#it feels like panic but also calm and hope but also sad and love but also hurt and aaaaaaa emotions hurt my brain

[runariya]

🥸🪄🤫

Merman JK who placed a courting offer on a rock for a potential mate and human reader takes it. She also goes willingly to the mating cove not knowing JK prepared it for their mating. JK's yandere show at the end when the reader tries to leave him after 🤫

Note: JK wasn't really yandere for reader unti the end. He really just want a mate but because reader took his courting offer, she's it for him.

Thank u soo much for accepting reqs! And u write so fast how do u do that? Your writing is also marvelous!

(yandere+fantasy+smut) part of the prompt game pairing: merman!Jungkook x human!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, S2"L", yandere, merman!AU, dark romance warnings: oblivious reader, fluff, language barrier (merman-language is italic and blue), smut, a little bit of fingering, big cock JK similar to the shape of a whale idk man..., unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, panic, realisation, yandere, lmk if I forgot smth (still hate writing warnings) word count: 3.375

a/n: aaaah thanks a lot for your lovely words anony! I hope it turned out just as you imagined it 💕

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The ocean is beautiful. 

You remember a film once, where the male lead whispered that the moon is beautiful as a stand-in for "I love you," but for you, it's always been the ocean. The sea is your love. The scent of briny air, the soothing rhythm of waves unfurling endlessly against the shore, the gentle nibbling of curious fish as they dart around you in the cool, embracing water—all of it anchors you, providing solace in moments of sadness or joy alike. It's what love feels like, or at least what love should feel like, wrapping itself around your soul, calming yet oh so profound.

You always marvel at the depths of the sea that stretch out before you, boundless and mysterious, and yet infinitely captivating. Sometimes, in those quiet moments when the world recedes and you find yourself alone, you long not just to stand as an admirer of its splendour, but to be one with this vast and enigmatic force of nature. 

And so, as you walk along the shoreline, as you do almost every day, your bare feet sinking into the warmth of the sand, you're taken aback when you stumble upon a bracelet resting on the stone where you so often sit to gaze at the waves. It appears pristine, otherworldly, with pearls and shells glistening in violet hues beneath the afternoon sun, a beauty far too rare to be discarded by chance on a lonely shore like this.

Your fingers trace its entchanting form, marvelling at the craftsmanship—the smoothness, the intricacy, though curiously lacking any engraving. You glance around, noting the empty expanse of the beach, and let your eyes wander across the vast waters; there is no one else here. The bracelet appears to be yours now by some strange serendipity, still, you hesitate for a moment, torn between leaving it behind and taking it with you, a part of you reluctant at the thought of it being swept away by the tide or snatched by a passing gull. In the end, you slip it over your wrist. But it doesn’t fit—too loose, and as you allow your hand to tilt, it falls away.

You frown, perhaps the universe is nudging you to let it go. But then, as you glance at the bracelet, now nestled near your foot, it occurs to you that perhaps it's meant to be worn as an anklet instead. That makes sense, and so, convinced by this thought, you sit down upon your stone and fasten the jewellery around your ankle. It fits perfectly now, shimmering with a quiet elegance in the sunlight. And as you lean back, stretching your arms behind you, allowing the coolness of the water to caress the tips of your toes, you know that it is, without a doubt, a beautiful day, and this small discovery seems to elevate it to something extraordinary.

It’s not long after when, suddenly, something stirs the stillness of the moment. You sit up straight, eyes wide, as not far from you, without so much as a splash or ripple, a human head breaks the surface of the water. Instinctively, you pull your feet close, nerves bristling slightly from the scare. “C-can I help you?”

But the man remains silent, drifting in the water, and as you squint against the sunlight to study him more closely, you spot what seem to be scales glistening on the back of his neck. Your mouth falls open in an instant—this can't be real. Yet here he is, a creature from tales of mermaids and mermen you once dismissed as fanciful myths. And here you are, unable to tear your gaze from his face, dark wet hair framing features both familiar and otherworldly, his violet-tinted eyes locking onto yours that sends a strange thrill through your veins. His smile, too, is not quite human but not wholly alien either, a delicate balance of sharpness and charm you think. 

“Wow,” you breathe, unable to conceal your awe, the astonishment spreading across your face in a grin of its own. He moves then, slowly, swimming a little farther away, and you feel a pang of disappointment, a pout forming unbidden on your lips. But just as quickly, he beckons you to follow, his gesture smooth and inviting as he stays near the shore.

