him. 

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, teasing, taunting.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice husky, commanding, and when my eyes met his, the raw desire in them nearly undid me. 

"I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne."

Before I could respond, he thrust into me, filling me in one deep, powerful stroke. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as my back arched, pressing me harder into the cold spikes of the Iron Throne behind me. 

The contrast of the cold metal against my heated skin only intensified the sensation, and I let out a low moan as he began to move.

Aegon's hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he set a relentless pace, each thrust driving me harder against the throne. 

The room spun around me, the world narrowing to just the two of us—his cock buried deep inside me, his breath hot against my neck, his grunts of pleasure mixing with my own ragged moans.

I tried to find my voice, to say something—anything—but all I could do was cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he drove me closer to the edge. 

"Aegon... gods..." I whimpered, my head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"That's it," he growled, his grip on me tightening as he pounded into me harder, faster. "Take it. Take all of me."

The throne pressed into my back, the jagged edges digging into my skin, but I barely noticed the pain—it only heightened the intensity of what was happening, grounding me in the reality of it all. 

We were fucking on the Iron Throne, claiming each other in the most reckless, forbidden way imaginable, and gods, it felt incredible.

I could feel myself unravelling, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. My body tightened around him, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he felt it too.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice raw, desperate. "Cum for your king."

His words sent me spiralling over the edge. I cried out, my body shuddering around him as I came, the pleasure crashing through me in violent waves. 

Aegon followed me into oblivion, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilt into me with a low, guttural moan, his forehead resting against mine as we rode out the aftershocks together.

For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies intertwined, breath mingling in the heavy air of the throne room. The world was silent around us, save for the sound of our laboured breathing.

Finally, Aegon pulled back, his eyes still dark with satisfaction as he gazed down at me. His lips curved into a lazy, contented grin, and he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with certainty. "Here, on the throne, in our chambers—everywhere. You're mine."

I smiled, my body still trembling, my heart full of both love and lust. "And you," I murmured, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, "are mine."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, before kissing me again—this time slow, sweet, a promise of everything yet to come. "Always."

A/n - 'I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne'... anyways one wrong move and you're speared xx

[yonpote]

thinking abt that thing i said in my phil gafs post like, phil trusting dan with the understanding that if one came out it would have to be together and allowing dan to be the one to tell that part of their story with care. i mean that entire section in BIG is about dan's trust in phil. TRUST is such a huge part of dnp's relationship bc there were so many times where literally, they had no one else to turn to. it was phil's video that was leaked. it was phil pouring his heart out that was shared. they couldn't even trust a website's privating system to work reliably. it's no wonder they're so attached at the hip, if they weren't, who could have protected them?

i think about phil's side of no homo era a lot. he wasn't nearly as vocally no homo as dan, but if they were together in a younow he'd obviously also deny his queerness, in order to protect dan but also his own privacy. like i said, it was HIS video that was leaked. in the context of what we know about phil's sorta hidden breakdown during the hiatus and also much louder breakdown while dan was away on tour, it makes me think like. it must have been so painful right? being the polite yet palpably upset messenger in the dm's of people who violated his privacy. quietly taking down any copy he could find. and then having to rely on youtube's automated system which was technically a part of the system that violated his trust in the first place, even if it was just a glitch. and like dan was furious and you could visibly see the insecurities contort within him during all this and he would (understandably) lash out, but phil didn't play the good cop because he wasn't as affected, it was to protect themselves. it's just that if he didn't, i feel like dan would have watched the whole world burn and phil would have been right next to him. dan would have poured the gasoline but phil would have paid for it.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

P.S. Do You Still Love Me Pt2

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Pt1

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

Body Paragraph: I made a mistake.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

No matter how much time passed from you and Jisung's breakup, you weren't able to shake the immense amount of affection and love you still had for him. Maybe it was because three months was barely enough time to even begin considering moving on, or maybe it was because you knew deep down that you might never fully move on. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from watching his lives, his promotions, his every appearance. Each time, it was impossible to ignore just how sad he looked.

The way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore- how his usual spark seemed dimmer. Even the fans noticed. The comments under his videos were filled with concern: "Jisung, are you okay? You've lost weight…" and "Stay strong, Han, we’re here for you!" It made your heart ache. You knew that expression on his face, the one that tried so hard to look okay but didn’t quite make it. You could see through the mask, and it only made you miss him more.

With a heavy sigh, you sank back into the cushions of your sofa, staring at your phone's screen when a notification popped up, making you jolt.

Kyungsoo. A colleague and friend.

You swallowed hard, feeling the guilt settle like a heavy weight in your chest as you opened the message. After your breakup you had gone out with him to a few dinners- and those were not considered dates at all by you considering they were company events. But even so you felt weird hanging out with another man; and although your friendship was extremley strong- the year you spent with Jisung you decided not to focus on it as much to show respect to Jisung. And now that you were "free" as Kyungsoo put it, things felt different and the thought unsettled you.

Kyungsoo: Y/N, you need to go out tonight. Meet me at 7.

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate his efforts; you just weren’t sure you had the energy to plaster on a smile and pretend that everything was okay. But your hubae was persistent, and you knew he wouldn’t take "no" for an answer.

You: I don't know if I'm up for it.

His reply was almost immediate.

Kyungsoo: You need this, trust me. I’ll be there with you the whole time. Please, just come.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe he was right. Maybe a distraction was exactly what you needed to stop yourself from spiraling even deeper.

You: Okay. See you at 7.

Setting your phone aside, you let out a long breath, your heart still heavy. You had to do this. For yourself. Maybe even for Jisung- because if he was moving on, then maybe, just maybe, you needed to try too.

It wasn’t about forgetting him. It was about surviving without him.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, feeling that familiar pang of uncertainty creep up. The same old doubts returned, and for a moment, you almost wanted to cancel. But Kyungsoo’s message echoed in your mind: “You need this.”

You shook your head, brushing off the weight of it. You could do this. It wasn’t about moving on completely but about taking small steps forward.

At exactly 6:57 PM, your doorbell rang.

You grabbed your jacket quickly, heading towards the door. When you opened it, Kyungsoo was standing there, holding a small bag of snacks in his hand, his usual smile soft but genuine.

"You ready?" he asked, his voice full of concern but laced with warmth. He placed the snacks on your table by the door and gestured to them, just to make sure you knew they were for you for later.

You gave a small nod, trying to hide the unease that still lingered in your chest. "Yeah, let's go."

He didn't waste any time, leading you down the hallway, his presence a calming force that eased the tension you hadn't even realized was building. The walk to the car was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence. Kyungsoo didn’t push you to talk, and somehow, that made it easier to breathe.

As you settled into the passenger seat of his car, he shot you a glance before pulling away from the curb. "I know this isn't easy for you, but I want you to remember that you don’t have to be okay right now. Just take it one step at a time, alright?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a flicker of relief wash over you at his words. He had always been the kind of friend who didn’t force anything on you, but when he spoke, it felt like he always knew exactly what you needed to hear. The car ride passed quickly, filled with light chatter that made the time slip by unnoticed. Kyungsoo was good at distracting you.

When you arrived at the cafe, it wasn’t as crowded as usual, just a few people scattered here and there. He parked and turned to face you. "Let's grab some coffee. Everything on me tonight."

As you stepped out of the car, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the background music. You weren’t sure what all Kyungsoo had planned, but the quiet vibe of the place felt comforting- almost like a shield against the memories of Jisung that lingered in the back of your mind.

He led you inside, ordering your usual without asking, and you couldn't help but smile at how well he knew you. He handed you the warm cup of coffee, the steam rising and soothing the cold air around you.

You took a sip, expecting your favorite drink to wash a nice feeling over you but instead you found yourself wincing at the flavor.

It's bitter...

"Jagiyaaaa, try this! I know it might be sweet but doesn't that make it just like me?" Jisung wiggled his brows at you. "Its no fun to drink bitter stuff all the time try this its called- a caramel mocha latte! Its warm and delicous." He held his cup out to you and you took a sip.

"Mm. It sweet. And very warm...it is just like you Oppa~"

"Ah...I'm old enough to be your Oppa? No, No, No. Don't remind me. Seungmin will call me old if he hears you say that..."

"Seonbae?" You looked at Kyungsoo who was looking at you adamantly.

He's younger than Ji...

"Hm?"

"I said I think we both needed this, but the real fun part comes later."

You raised an eyebrow, slightly curious but still cautious. "What do you mean?"

Kyungsoo’s grin widened, and with that, he pulled out two tickets from his jacket pocket. "Karaoke. We're going to sing our hearts out. You can thank me later." He said with a wink. For a second, you were taken aback. You hadn’t sung in front of anyone ever, really. Just Jisung and and Seungmin by accident once. But Kyungsoo’s determination was contagious. He handed you a ticket, his expression turning serious, if only for a moment. "You’ll feel better, I promise."

You hesitated, the inner turmoil warring with the quiet anticipation of trying something new. After a beat, you nodded. "Okay."

The sound of music and laughter spilled from the karaoke bar as you arrived, and it sent a small jolt of nervousness through you.

The room he had rented was intimate, just the two of you. Kyungsoo picked the first song, and to your surprise, he chose something lighthearted, an upbeat tune that had your foot tapping before the first note had even finished.

He handed you the microphone, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Your turn."

You looked at him, and despite everything, despite the ache that still lingered, you smiled- just a little. "You’re lucky you’re my friend, Kyungsoo." As you sang, you felt the tension begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of freedom that was slowly returning.

It wasn’t about forgetting Jisung. It was about remembering that you still deserved to smile, to laugh, and to feel alive again.

The night at the karaoke bar flew by. You agreed to just a few drinks to lighten your mood, to forget the weight that had been pulling you down for months. But a few drinks turned into a few bottles and everything had taken a turn you hadn't anticipated.

The alcohol had hit you way harder than expected, numbing your senses and making you laugh at things that weren't even funny. And you realized this night that had meant to be fun, became a night of self pity. Kyungsoo had stayed by your side all night, a little too close, a little too eager, and you barely noticed how his eyes lingered on you in a way they never had before.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the warmth of the room, or maybe it was the pain you were still trying to hide. But suddenly, Kyungsoo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before you even registered what was happening.

But in an instant you knew.

It was wrong- everything about it was wrong.

Your heart was pounding, your mind a mess of confusion. You pulled back sharply, stumbling a bit in your drunken state, your voice slurring as you pushed him away.

"No… I can’t-"

But the words caught in your throat, your thoughts spinning. You turned on your heel, barely able to see straight as you bolted out of the karaoke room and into the cool night air. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you needed to get away. Far away. From Kyungsoo, from the kiss that shouldn’t have happened, from the memories that haunted you.

You didn't know how the night could turn to this.

You could hear him calling your name, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop. Your feet carried you away, down darkened streets and unfamiliar alleys, the city lights blurring as tears stung your eyes. The alcohol made you reckless, made you forget where you were even headed. All you knew was that you needed to escape.

Kyungsoo watched you disappear into the night, his heart hammering in his chest. He had messed up- he knew that the moment you had pushed him away, the look in your eyes a clear sign he had crossed a line. Panic set in as he rushed back in and fumbled for his phone, the alcohol making his hands shake. Your phone was still on the table where you’d left it. He grabbed it, his fingers shaking as he scrolled through the contacts.

Jisung.

Kyungsoo hesitated for a second before pressing the call button, his pulse racing as the line rang. It was late, and he wasn’t sure if Jisung would even pick up, but he had no other choice.

After a few tense moments, there was a click. "Hello?" Jisung’s voice was groggy, a mixture of confusion and irritation. As if he was just woken up. "Who is this?"