Without a second thought, excitement bubbles up within you and you spring to your feet, hastily dusting the sand from your dress as you jog alongside him, eyes transfixed by the way his body moves through the water with such fluid grace. His tail—large, powerful—propels him effortlessly, and you're left torn between admiring his handsome face and the hypnotic sway of his tail. He makes it look so easy, this gliding through water, while you're struggling to keep pace, panting and stumbling to catch up with him. 

Soon, you find yourself before the entrance of a vast cave, its shadowy maw framed by a path of few smooth, small stones that allows you to cross where he has already vanished beneath the surface. Nothing would have prepared you of what you’re met inside. The cave is nothing short of paradise—sunbeams slanting through narrow crevices, casting a thousand reflections on the water’s surface, turning the space into a living kaleidoscope, while droplets of condensation plop gently from the stone ceiling, adding their own melody to the serene ambiance.

The merman is there, resting near a platform, still smiling that beguiling smile, making you approach slowly, leaving a respectful distance between you as you settle yourself against the cool stone wall. “It’s so beautiful,” you whisper, your voice hushed in the face of such breathtaking beauty.

He regards you warmly, then speaks in a language that dances on your ears like music, though you can’t understand it. Still, there’s an unmistakable sense of warmth in his tone. “I hoped you would accept my courting offer.”

You smile, pointing to yourself. “I’m ___,” you say simply, hoping the meaning translates through gesture. 

He nods, understanding the basics of this exchange, replying, “Mate.”

Thinking he’s simply stating that you’re human, you enthusiastically reply, “Yes! ___ mate. And you?” You point towards him right after.

His expression brightens once more. “Jungkook mate,” he responds, nodding firmly. 

It takes you a moment, puzzling over his words, and then the realisation dawns on you—he doesn’t mean ‘human’. He means ‘friend’. Of course! A wave of happiness washes over you at this revelation, more than happy to be friends with him. “Yes! ___ mate, Jungkook mate,” you repeat, beaming.

His eyes glisten even more at your response, and you can’t help but smile back, the sheer magnetism of his presence holding you in its thrall. It’s as if he’s cast a spell over you, drawing you into his world, his realm. But the moment is soon broken by the buzz of your phone, vibrating in the pocket of your dress, reminding you of your upcoming dentist appointment. Regretfully, you rise to your feet, an apologetic smile on your lips as you back towards the cave’s entrance.

Jungkook looks visibly disappointed, or so you think, as his brows are furrowing ever so slightly, though his expression is still one you're learning to decipher. 

“I have to go,” you say softly, “but I promise I’ll be back tomorrow.” You gesture as you speak, hoping he might understand. “___ mate, Jungkook mate. Tomorrow, sun down, sun up, I here.” You gesture dramatically to emphasise your words, and to your relief, his features soften, his nod of understanding clear.

With one last glance at him, you turn and make your way back out into the light, already counting down the hours until you return.

🌊

And so, seven days drift by, each one seeing you return to the cave, where Jungkook awaits with that silent patience of his, the two of you growing ever closer, your understanding of him deepening with each shared glance, each exchange of words. With every moment together, the awkwardness ebbs away, replaced by a gentle ease, as if you’re learning to interpret the language of his quiet gestures, his lilting voice that carries meanings beyond the reach of words.

It’s on the eighth day, after you’ve spent enough time together to almost convince yourself that you can read the currents of his mind, that something shifts between you. The anklet around your ankle, the one you now realise must have been crafted by Jungkook’s own hands, seems to have inspired you to gift him something as well.

“Kook?” you call softly as you step into the cool shade of the cave once more, a bracelet for Jungkook clutched in your palm, something you’ve carefully chosen, a small token of gratitude for all he has given you. You shouldn’t have called out, though, for there he is, as always, waiting by the platform, his strong arms draped languidly over the stone, his face splitting into a wide smile the moment he sees you.

“Mate!” he calls in return, the word making your heart twist in a way you shouldn’t feel. He means friend—but the taste of it is bittersweet now, the small seed of longing inside you growing with each encounter, but you push it aside.

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce quietly, lowering yourself to sit before him, close enough to feel the cool mist of water from his skin as his hand instinctively reaches out, resting lightly on your legs, as if needing to sate his curiosity for your strange, warm softness. You take his hand in yours—his skin wet, cold beneath your touch—and fasten the bracelet around his wrist. It’s titanium, chosen for its strength, its resilience against the sea, knowing it will last, just as you hope this tenuous connection between you will endure. “A courtship gift,” you murmur, the words familiar now—he used them himself every time he pointed at your anklet.

Jungkook stares at the bracelet, turning his arm this way and that, admiring it from every angle, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He whispers the word that has become his tether to you: “Mate.” His voice is soft, reverent, as if the gift means far more to him than you had imagined, and his gaze, filled with such raw affection, causes a flush to rise to your cheeks, a smile tugging at your lips at his sentimental reaction. 

But then, before you can make sense of it, his hands cup your face with a suddenness that takes your breath away, and his lips press forcefully against yours. The kiss is so unexpected, his pull so swift and sure that you lose your balance, your arms flailing before they instinctively loop around his neck as you tumble into the water.

He holds you effortlessly, keeping you afloat as his lips claim yours again and again, his cold mouth moving over yours with an intensity that blinds you to the cold water. You had wondered, more times than you’d care to admit, what he might taste like—whether the salt of the sea would be a part of him—but reality is sweeter than fantasy. There is a hint of salt, yes, but beneath it lies something sweet, something intoxicating, that makes you crave more as his tongue slides against yours.

His hands roam your body, sliding over the wet fabric of your dress, exploring with a curiosity that borders on obsession. His fingers press into your skin, kneading the softness of your breasts as his breath grows heavier, more laboured. You can’t help but let your hands wander in turn, feeling the smoothness of his scales beneath your fingertips, the hard muscles that ripple beneath his skin, as solid as the stone walls of the cave.

When you finally pull away, gasping for much needed air, your eyes meet his, and up close, they are even more mesmerising—violet speckled with flecks of black and blue, like galaxies swirling in the depths of his irises, and you reach up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss, and you imagine your own must look much the same.

Your peaceful moment is shattered when something thick and solid brushes against your thigh beneath the water, and with a startled shriek, you push away from Jungkook, not sure if your heart starts racing or stops altogether. But his arms tighten around you, keeping you from sinking beneath the surface, his expression shifting to one of sadness as he realises he’s frightened you. The panic ebbs as quickly as it came, replaced by a curious calm as you peer down into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had startled you.

“Oh,” you exclaim softly, your surprise evident as you realise it wasn’t some sea creature that had brushed against you, but rather, something that extends from Jungkook’s tail. And again, you’re not sure if your heart starts racing or stops, when you realise what it is. “Oh!”

His arousal is unmistakable—large, thick, and utterly unlike anything you’ve ever seen, more like that of a whale than a man, and you swallow dryly as you force your gaze back to Jungkook’s face. He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with an intensity that sets your skin aflame despite the chill of the water and his skin.

A deep heat begins to pool within you, your body responding to the sight of him, the proof of his desire for you undeniable. It would be a lie to say you aren’t tempted—to say he doesn’t stir something similar within you, something that makes your skin prickle and lungs work overtime. The wetness gathering between your thighs is evidence enough of that.

“Are you sure?” you murmur, your voice still echoing in the cave, your gaze searching his as if hoping he’ll understand the question without needing words. And perhaps he does, for his eyes darken with something unmistakable—an answer, a promise—before he nods, pulling you closer once more.

His lips find yours again, kissing you with a hunger that speaks of deep, aching need, his teeth grazing your skin, his rough tongue lapping at your lips, your neck, as though he can never get enough of your taste. You lose yourself to it, the world melting to nothing but the feel of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body, the heat of his desire coursing through you like a you imagined devotion would feel like.

You help him rid yourself of the soaked fabric of your underwear, Jungkook’s hands exploring your thighs with barely concealed curiosity before his fingers find the sensitive skin of your cunt, teasing your clit until soft moans escape your lips, your grip on his shoulders tightening without much thought.

But you pull his hand away, knowing the water will only wash away your arousal, leaving you wanting. Instead, you reach for him, your small hand wrapping around the thickness of his cock, marvelling at its size, the way it seems to pulse beneath your touch. Jungkook groans silently, his eyes never leaving yours as you guide him towards your entrance, the size of him daunting but the ache of desire overpowering any trepidation.