"It’s Kyungsoo," he blurted out, his words spilling over each other. "I - messed up, man. Y/N’s gone, she just ran out, and I don’t know where she went. She’s drunk, and I-"

"Where are you? Why do you have Y/N-ah's phone?" Jisung’s voice cut through the panic, suddenly alert. Kyungsoo could hear the rustling of sheets, the creaking of a couch- the sound of movement.

"We were at the karaoke bar near downtown," Kyungsoo said, his voice shaking. “She just took off, and I don’t-"

"I swear to God if you hurt her I'll end you." Jisung snapped, his tone cold and controlled. "Don't go after her. Leave her phone at the front desk. I’ll find her."

The call ended abruptly, and Kyungsoo stared at the phone, his stomach churning with guilt. He knew he had overstepped, and he could only hope that Jisung knew you well enough to find you quick.

Meanwhile, Jisung was already out the door, his mind racing. His instincts kicked in as he navigated the familiar streets, the bitter cold biting at his skin. He knew you- he knew where you went when you were overwhelmed, where you hid when things became too much. And if you were as lost and broken as he feared, there was only one place you would go. The playground. The one you guys had claimed as your own secret spot. It was the place where you'd laugh until your sides hurt, where you’d shared quiet conversations under the stars, where you had been the happiest.

His heart pounded as he rounded the corner, the familiar sight of the deserted playground coming into view. Relief washed over him when he saw a figure slumped on the swings, barely visible in the dim light. It was you- your shoulders hunched, head bowed, a picture of defeat and loneliness. And your eyes were red and puffy as you frowned at a pile of your throw up- causing an audible sigh from Jisung.

How'd she get so shitfaced...?

"Y/N," he called out, his voice hoarse with emotion, and you looked up, your eyes red and glassy, confusion crossing your face as you saw him standing there.

"J-Jisung?" you mumbled, barely able to focus as the alcohol fogged your mind. The sight of him sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over you, and you choked back a sob. "Why are you here?"

He didn’t answer right away. He just walked over, his expression a mixture of anger and concern, as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching yours.

"You disappeared," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kyungsoo called me. He said you ran off. Why didn’t you call me? Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, unable to find the words, unable to explain the turmoil inside you. Everything hurt- your heart, your head, the betrayal you felt when Kyungsoo kissed you, the betrayal you felt when Jisung left you.

"He kissed me which was gross. And you left me which was...also gross." you finally managed to say. "You left, and I don’t even know why. Pabo." You pouted.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and your face was flushed from the alcohol, but he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous the whole situation was. You were a mess, and it was breaking his heart while simultaneously filling it.

"Y/N," he called gently, his voice full of concern as he knelt down in front of you. “Can you stand up for me? Or do you need help?"

You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused as you swiveled your head side to side, the world tilting and spinning. "I’m… I’m fine," you slurred, shaking your head like you could shake the dizziness away. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself and stand, but the next thing you knew, the swing tipped just a little too far forward, and you were flung off, landing face-first into the mulch.

The crunch of the wood chips beneath you was the only thing you heard as you felt the rough ground scrape against your cheek. "Ughh…" you groaned, spitting out a few pieces of wood chips from your mouth. You sat up and wiped your face, blinking like you didn’t quite realize what had just happened. You pouted and looked up at Jisung.

He stood there, frozen for a second as he took in the sight of you sprawled out on the ground, covered in mulch, with a strange combination of tenderness and amusement. "Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down to gently pull you up by your arms.

You squinted at him through the fog of drunkenness, your face twisting in confusion. "I…I’m fine. I’m just…It tastes like dirt." You spit out a few pieces.

Jisung let out a small breath as he pulled you up. "Alright lets get you-

"What’s a squirrel’s purpose in life, huh?” you blurted, your words slurring together as you stared at him intently.

"A squirrel?" Jisung repeated, blinking in confusion.

“Yeah…" you exclaimed earnestly, tapping your head dramatically. "Do you think squirrels...feel stuck in life?"

He stared at you, utterly bewildered by the random thought, but then you laughed, and it was like all the confusion melted away.

"You know…I think squirrels must get stuck, because…they run around all the time looking for nuts…and that's all they do. They do the same things over and over again...and it's sad to watch...because nothing changes. They stay sad and by themselves..." you trailed off, your eyes suddenly going glassy and melanchoy in thought as if you were some 21st century philospher. "Just like…just like…you."

"Me?" Jisung blinked, the mention of his name snapping him back into focus. “What do you mean by that?”

Your eyes became wide and you stammered. "UM- I'm not saying youre a squirrel or like comparing you to a squirrel I just meant uh...I like you...and...you’re like a squirrel not one just like one- but with…more hair and less fur." You reached to pet his head but instead accidentally slapped his face lightly.

Jisung’s mouth hung open for a moment as he tried to process the sheer absurdity of your drunken ramblings. "Y/N- you’re drunk off your mind and have no ideas what you're yapping about. Lets go home-"

"But I’m not ready to go!" you whined, stumbling as you tried to walk, but you couldn’t quite keep your balance.

"I know you’re not," Jisung said, holding your arm so you wouldn’t fall again. "But we’re going to get you some food and water, then go home okay? You can sleep your craziness off."

You let out a half-hearted protest, but in the end, you let him lead you.

As Jisung led you into the convenience store, your stumbling steps and flushed face made you look like you were on the verge of collapse. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting a stark light over your disheveled appearance.

The store clerk, a young guy who looked barely out of high school, watched the two of you enter, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. He eyed your unsteady gait, the way Jisung was holding your arm to keep you from falling over, and the slurred way you were giggling to yourself.

"Uh…is everything alright?" the clerk asked, his tone hesitant, glancing between Jisung’s worried expression and your obviously inebriated state. His gaze was sharp, like he was assessing whether he needed to call the authorities.

Jisung quickly picked up on the guy’s alarm, his face turning serious as he tried to explain. "She’s just drunk. We’re fine, I promise," he said, his voice soft and calm. "I’m just trying to get her home safely."

The clerk didn’t look convinced, his brow furrowing even deeper. "Are you sure she’s okay?" he pressed, looking pointedly at your droopy eyes and swaying posture.

"She’s my… girlfriend," Jisung said, his voice catching slightly on the word. "She had a bit too much to drink, but I’m taking care of her." His expression was so genuine, so protective, that it seemed to ease the clerk’s suspicion, though he still looked wary.

You, blissfully unaware of the awkward exchange happening just a few feet away, had spotted a shelf of snacks and suddenly veered off in that direction, nearly toppling over in the process. "Ooh, chips!" you exclaimed, reaching for a bag with unsteady hands.

"Y/N, come here," Jisung whisper shouted, guiding you away from the snacks and back toward him. The clerk seemed to relax a little, nodding slowly, but his eyes still lingered on the two of you as if unsure whether to believe Jisung’s story.

Once you were safely by Jisung’s side again, you suddenly reached up and tugged at his hat, a playful grin spreading across your face. "Sungie, why are you wearing this dumb hat?" you asked, your voice a little too loud for the quiet store. "Take it off! It’s hiding your cute face."

Jisung’s eyes widened, and he quickly grabbed your wrists to stop you from pulling the hat off. "No, no, no," he said hurriedly, his cheeks flushing as he tried to keep his voice low. "I need my hat, okay? People can’t see who I am."

"Why not?" you pouted, tugging harder. "Are you hiding something? Are you like…a secret agent?"

Jisung let out a sigh, trying to keep his grip gentle despite your drunken insistence. "No, I’m not a secret agent, Y/N," he said with a strained voice. "I just…don’t want anyone recognizing me right now. Can you please let me keep my hat?"

You paused, your brow furrowing in deep, drunken concentration, before you finally relented with a dramatic sigh. "Fiiiine," you said, letting go of his hat, but not before giving it one last tug. "But only because you asked so nicely."

Jisung breathed a sigh of relief, releasing your wrists as he gently guided you toward the back of the store, away from the curious gaze of the clerk. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice full of affection even though he was clearly exasperated.

You just giggled, seeming entirely pleased with yourself, as if you’d just won some kind of small victory.

As you guys stood at the drink cooler you pressed your face to the glass.

"Chocolate milk…" you sighed happily. "I want chocolate milk."

Jisung’s smile faltered. "Y/N, I don’t think thats the best option. How about cucumber water?" he suggested, pulling a bottle from the cooler.

"NO!" you screeched, looking up at him with an exaggerated pout. "I want chocolate milk! It’s my favorite!”

Jisung sighed, shaking his head. "Chocolate milk it is."

As he made his way to the counter, you looked around, your gaze landing on something that made your eyes widen.

"What… what’s that?!" you pointed, half-shouting, and Jisung followed your gaze to see what you were looking at. His eyes immediately widened.

"Y/N," he said, his voice tight, "Don’t-"

It was a box of condoms, sitting on the counter in full view. You stared at them for a moment, your drunken mind processing the absurdity of the situation. Then you looked up at Jisung with wide eyes.

"Wait…they're condoms!" you said way louder than you knew you were speaking. "You…you think I should get those?"

Jisung’s face immediately flushed red, and he shook his head in panic. "No, Y/N, don’t-"

“Why not? Are we…not doing it?” You blinked, slurring your words. “I mean, we’re both…um…we’re both virgins, right? So...don't we need..."

Jisung’s cheeks burned brighter as he desperately tried to change the subject. Looking at the cashier frantically. "Y/N, please. Don’t make this weird. Lets just get you to bed."

You looked at him for a long moment before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. "I think squirrels need condoms," you said randomly, then paused, as if considering it deeply. "But…I dunno. Do squirrels even have…sex? Or do they wait until their married, too? Or do they not wait- do you think that they love the same squirrel forever?" You looked at the box in a daze. "Extra small- Ji what siz-"

Jisung’s face was now entirely red, his hand clamping over your mouth.

"Okay, that’s enough of that. Put those back." he said through gritted teeth, flustered, as he quickly led you away, throwing the box on some odd shelf. His heart was pounding, his embarrassment sky-high. "Y/N, we're leaving- now." Jisung said, slamming a random bill on the counter and grabbing you and your milk, dragging you out the store.

What the actual fuck is going on right now...shes a completley different person hammered. And why does she keep talking about squirrels? Is this her drunken habit?

You looked at the bottle of milk, frowning as you stared at it. "Why did I want chocolate milk? This is so dumb…I want strawberry milk," you said, your voice starting to quiver with drunken frustration.

Jisung couldn’t help but groan. "Y/N...Just… let’s get you home, okay? We can order strawberry milk when you're sober."

You nodded with a pout, but then suddenly, your face contorted. "I’m gonna throw up again." you muttered, and before Jisung could react, you were turned to him, your stomach heaving as you suddenly emptied the contents of your stomach all over his zipped up jacket.

"Oops, sorry Jisung...you were the closest..." you slurred weakly, looking up at him with a trembling pout. "I-I'm sorry-" You cried wailing as Jisung took a deep breath.

Lord Almighty please help me.

Jisung closed his eyes for a moment, summoning every ounce of patience he had left. The smell was already starting to hit him, and he cringed, but when he opened his eyes again and saw your tear-streaked face, his annoyance melted away. You were a mess- an adorable, chaotic, and incredibly drunk mess- but a mess he cared about more than he wanted to admit at the moment.

"It’s okay," he said, his voice soft despite the situation. "It’s just a jacket. Don’t cry, okay?" He said petting your hair softly.

"But it’s your favorite jacket!" you wailed, your voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "You always wear it in your lives! Stay will notice!"

Jisung suppressed a laugh, not wanting to embarrass you further. "I think they’ll survive, jagiya. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up."

He glanced at the jacket and sighed, carefully pulling it off and draping it over a nearby bench, knowing there was no saving it tonight.

As you walked- or stumbled -alongside him, you hiccuped, clinging to your half-empty milk like it was a lifeline. "You’re so…nice, JiJi," you slurred, resting your head against his arm as you walked. "Why did you have to be so nice? It makes it harder to…try to hate you."

Jisung’s steps faltered for a moment, your words hitting him like a sucker punch. Hate him? Did you really try to hate him after everything?

I guess I deserve that...

His chest tightened, but he pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t the time to unpack that.

"Let’s focus on getting you some rest, okay?" he said gently, avoiding your gaze as he led you toward his apartment.

When you reached his building, you perked up slightly, pointing at the intercom like it was some fascinating discovery. "JiJi! It’s like a robot but for your door! Beep-boop!" You giggled, pressing random buttons as Jisung struggled to input his code.

"Stop- hey, stop pressing things, you're making it hard baby-" he said, trying to stifle his laughter as you giggled uncontrollably. His breath caught on the last word, and he couldn't deny how natural it felt to call you that again.

Finally, the door buzzed open, and he guided you inside. As soon as you stepped into the warmth of the apartment, your voice rang out loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"MINHO! MINHO-YA! MINHO-OPPA! MINHO MINHO MINHO!" you yelled, stumbling toward the living room.

A door down the hall flew open, and Minho emerged, looking half-asleep and fully annoyed. "What the hell is going on-" His eyes landed on you, and his irritation faded instantly. "Y/N?" There was a smile in his eyes and he turned towards Jisung. "What happened?"

You hummed as you hugged Minho, and he let you hang onto him like a koala. "Minho-oppa can you beat up Kyungsoo for me? He kissed your little sister and it was gross." You said.

Minho rubbed your shoulder and looked at Jisung with a look that could only translate to:

What the actual fuck?!

Jisung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. She got drunk. And then she… uh…threw up on me."

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused despite himself. "She threw up on you? Man, that’s love."

You, completely oblivious to the tension, beamed at Minho. "I missed you."

Minho smiled, patting your back as he shot Jisung a pointed look over your shoulder. "I missed you too, you little goblin."

"Shouldn't she have missed me more...?" Jisung muttered, avoiding Minho’s gaze.

Minho studied him for a moment, then nodded, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Alright. Let’s get her to bed before she destroys the place."

He helped guide you to Jisung’s room, where you flopped onto the bed with zero grace. As Minho pulled the blanket over you, you suddenly turned to him, your face serious despite your bleary eyes.

"Minho… do squirrels get lonely?"

Minho blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…I guess? Why?" He asked making sure you were tucked in properly.

You sniffled, your voice cracking as you mumbled, "Because JiJi’s just like a squirrel…and he left me all alone…and he looks lonely too..."

Minho froze, his gaze snapping to Jisung, whose face was unreadable. You didn’t notice, too busy hiccuping and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, like an upset toddler.

"I…I thought I did something wrong," you confessed, your words slurring but still heartbreakingly clear. "I thought I broke him…so he broke me instead. But I didn't want to ask but I needed to know...so don't tell him I asked you this but-

"Does Jisung get lonely? Does he miss me like I miss him?"

Jisung felt his heart shatter all over again, guilt and regret flooding him as he watched you curl into a ball on his bed. Minho sighed, patting your head gently before standing.

"I'm sure he does...he's just too stubborn to admit it."

"So, squirrels are stubborn?" You murmured, sinking into Jisung's pillow.

"Very. But squirrels can be very passionate too. And kind and loving. They also can make mistakes..."

"Hm...they...do..." You barely managed to ask, your eyes unable to stay open.

"Yeah, but they can fix them too." Minho got up and looked at his younger member, who was staring at you with a 1000 emotions swirling through his eyes. "She’s your problem now," he murmured to Jisung, his voice soft but firm. "Fix it."

And with that, he left, leaving the squirrel-esque boy, the one you had been asking about all along, alone with the weight of your words; and the realization that he couldn’t keep running from the truth.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶ﾒ

[quintessenceofdust88]

Hello everyone! Here's the sequel for Oreos and Orange Juice (a.k.a the fluff piece with pregnant!Buck and Jee-Yun). Brought to you with extra doses of fluffiness (almot 2,000 words!) and uncle Tommy being the literal best!

It’s almost nine when Tommy finally drags himself through the door, throwing his keys in the bowl and being instantly met by the bright laughter of Jee-Yun coming from the kitchen, followed by Evan’s excited voice as he tells her a kid-friendly version of a funny rescue they performed the other day. 

Even though he’s exhausted from his shift, Tommy smiles. Jee-Yun is always a joy to have around, and the sweet child’s laughter echoing through the house gives him a wonderful glimpse of their future which is coming sooner and sooner. 

“Morning, you two” He says softly, entering the kitchen, and both of them look at him with the same excited eager Buckley signature smile. 

“Uncle Tommy!” Jee says, throwing herself against his legs, and Tommy easily lifts her into his hip. 

“Hi, princess Jee” Tommy greets her while crossing the kitchen to place a quick peck on Evan’s lips, and it’s deliciously domestic. He can’t wait for the day he’ll do it with their own kids, one twin in each arm. “How was your night? Did your uncle Evan let you up past your bedtime again?” He teases, and Jee’s giggle is all the confirmation he needs.

“Only a tiny bit, right, Jee?” Evan tells her with a wink as he slides a plate of pancakes in his direction, and Tommy could just about kiss him. He places Jee back in her chair and sits beside her. 

Evan joins them on the table with a bottle of syrup and, for some reason, a slice of cheese over his own chocolate chip pancakes. At this point, Tommy has learned better than to comment on his cravings, so he just presses a kiss to his cheek, earning a blinding smile in return.

“So how was your shift?” He asks Tommy, and he swallows the bite of pancake (delicious, as always; Tommy is absolutely spoiled by his husband's cooking) in his mouth before answering.

“It was okay, nothing major; two med-evacs. What about you guys, did you have fun?” He asks, and then tenderly nudges Jee's cheek, wanting to bring her into the conversation. “Did you take care of your uncle and the babies for me?” He asks her, expecting a small giggle. 

What he doesn’t expect is the excited gasp she lets out, swallowing her bite practically unchewed. 

“Uncle Tommy, you’re never gonna believe what the babies did last night!” She says excitedly, and Tommy can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 

“What was that, princess?” He asks curiously, and she and Evan exchange a conspiratorial glance.

“They kicked my hand!” She answers, bouncing in her seat, unable to contain her joy. “It was just like when Kevin kicked Mama but there were two of them this time, it was so cool!”

“Wait, really?! That’s so special, Jee!” Tommy tells her, his heart fluttering warmly in his chest as he looks at Evan for confirmation. 

The babies hadn’t kicked before; they had started moving about two weeks prior, and the doctor said kicks would probably start any time now. He knows Evan has been impatient about it, almost as if he was expecting it to be a confirmation the babies were okay.

“It was just as we were falling asleep” Evan tells him, his smile wide as he caresses his bump and proudly speaks of the kicks. “They’d been pretty quiet during the day, but I guess Jee inspired them, didn’t you, Jee-bug?” 

“Yeah! Uncle Buck said they were telling me good night!” She recalls, her smile never leaving her face until she looks at Tommy, and then it falters slightly. “Oh, but! I'm sorry you weren't there, uncle Tommy! They're your babies too, I bet you wanted them to say good night to you first!”

And, well; even if Tommy is slightly disappointed to have missed it, he can't have Jee apologizing for it. He kneels down to her level, a kind smile on his face.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, darlin’” He reassures her. “The babies will kick plenty of times, I'm sure. I'm glad they did it for the first time with you; it means they know they have the best big cousin in the world, don't they? Pretty smart babies if you ask me” He says with a wink, and Jee's smile can light up a whole firehouse.

“You're the best, uncle Tommy!” She throws her arms around his neck, and Tommy hugs her close to his chest for a few seconds before letting her happily return to her breakfast.

As he gets up and goes back to his own plate, Tommy glances at Evan, only to find him drying tears from his cheek. Tommy smiles teasingly at him, offering him a napkin; Evan takes it with a glare that loses all its effect because of the love in his eyes.

“I blame your children; they're making me hormonal” He says with a wet chuckle, and Tommy chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple before sitting down.

“I blame the crying Buckley gene” Tommy teases. “I'll bet you anything that Maddie will cry when you tell her about the babies kicking for Jee”

“Oh, Mama will cry!” Jee pipes up, her face covered in syrup, and the two of them laugh at her certainty as Tommy bends over with a napkin to clean her face.

“See? And she's not pregnant anymore. It's the crying Buckley gene” Tommy reaffirms, and Evan shoves his shoulder playfully.

He chuckles and pays attention to his plate again, at least until he feels Evan's hand squeezing his. Tommy looks up to see him looking so earnestly at him that his heart skips a beat.

“I am sorry, though. That you missed it” He says, almost pouting, and Tommy finds it so adorable that he kisses it right away (Jee coos at them, and Tommy slightly blushes).

“Me too, a little. But you had the best company for it, sweetheart. And I'm sure they'll kick plenty of times before they're out here” He reassures him, and then tenderly places his hand on Evan's bump. “Hear that, little blobs? You kicked for Daddy and Jee-Yun, so no pressure, but if you wanna kick for Papa too…”

He keeps his hand on Evan’s bump for a while, and the three of them are silent, staring in expectation. Tommy’s about to lift his hand, making a joke about trying again at nighttime to clear the disappointment in Jee’s eyes, when he feels it. It’s a soft thing, almost like a tap against his hand, but it’s there. It’s one of their babies, moving around and pressing their tiny foot against Evan’s belly, and Tommy’s feeling it. Evan gasps in delight, clearly feeling it as well (duh, Kinard, he tells himself. If he can feel it, Evan has to be feeling it at least twice as strong), and his hand joins Tommy’s over his bump. 

“You guys really love your Papa’s attention, huh?” He teases, softly caressing his belly. “Hi, little blobs, Daddy’s glad to see you’re awake” He coos at his bump, and before either of them can say anything else, they’re joined by the little force of nature that is Jee-Yun Buckley-Han, her hand looking even tinier than it is when she puts it over her uncles’ massive ones.

“The babies are kicking again?! They’re saying hi to you, uncle Tommy!” She says excitedly, and Tommy feels the kick again, two this time, one beside the other, almost as if one twin is nudging the other to also say hi to their expectant family. 

“And to you, Jee. I keep telling you, they already love their big cousin” He tells her, and Jee presses a soft kiss to Evan’s belly. 

“I love you too, babies. When you’re out here, I’ll teach you lots of fun things, I promise!” She says excitedly, and Tommy doesn’t doubt it for a second. Apparently, neither does Evan. 

“They’ll be so lucky to have you, Jee” He whispers to her. “Just like I was lucky to have your Mama when I was a kid”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Tommy reluctantly excuses himself to open it, but smiles when he sees Maddie on the other side. She pulls him into a hug, her usual way of greeting him by now, and Tommy can’t deny that he loves how she basically adopted him as her brother too. He grew up an only child, desperately wishing for a sister like Maddie; it feels good to have one now. 

“Hey! I was just going home from work and thought I’d pick up my little nuisance. She wasn’t too much trouble, was she?” Maddie asks, and Tommy closes the door behind them as she comes in. 

“None at all; in fact, she’s been a great help. Come see for yourself” He invites, and Maddie raises an eyebrow, but follows him into the kitchen. “Jee, look who’s here for you, princess” He announces, and both Jee and Evan look up, but this once, the little girl makes no move to run to her mother. 