You take him slowly, gasping as he stretches you wide, the burn too much at first but quickly giving way to a deep, overwhelming pleasure as he begins to move inside you with the little bit of his cock that fits, each thrust sending sparks flying behind your pupils. He holds your legs tight, forcing your thighs together around the remaining part, the friction equally becoming almost unbearable for you, his cock filling you to the brim, and before you even realise it, you’re crying out his name, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, his movements relentless as he fucks you with abandon, whispering words in his strange tongue, words you don’t understand but that seem to echo with a raw, untamed passion that makes your heart race all the faster, imagining he’s praising you, thinking that you’re such a good girl for him. 

You lose track of time, of the number of times he makes you cum on his cock, your mind a haze of bliss, his name the only thing you can remember to say. Each time you think you’ve reached your limit, he pulls another climax from you, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you with devastating accuracy, his low groans and moans clouding your mind even more.

Finally, you feel him tense, his body shuddering against yours as he buries himself as deep inside you as your physique allows, his release coming in thick, powerful pulses that fill you to the point of bursting. The sensation sends you spiralling into yet another orgasm, your body trembling uncontrollably, your mouth parting without a sound, as pleasure consumes you yet again.

When at last Jungkook pulls back, placing you gently on the platform, you collapse against the cool stone, utterly spent. It takes all your effort for the world to slowly come back into focus—the soft hues of the cave ceiling, the gentle lapping of the waves, the quiet drip of water from the ceiling above. 

You lie there, breathless, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, like the restless waves outside the cave, wondering what you’ve just done, what it means, and whether you’ll ever be able to return to the life you knew before.

But your mind can’t settle.

The realisation of your stupidity and naivety crashes over you in waves—the impossible reality of sharing yourself with a creature of myth, the deep-seated regret that gnaws at you like a tide pulling at the shore, whispering that this was a mistake, that you should have known better, should have resisted. 

You find yourself wondering absurdities—whether a morning-after pill could possibly work against the seed of a merman, or if his essence would simply fade away inside you like mist, dissolving with the salt water, leaving no trace behind. Your body feels foreign, strange now, as if you've been altered by his touch, by the unearthly pleasure that coursed through you, and an instinctive panic rises, setting your nerves alight, urging you to flee. 

Your limbs still tremble from all the orgasms as you push yourself upright, hands unsteady as you try to find your balance, desperate to extricate yourself from the surreal haze that envelops you. Jungkook is still there, watching you with those mesmerising eyes, his fingers gently tracing aimless patterns along your exposed thigh, as if nothing in the world could be more captivating than the feel of your skin beneath his touch. His gaze is so tender, so filled with awe, that it only deepens the ache of guilt growing in your chest, highlighting the dangerous ground you’ve ventured onto. 

You attempt to pull away, to create some distance between yourself and the fantasy you’ve allowed to take root, knowing full well that this is a world you cannot inhabit, a dream too fragile to hold in the blinding light of reality. But Jungkook’s hand is faster, catching your ankle in an instant, right above the anklet he gifted you—an innocent token that now feels like a binding chain, keeping you bound to something far beyond your understanding. 

You struggle, trying to shake him off, beginning to feel more panicked than you ever been in your life, but his strength is undeniable, your efforts feeble against the power of his hold, of the very being he is. 

And then, he speaks—softly, with that strange lilt of his voice, but this time, not in his tongue. The word that falls from his lips is yours. The sound of it stops your breath, chills not only the air around you but you too. And in that moment, you realise what you should have known from the beginning, what you should have seen the moment you clasped that anklet around your leg—you’ve crossed a threshold that cannot be uncrossed, a line that cannot be erased. 

“Mate.” 

[bowieandqueen11]

Sanji With A Clingy Reader Would Include...

Request: OH BABY telling about one piece is like unlocking a whole second heart of mine i have fully for that anime and manga and live action. and so, if you ever decided of course, you writing something similar to something you did on marvel once and sanji with reader that has no personal space and is touchy would be amazing. but also... kissing zoro is great to, if you ever decided? anyway! HOPE YOU LOVE IT (one piece i mean), and if not ignore me UwU

Ooh yess babes this is so SWEET!! :3 I LOVED IT omg hello to my latest obsession not me ordering the first collection of the manga

This was really sweet and fun to do, but I did stay up all night writing it so all comments are much appreciated!