“Mama! Come here! The babies are kicking! They’re saying hi!” She tells Maddie excitedly, and Tommy chuckles at how eagerly Maddie kneels down by Evan’s chair, her hands resting against her brother’s bump. “Uncle Tommy says they’re smart and know I’m the best big cousin, so they have to know you’re the best auntie too!” Her logic is sound, and Maddie sends Tommy a grateful look that has him blushing and rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“Hi, blobs” She says affectionately, and Tommy’s pretty proud of himself that the nickname stuck (he’s sure Evan isn’t). “It’s your auntie Maddie! Can you say hi? No pressure, though, I just thought-”

Tommy can tell the exact moment the babies respond to her voice, because both her and Evan gasp. They look at each other in that infuriating way of theirs, where it seems they hold an entire conversation through their gaze. Tommy may not know what they’re saying to each other, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they get emotional. And… yeah, sure thing, before long both of them have tears running down their faces. 

And damn, he’s starting to think Buckley genes are contagious, because he has to dry his own eyes at the sight in front of him. This is bigger than him, Evan and their twins: it's family, like the ones from commercials or Hallmark movies, and Tommy never dreamt he could find himself in one of those.

He’s ridiculously happy that his children will be born surrounded by this much love. They have two doting parents, an honorary grandpa (Bobby's own words, and yes, Evan cried when he said it), a horde of very lovingly aunts and uncles, , and the most special big cousin in the world in Jee-Yun (not to mention Kevin and their other bunch of cousins, like Christopher, who texts Tommy at least twice a week to make sure he’s ‘taking care of Buck right’ and hangs out at their place at least twice more, wanting to make sure his Buck is okay). It's love, and caring, and what else could he wish for his little blobs?

Yeah, Tommy thinks; if there’s anything in the world worth shedding some tears for, this is certainly it.

[Also on AO3!]

[More from Little Blobs Verse]

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if anyone else wants to be tagged, either on my fics in general or just the Little Blobs' Verse, let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri  @racerchix21 🩷🩷🩷

[bambisspeckles]

Stowaway ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: You accidentally sneak onto pirate crew 141's ship CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), self-edited! WC: 1.8K

It was a mistake, honestly you should have just stayed put. You have no idea why you thought it'd be a good idea to sneak onto any ship, at all, ever.

You suppose this cruel fate is karma for your actions.

It started in the early hours of the morning, when many passenger ships were docked. You had decided to pack a small bag with your most important belongings and sneak into one of the ships cargo holds. In theory it was a good idea, you figured most of the crew we be pretty occupied tending to passengers needs, therefore your chances of getting caught and thrown into the ocean were slim. It's a shame you the ship you decided to board wasn't a passenger ship.

You should have known, it didn't look remotely like a passenger ship. There weren't any nice amenities, only one small dining room, not nearly enough beds for the amount of people that come to and from your island, and there were too many suspicious looking locked chests. There was a voice inside your head screaming for you to get off the ship but the adrenaline being pumped through your body was too high, and the yearning to escape the hell your home brought to you overruled almost all your sense of logic and reasoning. When you found the cargo hold, you didn't even think twice before making your way inside, quickly scanning your surroundings to find the best place to hide. You decide to hide behind some unmarked crates, figuring they'd be bothered the least. You squeeze your body behind the boxes, maneuvering so all of you can be hidden well.

It feels like you're there for days, realistically you know that's not true, but you're so close to leaving this island and never looking back. No matter how tempted you are to bolt, you keep yourself firmly planted behind the crates. Finally, you hear voices, it doesn't seem like there's very many people and that makes your anxiety sky rocket, but it's much too late to sneak off and try to find another ship to become a stowaway in. Pushing your knees further into your chest, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. For hours you hear voices and footsteps above you, but no one seems to have any suspicions. In fact it's been so calm the rocking of the ship has your eyes fluttering shut, you've been fighting sleep but nothing has transpired for so long maybe a few minutes of shut eye won't hurt. As your mind battles between alertness and staying asleep you hear something.

Footsteps. Coming down the steps, right into the cargo hold.

Your heart drops into your stomach and your breath hitches. You squeeze your body into itself in an attempt to make it smaller, one of your hands coming to clasp your mouth shut. The footsteps get louder and louder until you see a large figure standing in the archway. You go rigid as you get a better look at him. He's no average sailor, he's a fucking pirate.

"Great." You think wryly. "If he finds me then I really am dead."

He's moving around some boxes, you're not quite sure why, and for a moment you think he has no clue you're there.

Unfortunately for you, that's where you're wrong.

In the blink of an eye he grabs you from behind your crate wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten. The look in his eye is dark, and the rest of his face is covered by a mask, a skull print adorning the fabric. He says nothing, only staring at you for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder and walking back up the steps, presumably to bring you to the rest of the crew.

Oh. you're totally fucked now.

The mans footsteps attract the attention of his crew as he walks across the deck, when he stops walking, he practically throws you onto the ground, forcing you to kneel before three other men.

"Wha' a bonnie thing she is… S' what tha' noise was? Was startin' worry I was finally losin' it." A man, Scottish you think, says as he stares at you. His thumb dragging down the side of your face as a devilish smirk graces his lips.

You flinch under his touch and the Scotsman quickly removes his hand but his touch is soon replaced by another, a man much more imposing than he. Rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Was wonderin' why it sounded like there was a rat down in the cargo," A dark glint flashes through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Now tell me, stowaway, wha' the hell are ya doin' on my ship."

Tears well in your eyes as you struggle against his grip, and you can feel his impatience growing as he waits for you to respond. After another moment, the final man turns to speak to you.

"Captain asked ya a question love, best answer him before he gets angry." His voice is surprisingly gentle, and when you meet his gaze, soft brown eyes stare back at you, eyes filled with pity.

The look in his eye breaks you, and fat tears begin rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" You choke out your words between sobs, your body taut under the piercing gaze of the Captain.

A beat of silence passes before the Captain of the ship releases you from his grip, your body crumbling into itself.

"I didn't know! I didn't- I don't… I just wanted to leave! I promise I didn't take anything a-and you can drop me off at your next stop, just please don't hurt me…" Your words come out watery, your voice hoarse and snot coming out of your nose, ugly sobbing as these men surround you.

The man with the soft brown eyes crouches down next you, his gentle hand wiping tears off your cheeks.

"You poor thing, you're all outta' sorts. M' sure you didn't mean any harm…" He looks towards his Captain but his head is still angled in your direction. "Go easy on her sir, poor thing is trembling."

The Captain scoffs, his arms folding over his chest as he studies you, his gaze scrutinizing, piercing through you.

"She shoulda' thought of that before sneaking onto my ship." He gives you another once over before ordering you to stand on your feet. You figure it's best to do what he says so you rise from the ground, knees almost buckling under you.

The group of men stare at you for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do with you. After a few moments, a deep voice from behind finally speaks, you turn to look at him, his skull mask making your spine tingle with terror.

"We should just throw er' off the ship, no bloody reason to keep the thing around." You wince at the way he refers to you, objectifying, dehumanizing.

"Now, now, Ghost, nae reason tae make such a hasty decision. The kitten's completely harmless! I say we keep er', it'll be so nice to have a bonnie thing on board." The man, Ghost, scoffs.

"We don' need liabilities layin' around Johnny. Sides' got no use for er'. M' sure Price is inclined to agree with me." Ghost turns his head towards Price, presumably waiting for some type of agreeance on what he said.

Before the Captain can even get a word out, he's interjected.

"M' inclined to agree with Soap- for different reasons," He pauses shooting Soap a look, but he merely shrugs back. "But I agree all the same. I mean look at er' poor thing is terrified, I doubt she came to pillage our goods Captain."

Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mulls over his, limited, options. Everyone, including you, waits for him with bated breath. Selfishly, you hope he'll keep you around a bit longer, at least then you'll get a chance to make an escape plan.

Finally, the Captain speaks.

"She can stay, for now. We can keep er' in the cellar until I figure out wha' the hell to do with her." His words carry a tone of finality, a fact that has Ghost scoffing.

"You're jus' pickin' sides cause' Gaz wants to keep er' around." He motions towards the man next to you, bitter venom coming out alongside his words.

Gaz rolls his eyes, blowing out with an irritated sigh.

"Price isn't picking sides, he's doing what's right. Just cause' you don't agree with it doesn't mean that-" Price puts his hand on Gaz's shoulder, interrupting his sentence. A silent way of telling him "settle down."

Gaz relaxes under the Captains touch.

"Gaz, Soap, take er' down to the cellar, we'll keep er' there for now. Ghost, come with me to my quarters." Ghost mumbles something in response, but his words are muffled by his mask, something you're sure he's grateful for at this moment.

You, Soap, and Gaz watch him for a moment as he follows Price like a kicked puppy. When they're finally out of view, Soap and Gaz turn their attention back to you.

"C'mon kitten, yer gonna ave' tae be a bit uncomfortable tonight, the Captain didnae plan for any stowaways.." He chuckles at you playfully, something you'd find much more comforting under different circumstances.

You suddenly feel a hand on your back, the skin a bit rough even through the fabric of your clothes. You whip your head to look behind to see Gaz, his soft brown eyes still filled with that same look of pity. He and Soap begin gently guiding you towards the ships cellar.

"It's alright love, The Captain can be a bit cruel but he won't hurt you. Even pirates have their limits… Besides, I assure you we're not nearly as bad as some of the other pirates out there. We'll get you sorted out in the morning."

You have no reason to trust these men, all you've known is that pirates cause pain and destruction everywhere they go, but the only thing you can do right now is trust them. So, you nod timidly, letting them guide without resistance.

Hopefully you can escape at the next docking place.

[kurokawaia]

Asking for a hickey 彡 Umemiya Hajime ୭ suggestive, mdni, shy!reader, first time relationship (for both partners) + more?

Thinking about Umemiya (again) and you asking him to give you a hickey for the first time. You've never gotten one nor given one and you saw a girl around your age with one on her neck and as much as you hated to say it, it looked... nice. It was as if her man was asserting his dominance even though her wasn't there. And you? You weren't opposed to that.

So, there you are, standing in between Umemiya's legs while he sits on the couch, his big hands splayed on your hips, watching you as you looking down past him to the floor. As you tug on the hem of your skirt, so many thoughts were running through your head.

Umemiya and you had only been dating for two months and as much as you didn't want to rush things, as did he, you really want more, more than just the heated make out sessions. So, asking for this is the best way to start, right?

"What is it, baby?" he asks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the fabric. "C'mon, look at me, sweets." Ume places a soft kiss to your covered stomach and butterflies fill not only your stomach but your lower abdomen.

He's making it so hard for your pretty little head to focus, you think that if he were to be so gentle with your body you would melt. "It's embarrassing though, Haji," you mumble, looking up from the floor.

You meet his gaze while moving your hands to cradle the back of his head, fingers entangling with his platinum strands. Nervous was what you felt, you know that this isn't something to be nervous about asking.

"You can tell me, ask me anything, baby," Umemiya reassures, another kiss to your stomach before pulling away, leaning into your touch.

You bite your lip before your cheeks heat up. "Could you... uh... give me... um... a hickey... please?" your say, voice dropping to a whisper.

Umemiya couldn't even process what you had just send, he is too busy malfunctioning as he's caught off guard, blinking in shock. This was only a quick reaction before his arms wrap around your hips, strong muscle pulling you into him, thus causing a soft yelp to leave your lips.

He looks up at you, soft puppy eyes and a tiny smirk playing on his lips. Your heart begins to beat faster in wondering what his reply would be, even though Umemiya looked quite the opposite of repulsed, you're still nervous of his reply.

A hickey, huh? Didn't think you'd be into that," he hums in a teasing tone and you tense up under his touch before he sooths you. "You sure you can handle it, sweetheart?"

If your face is anything, it's definitely flushed now, beet red. "Y-Yeah! I mean... I just... I wanna see what it feels like, and..." your thumb brushes over his lip hesitantly and he relishes in the touch, you add, "I trust you."

"Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want, I'll make it nice and memorable for you,” he adds "But don’t blame me if you end up wanting more after."

@unriding ume thoughts once again🙂‍↕️

[cuckoldlifeofjosie]

You like that she has a boyfriend. That she regularly gets fucked the way you know she needs and deserves. Even when she started to fall in love with him you still got aroused. So much so you encouraged her. You told her it is okay for her to have an emotional connection with him.

It was you who told her, if she really feels she loves him. She should tell him. She did the next time she saw him. Whispering "I love you too," while in bed with him. While his cock split her pussy and he slowly pushed it inside her and slowly pulled it out. They melted into each other when she said it. Kissing, dipping their tongues into each others mouths. It felt intoxicating. The desire she felt for him her pulse quickened. Telling him "I love you," made it real, it made her even love him more. To crave him. Crave his body, his touch, to be with him. When he filled her with his cum he pushed all the way in, farther than you have ever gone igniting her own orgasm. With a groan he clenched his ass as his cock throbbed and poured his fluid inside her moaning and twitching body under him. It wasn't fucking, they made love.

She told you she told him "I love you," and it aroused you so much, she watched as you had a powerful orgasm of your own and it made her feel good that you approve of her loving another man. That it arouses you too and gets you off.

You still have sex but it feels different. Like your little dick no longer belongs inside her. You can't reclaim her. She is no longer only yours so you reconnect. Sex outside her feels so much better for both of you. You rubbing your little dick on her clit, her jacking you off while she tells you about their weekend together out of town. How she told him "I love you" like a thousand times.

Both of you teased and fantasied together. She told you that you feel so much better out of her pussy. Maybe that is where you belong. Her pussy reserved for men that can fuck her the way she needs. Men like her boyfriend. It got you hot and got you off. Again she saw you orgasm in her hand harder than you ever have inside her.

Your married though, a married couple has to have sex right? So you go through these cycles. You having sex with her, then both of you fantasizing again about you only on the outside. Your angst got the best of you. That jealousy, the fear of her leaving, the feeling of inadequacy. One morning she came home to you after a long weekend vacation with him and you weren't excited. You felt hurt, even betrayed, sad and alone. You blew up at her and you had a fight. This wasn't the first time. It is like a rollercoaster of emotional and sexual highs. Then your angst hits and it comes crashing down on both of you. She didn't want to see him anymore to save your marriage. You make up and have sex. You think how hot it was that she spent a romantic weekend with him, that she didn't call, ignored your text. You wish you didn't lash out at her.

Alone you masturbate. You think about that pain she caused you. About her with him telling him she loves him like a thousand times. You are eager for her to do it again. You don't want her to leave him to save your marriage. She does do it again. They see each other to talk about what happend between you and her. They can't resist and make love. Only this time she doesn't tell you. You snoop and find out though and it feels like she cheated on you. Again the angst hits like a car hitting you head on, or someone reaching into your body and pulling your heart out.

You tell her you know. You forgive her though. Encouraging her to keep seeing him.

One day you go on a website. A website you never thought you would be on. There are so many choices. Micro, short, small sized cages. Rings that hold it into place. You do it. You order a micro chastity cage for your tiny little sissy dick. So you can lock it up.

It feels so arousing when it arrives. You try it on. It feels tight around your balls and restricting around your dick. But you like it. You wear it all day and it reminds you, you are a cuckold, a sissy. It feels submissive, it feels right. You want your wife to openly cuckold you. Even cheat on you if she wants. Your dick swells but it can't get hard. A feeling that is hard to describe, blood is flowing to your dick. It is a warm pleasure a feeling of humiliation and arousal. You show your wife and she laughs. "It is so cute, you really are tiny." Her words should humiliate you but they arouse you too. So much so you make sure you tell her it is a micro cage. It helps, she spends the night with him and you feel the pleasure and pain of the cage all night. Like she is giving you a gift, being at another mans house and making love. The cycle goes on and on. She takes it off. You slip inside her, then you unintentionally slip out and she laughs. "Your little dick isn't made to stay inside me, that is what my boyfriends cock is for." Again you should feel humiliated but it gets you harder. You rub your dick on her pussy and cum so fucking hard your toes curl. You both want it but you can't admit it as fact, not fantasy. You want to be pussy free and she doesn't want your dick in her pussy anymore. She fantasizes and masturbates about having sex with other men, she craves and desires sex with her boyfriend when she cums on her vibrator.

You fantasize about and masturbate thinking about her getting fucked like a slut by other men. you crave for her to see her boyfriend again and make love to him so you can be and feel like the sissy cuckold you are. You want to accept it. You understand she might leave you, you don't want her too but it is an arousing thought. A fantasy you don't want to come true but accept that it might. Her leaving you for another man she loves. You are now being emotionally cuckolded. Uncertainty is part of life. It is time. To lock it up, time for permanent chastity. Time for her pussy only to be for other men.

[animeyanderelover]

Little information that reader only knows Karlheinz under the name Sakamaki Sougo so they'll call him that throughout the one-shot.

Summary: You should have never allowed your emotions to get the better of you. You should have kept only a strictly professional relationship with Sakamaki Tougo. Now as you find yourself in his apartment after one passionate night you can't stop your heart from quivering with guilt and fear, wondering if this will be the final blow to push your life already hanging to its last threads into the abyss.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, isolation, mentions of dub-con

Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt 50

Hot steam rose from the cup of coffee that he placed down in front of you. Pale fingers was the only part of him that your vision, strictly focused on the table, could see. Memories of last night briefly resurfaced, of those very fingers reverently tracing over your skin. You quickly shook your head the moment those images crossed your mind, reprimanding yourself mentally though your inner voice sounded far too meek for it to be taken seriously.

"You're distressed."

Your body reacted before your brain did, warmth blossoming in your chest, your stomach, your cheeks as his baritone voice stated the simple observation. Pleasant and soothing, it was a sound you would have gladly drowned yourself into.

Already you found yourself longing for the sensation of cool skin pressed against your heated one and of that voice whispering gently in your ears, lulling you gently into a dreamful sleep where only he existed.

Soft scrapes of chair legs being dragged across the floor reached your ears as you could see how he took a seat right next to you. All of his attention, solely on you. Right now you were in a position many other women and even men longed to be in, your heart fluttering in your heart. A part of you indeed felt the exhilaration, the thrill, the bliss. Every euphoric emotion that came with the knowledge that Sakamaki Tougo had revealed his feelings for you.

However...

Teeth sank into your bottom lip to prevent the quiver that threatened to show. Your deadline had already passed, your last chance snuffed out just like that. Your promotion was gone. Your professional image was most likely gone as well. Even if no one would be able to prove that you had slept with Sakamaki Tougo the rumors would be unstoppable. After all quite a lot of people knew that you had been heading to his apartment after he had accepted your request to hold an interview with you.

It was all over for you.

You weren't even aware of the teardrops that escaped your eyes. Not until the sensation of his cool fingers brought it to your attention, your skin tingling as he touched you.

A teary gaze met golden eyes which were observing you calmly, shortly following a single tear that slid down your cheeks as if the sight was something utterly captivating to him before focusing on your damp orbs once more.

His hands reached out, gently opening your own that you had subconsciously balled into tight fists before embracing them. The hold he had on your hands stabilised you in a way, soothing yet subtly smothering at the same time.

You needed that reassurance though, your heart which was torn apart between blissful peace and existential dread yearning for comfort from someone. Sougo felt in that moment like the only person who could give you what you were seeking out, like the only person you wanted to seek out.

"Sougo..."

Your voice was but a small tremble as you stared into those golden eyes, so collected and poised that your mind and body felt docile and weak, only strengthening your urge to rely on him right now.

"Yes, my heart?"

"I'm scared..."

It was strange. As you looked at him it felt like he was already well-aware of every tiny emotion you were experiencing. Normally it should have made you uncomfortable to be so exposed yet with Sougo it didn't feel that way. Instead it felt almost reassuring, knowing that he knew everything about you already which meant that you didn't have to pretend.

"Tell me why," he demanded with a voice as soothing as summer rain, his gaze only seeing you. Every single tear, every tremor of your body even the feeling of your sweaty palms due to your increasing nervousness. It was all nothing but the finest art in his eyes. You were his Magnum Opus he had searched for.

"I-I-I-"

"Take a deep breath."

Your chest rose and sank shakily as you followed his advice so that you could form a proper sentence.

"I'm probably going to lose my job. I don't know what to do now," you pressed out, quivers interrupting any steady tone you tried to infuse your words with. It was impossible for you to regain your control in this situation. You were scared and felt unsure of your own feelings.

Temporary silence filled the room, only interupted by your quiet sobs. Sougo on the other hand studied your every reaction very closely, appearing thoughtful.

Then he slowly moved closer, gauging your confused yet elated reaction to it all. How desperately you itched to close that difference, to be embraced once more in his hold.

"Do you regret what we did last night?"

Your heart immediately answered that question for you, lurching painfully as his question registered in your mind.

No. Never.

It was your conscience that was the sole reason for your guilt. You had principles you wanted to uphold, work ethics you should have followed only to throw it all away in the face of your infatuation.

The golden gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as if considering the answer he had extracted from you despite you not having uttered one single word.

Guilt. It was such a silly, little notion. One he would most likely never understand.

"I don't. It was beautiful, (y/n). You were beautiful."

His gaze found yours again as he told you that last sentence, only adding to the fluttering euphoria you knew you shouldn't feel. It was difficult though, especially since it was far more tempting to numb your mind with bliss than to confront yourself with your own morals.

"I-I think it was beautiful too..." you admitted, your voice only a whisper as if you were afraid that stating it loudly would be like confessing to a sin you shouldn't have committed in front of god himself.

"It's just-well..." you trailed off, you didn't know how to finish the rest of the sentence. However, you should have known that Sougo already knew very well what was going on in your head.

"It's just hard for you knowing that this might cost you your job."

A shaky exhale left your lips as you nodded. You hadn't looked at your phone since you had woken up, far too terrified to see any notifications of missed calls and unread messages from your co-workers or even your boss.

"Let me handle it for you then."

Your eyes widened a smidge. Warmth blossomed in your heart whilst your mind could only imagine how much worse rumors would get if Sakamaki Sougo himself would ask from your boss to forgive you.

"No.Youdon'thaveto.Icanhandlei-"

One of his fingers rested on your lips, stopping your breathless rambling and forcing your thoughts back on him. Your heart was throbbing in your chest and you wondered if he could hear it.

"Why? Why would you do all of this to me? For me?"

"I told you already last night, didn't I?"

His face was only inches away from you, your heartbeat increasing as it begged for the distance to be closed.

"I love you."

Cold lips covered yours, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his tighter as your emotions threatened to burst. It felt unnatural how dizzy one simple kiss from him made you feel. It was addicting, his lips experienced and confident.

As soon as he pulled away you had to ground yourself for a few seconds, your mind spinning. Still, his face was still way too close for you to even attempt to regain a sliver of composure. Somehow you didn't want to either.

Not when he looked at you as if you were the finest artwork worth nothing but admiration and reverence.

“Tell me, is love supposed to be…this passionate?”

Your breath stuttered in your throat as your mind struggled to find the right words, any words for that matter, to answer his question.

"I... I think love is a very different experience for everyone."

Maybe other people would have scoffed or rolled their eyes at your response but Sougo truly seemed like he took your answer into consideration.

"What is love for you then?"

What was love for you?

"I don't know," you pressed out thinly, scared that your answer might displease him. You couldn't detect anything from only trying to read his face alone.

"Don't worry," he assured you soothingly, one of his hands resting on your forehead, his thumb gently applying pressure against the skin.

Sleepiness started to seep into your body, your eyelids growing heavy as your body leaned forward to rest against his own. You immediately relaxed as soon as he wrapped his arms around you, his embrace strong and adoring.

"We'll figure the answer to that question out together."

For him had started as fascination. Then appreciation. Ultimately it became a possessive feeling that was as deep and thick yet also as serene as the ocean on a sunny day. On the surface levels everything appeared to be tranquil and harmless but the deeper it went the darker and oppressing everything became.

That was love.

Or at least it was the name Karlheinz knew how to love you. How many centuries had he tried to understand how to feel emotions himself? How many nights had passed where he had studied the emotion humans referred to as love, the feeling that drove people into bliss and agony, into happiness and insanity?

Throughout all of his studies love had always been the emotion that he had struggled to understand the most. Fear, joy, sadness and rage were of a simple structure that was easy to predict. Love on the other hand was always tied to all of human's emotions as if it couldn't come without bringing other feelings with it. Where love was there was also fear. Where love was there was also joy. Where love was there was also sadness. Where love was there was also rage.

How could it be that one singular emotion could give birth to so many other feelings within one's heart? How could love, meant to bring only joy and elation, push people beyond insanity? It was if love had an unlimited potential to bring out either the worst or the best in humans and it was this potential that had captured Karlheinz's interest.

Love turned everyone it infected into a slave for its power and allure, the strongest emotion of all. Humans were nothing but unfortunate victims, far too weak to conquer that blooming feeling.

Karlheinz was no human though nor was he a mere vampire. He was someone much more powerful. Someone who would conquer even love.

[kaybug88]

Dabi x Pro! Reader

Based on HEARTBEAT by Isabel LaRosa 

TW: Angsty (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong ;-;), Suggestive themes at beginning, mentions of blood

Requested? Nope! WC: 1.6k

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Being with him was painful. He loved you, you loved him, but it would never work. The most wanted Villain in Japan and one of the top pros, it's laughable. It was a back-and-forth battle between finding the courage to stop things and waking up in his bed the next morning with clothes scattered on the floor.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

“We can't keep going back and forth like this, Dabi. . .”

You say with panted breath as he pulls away from your puffy lips. His normally cerulean blue eyes clouded with lust, and a clear frustration. You two almost got caught. . . again . . . Just mere hours ago, he had to shove you behind him when Toga came skipping into his room, asking what he wanted to eat.

-

“Kurogiri is getting us some food! What do you want?” 

She had said in a sing-song voice.

Only thing he wanted, and planned to eat tonight was you.

But he’d never say that to anyone besides you.

He had eventually got her to go away, telling the blonde he wasn't hungry.

Well, not for actual food anyway.

-

“What do you mean?”

He said with a hint of annoyance, lips parted and breathing coming out in heavy pants. The way he looked down on you was almost scary, but so delightful at the same time.

“You know wh-”

You had tried before he cut you off with another hunger filled kiss, he was acting as though he was a starved man, and your lips were his final meal. He eventually pulled away; brows furrowed in frustration.

“No. No I don't. Last time I checked, as much as I don’t want to say it, you love me, and I love you. Why do you want this to stop?”

He asked with clear frustration. He was right though. You love each other, and both of you hate it, even if you wouldn't admit either. You both have this burning desire for one another, and not just for casual hookups.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

You feel his heartbeat speed up, pounding on his rib cage, almost as if his heart had grown a mind of its own and ached to be free.

“I think you do, though. . . I'm a pro, and you're a Villain. . . It won't work, and even if it does, I- we cou-”

You're cut off with a gasp as he roughly bites your neck, small amounts of blood oozing from where he bit, his tongue licking the metallic tasting liquid as if it was sweet nectar.

“I don't care about that right now. I need to know why you suddenly don’t want to be mine, for me to be yours.”

“We don't talk about it, but we know that you're mine.”

“I never said that. . . It's just. . .”

“Just what? Just what is it?”

He said in a slight outburst. He almost seemed. . . nervous, like he didn't want to lose you.

As for what he was feeling, this was a sudden outburst of nervousness he never wanted you to see. He hated feeling nervous, he thought being nervous was weak, but for you? He was beyond scared you'd try to leave him. He had learned to love again for you. It wouldn't matter If you didn't want to be with him anyway, he'd tear apart the world just to find you again.

You both were scared of what would happen if your relationship was put into the open.

“It's okay, you're nervous, it's obvious and you can't hide.”

“I'm scared, okay! I'm scared other pros will find out about us, they'll throw you in Tartarus, and they'll throw me in there with you!”

You replied in an outburst.

It was the truth.

If you weren't so nervous of people finding out about you two, you'd selfishly keep him for yourself, letting others know you have him wrapped around your finger.

You two were getting too close, and things were getting increasingly dangerous to try and see each other.

You both have been idiotic, especially the times he liked to watch you during patrols. If he was feeling reckless, he'd purposefully stand in places he knew you'd go by, just so you two can talk.

“We're too close, I should go.”

But no matter how dangerous things have been getting to see one another, you'd never want to stop. Neither of you did, no matter how hard it was to love each other.

“Don't let me drive home.”

He doesn't say anything after your exclamation of how scared you were to be caught, instead he lowers his lips onto yours.

The kiss isn't as hungry anymore. The soft movements each say their own things, and you understand just how nervous he is too. The kiss whispers things to you, you sending your own unspoken words to him as your lips move against each other.

You simply loved how he could kiss you like this; soft, loving, and nothing less than undevoted care, and how he could kiss you like a starved man. If he could, which he absolutely would, you'd let him take your very soul. As much as he was yours, you were his, and you were more than happy for it to be that way.

“Take my soul, need control, now that we're alone.”

During the slow kiss, his heartbeat slows. His heartbeat whispers its own things to you. Even though he isn't one to say words such as ‘I love you's’ often, he still did and made up for those missed words in times like these. 

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

Loving each other was beyond frustrating. Especially for him. Sometimes he hated How unbelievably in love he was with you. He couldn't stand how if you called him, asking to simply speak, he'd drop the very thing he was doing to accompany your every need.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

He was so unbelievably in love with you- down right obsessed with you, it was obvious. The League had, and will continue to, accuse him of finding someone to love, demanding they meet her, unknowingly meet you. He knows they can't, because God forbid the hellish wrath that would unleash if they found he was dating a pro hero.

“Obsessive, you look closely, but I like that.”

You know he's obsessed with you, know he'd tear the world apart simply to find, and ravish you. Hell, he'd set this world up in his memorizing blue flames if you even suggested it.

He's not afraid to show it either. More times than you can count has he wrapped his long, rough fingers around your wrist, telling you your his, and how he'd kill anyone who dared to even think about laying a finger on you that isn’t himself.

“Possessive, you're not mine, but you imply that.”

Even though he was possessive as he is, it doesn't mean he isn’t yours. 

He begins to kiss slowly along your jawline after moving away from your lips. He makes his way from your jaw to your nose, to your forehead, and then back around to your lips, leaving a fiery feeling in his wake.

“We're too close, I should go.”

You don't mind times like these. In fact, you cherish them to the utmost degree. They remind you that you're loved, they show you your villain boyfriend can be as soft as any other person. These close times are soft and loving, and you couldn't wish for more.

“Don't let me drive home.”

Sometimes you wish you could stay like this forever, your soft lips against his chapped ones, moving in a synchronized harmony. Even though he preferred the time things were desirable, rushed, and lustful, he loved these times just as much.

He loved the times like these, times like these were what reminded him of a loving touch the soft kisses he missed from growing up. He loved times like these where you had taught him it's okay to feel upset, to feel love.

“Take my soul, need control, now that we're alone.”

He presses one last long, soul overpowering kiss to your lips. The kiss has desire, but the kind that's adoration and care filled. Once he brings his lips away from your own, he places his forehead on your own, lips parted and eyes closed as you sit in a comfortable silence, the only audible thing is the breathing coming from the two of you.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

You had gone from  rushed, lustful and hunger filled emotions to this. To  soft, caring, and love filled soft breaths exchanged between you two.

“You hate It that you love me, love me, love me.”

Sometimes, more times than not, it was hard to love one another. Hard to keep things secret, hard to see each other while you were working with other pros.

But you both managed.

“I can feel your heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat.”

Heartbeats and breaths slowed while you sit in each other's presence. The air isn't as hot and stuffy as before, now it's almost soft, easy to breathe in.

You could get used to this. Sure, you loved your work and didn't fully approve of the way Dabi did things, but you could live like this, in this moment.

“You hate it that you love me, love me, love me.”

You can't help but think to yourself as he grumbles against your neck, his breathing slowed, and lust nearly gone from his eyes, replaced by complete adoration before his eyes flutter shut after opening just to look at your eyes, just as love filled. You smile softly to yourself before drifting to sleep with him. Tomorrow won't be like this, and you don't expect any days soon to be like this, but you could live with that.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

AN; So, this was my first, ever, post worthy work! What do you think? I know, I know, it’s pretty cringe and repetitive from the song, but I feel like it’s a start. If you have any suggestions on what to do differently in future works, please, please, let me know!

[aventurineswife]

Hello! Apologies for not using the request box, but I wanted to ask anonymously. Is it possible for you to do Aventurine with a reader who has agoraphobia? Somewhat similar to Futaba Sakura from Persona 5. They struggle to leave their home and whenever they do, they end up feeling very light-headed and scared due to the anxiety that comes with it, and rely heavily on a trusted person to feel safe with. Hope I explained it well enough, it's so late here rn so I'm like half-asleep rn lol, tysm!

“Hold my hand and I’ll take you there, somehow, someday”

Summary: Aventurine helps you face your agoraphobia, taking small steps together to step outside your home. Though the outside world feels overwhelming, his unwavering support and gentle encouragement help you navigate the anxiety, proving that no matter the obstacles, you’re never alone when he's by your side.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Agoraphobia, Anxiety, Supportive Relationship, Comfort, Gentle Romance, Emotional Support, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and agoraphobia, Light-hearted but emotional themes, Mild panic/anxiety attacks.

A/N: dw! I'm literally half asleep most of the time while writing these fics 💀

Aventurine had always been a man of high stakes and calculated risks. His world revolved around strategy, manipulation, and power. But there was something about you that made him discard all his usual games. With you, everything felt different. You were his sanctuary, a calm he could never find anywhere else.

He first met you at a party, his usual charm and sharp wit on full display, yet he found himself drawn to you in a way he hadn't anticipated. You were quiet, a little reserved, yet there was a depth to you that intrigued him. It wasn't until much later that he learned about your struggle—your agoraphobia, the anxiety that clung to you like a second skin, making the outside world seem more like a battlefield than a place for living.

You never fully revealed the extent of your fears, but Aventurine, ever the observant strategist, had seen enough to understand. When your trembling hands would grip the edge of the doorframe when you were about to step outside, when you'd look to him with uncertainty, he knew.

Tonight, as the world outside was cloaked in the soft glow of the streetlights, Aventurine stood in the doorway of your apartment, eyes flicking to you with a gentle concern.

"You're thinking of going out again, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, like velvet, though there was a hint of playfulness in it. He always knew when your thoughts drifted toward venturing outside.

You hesitated, fingers nervously playing with the hem of your sleeve. "I... I just feel like I should try. I need to do it. Maybe just for a short walk."

He stepped closer to you, his presence like a calm weight in the room. "You know you don't have to, right? But, if you do, I'll be right by your side. Always."

His words were like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of anxiety. Aventurine's soft smile reminded you that, despite the world outside being overwhelming, you weren't alone. Not when he was with you.

"I... I don't want to be a burden." you murmured, glancing away, embarrassed by the constant need for his support.

Aventurine tilted your chin gently, making you meet his gaze. His eyes glistened with warmth and understanding. "You could never be a burden to me. I’m here because I want to be. And you’re not weak for needing help. You're brave for even considering it."

His words wrapped around you like a blanket, soothing the tightness in your chest. The weight of the world outside, so daunting and far-reaching, suddenly seemed lighter when you were with him.

"Just a walk. And if you need to turn back, we turn back. No questions asked. No shame." Aventurine reassured you, his hand gently brushing against yours.

You looked at him, your heart beating a little faster, but this time not from fear. There was a soft fluttering inside you, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through your chest.

Slowly, you nodded. "Okay. Let's try. But only if you're with me."

"Always." he promised, his smile widening as he took your hand in his, leading you to the door.

The walk outside was nothing extraordinary to most. It was just a few blocks around the neighborhood, the moon casting a soft light on the sidewalks. But to you, it was everything. Each step you took outside was a victory, and each moment of his presence beside you made the world feel just a little less intimidating.

Aventurine kept the conversation light, his voice drawing you out of your head. He teased you gently about your nervous glances at every passerby, and you laughed, the sound bright and genuine. Even as your heart raced and your thoughts threatened to spiral, he was there, grounding you with his presence, reminding you that there was no rush. No pressure.

Halfway through the walk, you began to feel the familiar light-headedness creeping in, the anxious tension rising like a storm in your chest. Your breath hitched, and your grip tightened on his hand.

"Aventurine, I—" you began, but he squeezed your hand gently, cutting you off.

"Hey, it’s okay," he said softly, stopping in his tracks. He turned you toward him, his eyes full of understanding. "You don’t have to go any further. Let’s head back, yeah? We’ve already won by being out here, together."

You blinked at him, a wave of relief washing over you. You had feared that stepping outside, just stepping out the door, would somehow break you, but with him, you realized that you didn't need to conquer the world all at once. Small steps mattered too.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah... let’s go back."

With a smile, Aventurine tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the light from the streetlamp catching the delicate curve of his smile. "See? No need to rush. We have all the time in the world."

The walk back felt different—lighter. You could feel the weight lifting off your shoulders as Aventurine led you back to your apartment, his hand firmly clasped around yours. It wasn’t just about the journey outside. It was about knowing that, with him, you didn’t have to fight your battles alone.

When you finally stepped back inside your sanctuary, the familiar walls offering you comfort, Aventurine closed the door behind you both, turning to face you with an almost proud glint in his eyes.

"Look at you," he said softly, his voice full of affection. "You did it. You made it outside, and we did it together. I'm so proud of you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against him, the comforting presence of his warmth surrounding you. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

Aventurine chuckled, brushing his lips lightly against your forehead. "I’ll always be here. You’re never alone."

And as you stood there, in your home, with him by your side, you realized that with Aventurine, stepping into the world didn’t seem so impossible. Not when you had a partner who understood, who would walk beside you no matter how many steps it took.

[scrumptiouskoalahottub]

☁️diffuse | George Clarke

[ George wasn't known for having a temper, although a sweet and nonchalant man his limits can be tested, one comment from another guy in a bar, leads to Chris calling you to come and calm George]

It's 11pm, your eyes feel heavy from a long day, you're tucked up on the sofa watching Netflix with a pizza; George was out with his friends celebrating one of their birthdays. You flick through the tv trying to find a film to watch when your home rings.

Chris Dixon is calling..

You look at phone confused "Chris?" You answer the phone "y/n, you need to come to the bar, George won't calm down" you eyes widen "wait what do you mean, what's wrong?" You shuffle off the sofa "a guy made a comment about you from George's instagram and he's just gone nuts, he's really worked up, can you please come?" Chris pleas "yeah of course I'm on my way, try keep him as calm as you can until I get there" you say throwing a jacket on, luckily they'd only gone to the bar down the street so you weren't far away. You walk in to the bar and see a crowd of guys hustling around 2 men, you barge past as you see George shouting, the man retaliating. You see the male pick up a bottle, as if he was threatening George with it, your instincts kick in "that's ENOUGH" you bellow, everyone turns to look at you as George snaps his head around "put that bottle down, don't you even dare think about using that against him right now, it'll be the last thing you do I can guarantee" the man laughs "is that so? What makes you think I'd listen to you" George's eyes flare up with red again "George LEAVE it!" You say gripping his hand, your touch sends a wave of calm throughout him, you feel his tenseness slacken as his fists become unclenched. "See you need your bitch to come do all the work for you?" The man chimes in again, you tell Chris to take George outside, George hesitant "GO!" He shuffles out the bar with Chris as you snap your head back around "no he doesn't, but the fact that you feel the need to pick up a bottle shows more of how big a coward you are than my boyfriend, if you're that scared of a woman being more mouthy than you, I'd suggest you'd not take your foul mouth up as a day job" you say, walking away from the man.

You walk outside to George sat with his head in his hands "baby I'm sorry, I didn't want you here, they shouldn't of called you" he says "George I'm not angry at you, it's a good job they did call me, you know nobody else is able to straighten you out when you're in the war path apart from me" you say placing a hand on his shoulder as he looks up "I know, he just said some things about you that I didn't appreciate" he says holding your gaze "I know baby but just try not to take them to heart in future, it's hard to hear but I'd rather someone speak bad about me than you get hurt for reacting, now let's get you both home" you say looking at them both. You walk them up the street and walk them to your flat "Chris you can have the spare bedroom" you say gesturing him inside as George plods along. You help George take his shoes off as you usher him to bed, grabbing a glass of water for him to drink. You both slide into bed as you lay on his chest "what would I do without you" he says kissing your head "I love you" you say in response as you both fall asleep.

-

🫶🏻

[mc-lukanette]

Marinette took a breath, as well as her time, as she made sure that everything was correct. She'd looked up all available information that she could, wrote it all down multiple times to make sure she'd memorized it, and now it was just a matter of putting it to work.

Her knees began to hurt from kneeling on the hardwood for so long, but she persisted, wiping sweat from her forehead to keep it from dripping onto and potentially ruining her work. The chalk in her hand had been whittled down to a little nub, causing her knuckles to occasionally scrape against the living room floor as she drew with it, but she merely adjusted her grip and kept going.

She'd worked so hard for this. She couldn't delay it now.

When she finished, she took a step back to survey her work. Though the lights were off, the illumination from the candles provided more than enough for her to see what mattered; if anything, she added too many.

Nevertheless, the drawing on the floor matched what she'd put in her sketchpad, barring the excessive notes and instructions she'd written for herself.

It was ready.

Retrieving the slip of paper from her pocket, Marinette patted her chest, took a sip of water from the cup on the coffee table, and cleared her throat. The absolute, most embarrassing thing would be to do all of this and then mess up because she couldn't pronounce something properly.

With a quick tongue twister to ensure that her mouth was set for the task at hand, she finally looked down at the paper and read it aloud, that mess of letters and pronunciations that she wasn't sure she'd ever used in her life. Her notes helped, but she could hope that she got it right.

At first, nothing happened. Marinette stared down at her drawing, then at the candles that looked pretty but ultimately weren't doing anything. Her work suddenly appeared as a random impulse to draw on the floor and make it look spooky by using the candles.

Then, she felt a light breeze. The fire on the candles wavered, flowing outwards away from the center of her drawing. She took a cautious step closer, feeling the wind grow stronger to where the hair flowing over her shoulders was blown behind her, falling loosely along her back.

All at once, the fire on the candles were snuffed out, Marinette's breath catching as she watched it the flames appear in the center of her drawing. The colors flashed, from orange, to blue and then to pink, before the fire blazed outwards with a vengeance. Startled, she jumped back, swearing that she saw the embers touch her bangs, yet her hair seemed perfectly fine when she checked. It made sense coming from a magical fire, but she wasn't used to it.

She'd never tried summoning a demon before.

Sparks of light popped off from the ever-brightening fire, sounding like tiny fireworks amidst the hissing of the flames. She couldn't bring herself to look away for an instant, even when she had to squint against the light.

Faintly, she could spot a forming silhouette in the middle of the fire, but couldn't make out any definite shapes. It was only as it blazed upwards, all energy from her efforts coalescing into that one moment before bursting and burning itself out, that she could finally see the being it'd hidden.

Demon horns, sticking out amongst a mass of black hair that was blue at the tips. As if that weren't enough of a giveaway of the inhuman nature, the demon - notably male - had skin that was light blue and had notable ridges going along it, as well as blue eyes that glowed in the darkness of the room.

His eyes met hers. Marinette's heart pounded at her success, perfectly in tune with his footsteps as he approached her. Could he hear it?

"You summoned me," he stated, placing a clawed hand to his chest. In contrast to the hint of fangs that showed through, his smile was soft and polite. "How can I help you?"

She blinked, dropping the slip of paper she'd been holding, almost unable to believe that her plan had actually gone through without a hitch. With all of her bad luck, she half-expected to summon a dragon or giant or something and have to explain to everyone why her house was destroyed.

"O-oh!" She hadn't planned this far and hurried to formulate an introduction. Flailing, she babbled, "Yeah, yes, of course! Um, I'm Marinette, and I really could use your help!"

"Hi, Marinette," he greeted. "I'm Luka."

Luka. All things considered, it was a surprisingly human name, but she remained focused on the task at hand.

"Right. Well, see... the thing is—" She brought her fists up in determination. "I need someone to cuddle with."

A pause followed, only accompanied by a slow blink from Luka. His smile faltered, expression turning to confusion.

"...What?"

Marinette faltered as well, but for entirely different reasons. "You can't do that?"

"No—" He shook his head, the smile returning with amusement as he ran his claws along his shirt. "Sorry. No one's ever asked for that before. You surprised me."

"Oh." She sighed in relief.

"We can use magic for almost anything. Why do you think we wouldn't cuddle with someone?"

"Culture?" She shrugged. "I thought maybe demons would have rules or etiquette for this. Maybe it'd be weird to cuddle with a human or you'd be—I don't know." She waved off her own idea. "Allergic?"

He snorted, and didn't bother to hide it. "Thanks, but I'll be fine." He looked down at her summoning circle, asking, "Is that why you added more candles? To set the mood?"

She followed his gaze to the floor, able to see his tail now that the glow from his eyes was directed downwards. She wondered how it would feel, both having or touching one. "No. It just... didn't seem like enough? I thought, if I was going to summon a demon, they'd deserve more than what the instructions said."

She'd nearly run out of candles during the process, though it did make for a nice look when she added some tea candles around the taller ones. For a demon making an entrance, it seemed appropriate.

"They're scented," he added, crouching down to take a closer look. "Is that vanilla?"

With a flick of her wrist, she replied proudly, "That is to set the mood! I was trying to think of something soft, and maybe you don't have marshmallows where you're from but it's the perfect soft treat here!"

He hummed, grin widening the more she explained. Placing his hands on his knees, he pushed himself back up to his full height and turned to her. "Should we start then?"

Marinette bounced on her heels, positively thrilled. There was a voice in her head expressing concern over how she was so excited over things simply not going wrong, but she ignored it.

"Yeah! I already have something set up in the corner, ah—" She looked around, trying to spot it in the darkness, but couldn't. Turning back to Luka, she raised a finger towards him. "...Hold on!"

"Wait—"

Just as Marinette went to turn around, a hand caught her wrist. She stiffened, looking back at him worriedly. "What is it? Did you change your mind?"

"We should take care of this first."

He didn't elaborate on what he meant, but he wouldn't stop staring at her hand and she quickly realized why. There were some minor abrasions on her fingers from all the times her knuckles had brushed against the floor, as well as a small burn from when she'd rushed through baking that day so she could do all this sooner.

"It's not a big deal," she insisted, not used to such a reaction. Her friends always rolled their eyes at her clumsiness instead of fretting. "I get hurt all the time."

Luka didn't respond to that. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Eh?"

"That's where you keep your ointment and bandages, right?"

"Uh, yeah, but..." She trailed off, unsure of how to handle this. Didn't demons only ever care about doing what was asked of them, or was that a common stereotype? Would she be expected to pay him extra for this and, if so, how much? Half a soul? A quarter of a soul? How would one go about that?

Those were the thoughts bouncing around in her head as Luka took her across the room, hitting the light switch on the way. Though she hadn't given him any guidance, he smoothly navigated the hallway until he found the bathroom himself.

He had her sit on the bathroom countertop while he rummaged around the cupboards for the necessary supplies. She watched him in a mixture of awe and puzzlement, having apparently not been permitted to do anything, and her hand unconsciously rubbed where he'd grabbed her.

Though his skin had been rough, his grip hadn't been. She still thought he was overreacting, but when she saw the horns moving about just underneath the sink, she couldn't find it in herself to say it.

"Do you do this for everyone?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"It depends on the person," he replied, not looking up from the first aid he was sorting on the other side of the countertop.

What did that mean? That he only did it for clumsy people? For people he thought were worth it? Or...?

After washing her hand under water and drying it, he applied ointment that he managed not to puncture whilst squeezing the tube. His claws, as she soon noted, were also good for more than what one might imagine, as he was adept with handling the bandages thanks to his skin never coming into contact with the sticky side. His claws would handle it, reminding her vaguely of tweezers or a thread slipping smoothly through a needle.

Holding her hand to look it over, he asked, "Is it too tight?"

"Hm?" She blinked at him. "No, you're not even squeezing it."

He raised a brow at her, but smiled. "The bandaging."

"Ah—" She blushed, eyeing his work and flexing her fingers to test; anything to avoid eye contact in that moment. "Y-yeah, it's good. Comfy. Do you do this a lot?"

"I have a little sister," he explained. When he let go of her hand and turned, she thought he might not elaborate, but he added, "We got into a lot of trouble when we were kids and I'd take care of her."

It was odd hearing him so casually bring up a sister. If she'd closed her eyes, she could've pictured a human person standing in front of her instead of a demon. The thought of them having siblings hadn't even occurred to her.

And now she was learning that he's a big brother type. That was... cute, actually.

Hopping down from the countertop to follow him out of the bathroom, she frowned sympathetically. "I guess you got punished by your parents for it?"

He snickered. She didn't understand what could be so funny until he glanced over his shoulder at her and replied, "My mom was more trouble than the both of us, actually."

She gaped at him. There were so many implications to that and the curiosity was burning a hole in her brain. She only held back because they'd arrived at the living room where her little "cuddle area" awaited them.

It was simple, but with every effort made to get it looking comfortable. She'd used cushions, pillows, and the comfiest blankets she had to make a space in the corner that was in every way effective for a place to get snuggled. The scent of vanilla only added to the appeal.

"You went all out," Luka said with an impressed whistle. It sounded a bit like a songbird.

Standing straighter at the praise, Marinette puffed out her chest with pride. "The only way I can do things is to overdo them." Though, deflating slightly, she admitted, "But I didn't know what kind of fabric demons like."

"We're like humans," he answered simply, going up to the pile to feel one of the blankets. "We don't have one kind we like. We're all different."

Given what she'd known of him so far, that made sense. She had tried to research demon preferences but came up empty, so the obvious conclusion was that no one kept track because it wasn't consistent.

Though, she supposed she might also be giving the authors too much credit.

When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Luka had already sat down on her comfy setup, his tail shifting behind him as he searched for the best place to lie down. He'd taken to it so easily that it was hard not to feel confident in it.

So much so that it looked even more inviting now than it was before he'd arrived.

Stepping up to the cuddle spot herself, she waited for Luka to make room before sitting down next to him. Everything had been freshly washed just before she'd set them out, so there was still the pleasant lingering scent of the dryer sheets as her weight sank into the cushions. She breathed it in, leaning back and pressing her hands into the fluff of the blankets.

"Do you want to lay on me?" Luka asked suddenly.

"What?" Marinette looked over, seeing him laying down comfortably on his back. The cushioning must've been enough that his tail wasn't bothered by it. "Ah."

She hadn't thought that far. The mission was getting a cuddle buddy, but...

"I've never cuddled anyone before," she admitted.

"Me neither," he replied, whether for reassurance or genuine honesty. Maybe both?

Regardless, he outstretched an arm to her in a silent offer for them to learn together. Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity and she nodded.

Laying down against his arm and bringing herself close, the arm soon wrapped around her. She was pulled to his chest, her hands grasping at his shirt before she realized that the cuddling could be mutual. Slowly, piecing the act together like a puzzle, she slipped her arms around him, her head against his chest as she hugged him. Neither of them may have known what they were doing, but she did feel comfortable.

She was surprised to feel the fast heartbeat in his chest, though there wasn't anything in her research that suggested it was abnormal. Maybe demons just had faster heartbeats?

"You're warm," she also noted, feeling the heat encompass her from both Luka and the blankets she'd laid out.

"Demons can change how cool or warm their body is when they need to," he explained, "just in case we get summoned somewhere really hot or cold."

She hummed as she processed that. Demons really seemed to have adapted well to their roles. "And... you said that you could use magic for almost anything? What can't you use it for?"

He needed a moment to think of how to answer her and she allowed it. In the meantime, she focused on the fabric of his shirt in her fingers - only limited by the bandages preventing the skin underneath from touching him - and his claws on her back, able to be felt but never getting caught in anything.

"We can't make people fall in love," Luka finally said. The tone implied there were more examples and he was merely giving one of the bigger ones. "We can help, but the rest is up to them."

Intrigued, she lifted her head to look at him. "Help how?"

"We can make a moment for whoever summons us and the person they want to fall for them; something that makes them curious and want to know more about them." With a grin, he added, "Like this."

She blinked at him. "This?"

"You summoned a demon. Most people do that for something extreme, but you wanted someone to cuddle. You could've gotten another human to do it instead, so of course I'm curious about you."

Curious? Marinette knew that she could act a little unorthodox, so it wasn't uncommon for her to be called odd or strange. By the time she'd become an adult, she'd accepted that part of herself despite being aware that people would still think of her as clumsy, rambling, bizarre Marinette. She could be overwhelming to others, causing difficulties making new friends, but she was content where she was.

Yet, this was the first moment she'd heard anyone be curious rather than weirded out. Was it because he was a demon? Were demons already different enough by default that they wouldn't consider her strange? Or was it just Luka?

Ducking her head, she toyed with the fabric at the back of Luka's shirt. He didn't even seem to mind. "My friends would've made fun of me if I tried to ask any of them, and finding another—uh, human to help was too awkward." She tried to shrug from her shrug-resistant position and felt that he got the gist of the gesture. "I thought that if I asked a demon, it'd be more in my control? And we probably wouldn't see each other again anyway if they rejected me."

"You wanted someone that badly," Luka mumbled, though strangely it sounded like he was talking more to himself than her. Was he sympathizing?

"Almost all of my friends are dating," she elaborated, as if she had to excuse her actions, "so I've seen them cuddling all the time. They always look so happy, and..." She sighed. "I wanted to know what it was like? I did have a boyfriend, but we never got that far before we broke up."

He might've been curious on the details of this 'boyfriend', but he didn't pry. "And? What do you think?"

What did she think? Marinette shifted, pulling herself further against him and focusing on the sensations: the fluff of the blanket against her skin, the body heat warming her, the bandages around her fingers that weren't too tight nor too loose, and the soft shirt under her palms. Squeezing him tighter, she turned her head and pressed her face against his rapid heartbeat to take in his scent. He didn't just feel warm, he smelled warm somehow, like how pastries smell just as they're being baked. That combined with the lingering scent of vanilla made her think of s'mores made over a fire.

"It's really nice. I've never been this relaxed before," she admitted, letting out a little noise of content when his arms squeezed her in return. "Definitely worth a soul."

Luka stiffened and she felt his chest suddenly rumble with a chuckle. She peered up at him, confused.

"I'm not taking your soul, Marinette," he told her. "Demons don't always ask for a soul as payment."

That solved the whole quarter or half of a soul thing she'd been wondering about, at least. "Then what do you want?"

He didn't answer for a moment, staring deeply into her eyes like he was searching for something, all while his hand slowly went up her back, a thumb roaming across one of her shoulder blades. She shuddered in delight.

"What if we do this again?" he eventually asked.

"This?" she repeated, though it hit her a second later. "You mean... cuddling? But that's what I asked you for?"

"And now I'm asking you back."

Blushing, she could only blurt out, "But why?"

He reminded her, "I already told you. I'm curious about you, so I want to do this more, if you'll let me."

He said it like it was really that simple. Marinette had only summoned him there with the intent of getting to feel what it was like to cuddle someone - to be held in someone's arms and hold them back - just once, but now he was offering to do it again, and maybe even more than that?

The answer was obvious, though she did pout and asked bluntly, "Do I have to draw that summoning circle every time?"

The lights were still on, his eyes still had a subtle glow to them, yet his grin was the brightest in the room. "No. Here, get up for a second."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, the two pulling away from each other to sit up. Given the slow speed at which he released her, she wondered if he was just as reluctant as her despite whatever plan he was brewing.

Hunching over and tilting his head down just slightly, Luka instructed, "Put your hands around my horns."

"Wh—is that really okay?"

Instead of answering, he reached out, rough skin brushing against soft as he took her hands in his. He guided them upwards, adjusting his grip to curl her fingers around his horns.

Marinette held her breath, keeping still just in case. She could feel the prominent ridges against her skin and, slowly, those ridges flashed blue. Her instinctive reaction was to pull away, but it didn't hurt, only tingled.

"There," he said, pulling back and out of her grasp. "I marked you."

Her mind went directly to, "Like a cat?"

He shook his head, though entertained by the idea. "No. Now you can call me whenever you want."

She stared down at her hands, turning them every which way, but couldn't see anything different. Luka held them in place to stop her, turning her palms so they were facing upwards.

"All you have to do is say my name and want to see me. Then I'll come to you," he explained.

Her hands really didn't look any different, but somehow, it sounded correct. Experimentally, she called out, "Luka?"

She nearly jumped at the reaction, her hands flashing in a set of parallel lines that matched the ridges of his horns.

Luka's own ridges flashed in kind, and he beamed. "Yeah, like that."

He looked so thrilled that it had worked. Marinette thought that maybe it was because he didn't think it would until the actual conditions of the enchantment registered with her: she had to want to see him, meaning that every time she successfully called him to her - and even now when he was already there with her - she was admitting to wanting him near her.

And that, apparently, made him very happy.

She blushed, imagining that her heartrate was similar to the one she'd heard from him just minutes ago. Did she really just make a cuddle pact with a demon?

Was she going to be alright?

[dearmyloveleys]

love and hatred each fill half the heart.

大梦归离 (Fangs of Fortune) 2024

(3/?)

[fma03envy]

Hm having thoughts about Reze