Warning: slightly spicy, some mentions of fighting!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fanpageknight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look at this man. Seriously, look at this man with his little bottom lip bite and eyes like the sun shines heavily out of them and tell me he would be anything less than absolutely madly, heart wrenchingly, soul crushingly enthralled with a clingy reader??? That's right you can't take the l on this one.

It all started that day when the three of you ended up shipwrecked on that sad sack excuse of a rock. When you and Sanji huddled on one side of the forsaken isle to stay away from the terrifying Pirate Zeff. His hands had shaken as he drew them up to his chest, but he mustered the nerves to string open the sack Zeff had thrown at his feet. Once he had counted out the cans, he offered all the food to you.

He wanted you to stay alive far more than himself. Ever since you had landed on his ship he had been smitten, and his weary heart would beat its last under this smothering sun as long as you would live on for the both of them.

To keep him calm: to stop his gasping, tortured heaves as he tried his best not to writhe in panic at the thought of never stepping back on safe land again, you would spent most of those 85 days sitting over the cragged edges. Sanji couldn't tear his eyes away from peering down at the gushing shards of stone below that seemed to rip up in tides and tear for his swinging feet; to try and distract him from sniffling any longer, your hand would tentatively creep over the rock until it landed flatly, and unceremoniously on top of his own. His fingers flexed beneath your own, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he folded them upwards, giving your hand a shaking squeeze: a dutiful promise, a flitting confession of love, that you just happened not to feel in your ruminations of the circumstances.

In fact, he asked you that night, in an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful voice, if you would keep his nightmares away by holding him like his mother used to. You felt terrible: you were so stunned that for a moment you stood with the last piece of mouldy bread you had in your hand in shocked silence. Poor Sanji thought you were about to reject him outright: throw what little he had left of his heart - that he had so carefully lifted out and placed in his hands to offer to you, only to have it thrown back to his feet in the usual ridicule he got for his love. His bottom lip began to tremble, until you nearly knocked him onto his bottom with how fast you dropped everything and flew over to lock him in a tight hug, not minding the fact that your shoulder was growing wetter and wetter despite the brewing rain each time Sanji buried his snivelling head against it.

So you would let him rest safely in the bracket of your arms: his left cheek resting in the warm stretch between your collar bone and your neck, his right hand draped leisurely around your waist as you told him stories of pirates and treasure: of the Deep Blue and tropical fish that shone like bursts of fragmented starlight every time their fins graced the water. Although he would groan any time you removed your hand from where you were stroking the wet strands of his hair back from his forehead, it was quickly replaced with wonderment as you would point up at a cluster of stars and whisper excitedly: 'look, there's some now!'

He had never been afraid of nights ever since that moment, not when the stars were still out and he could trace with the butt of his cigarettes the fish you had drawn specially for him in the skies. It was like a secret message: a lover's reminder that he was never alone. That you were always with him. That your beauty - your light, it shone everywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the first time he had kissed you, two forgotten children lost underneath the dripping crevice of your little hideaway. As your belly began to rise and fall underneath his elbow, and he believed you had exhausted yourself out after trying to make him feel better, he dared to dart up from your shoulder and press his lips firmly against your cheek. It had been quick, almost gliding past time like a dolphin leaping up out of the water, but it had meant so much to him that he curled up into a ball in your side and flushed a bright cerise, having to shove his fist into his mouth to stop his manic giggling from waking you up.

But you weren't asleep, and as Sanji settled back into your neck with a smile bright enough to rival the shine of buttercup petals, you swore as he began to drift off in the first peaceful dream he had had in years that one day you would return the favour, but in full.

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, to the point where Zeff became so distracted by your antics that he often tried to separate the two of you by making you work the floor and Sanji either in the kitchens, or off fishing at the docks. Ten seconds later though, he'd be kicking through the kitchen doors again to find you leaning on the kitchen counter next to an eager faced Sanji, whose to busy to register Zeff's shouting. Instead he places the spoon to your lips, having spent half of lunch service prep cooking you a brand new recipe he had spent the whole night creating out of a medley of your favourite foods. He subconsciously licks his bottom lip, the tension in the room felt by the other chefs who try to carry on washing pans and cutting vegetables enough to put everyone on edge as Sanji refused to look anywhere but your lips. Holding his hand under your chin, his dipped eyes were broken by a sudden grin as a loud 'mmhhh' left your mouth and you chewed in sweet bliss.

Still ignoring Zeff's increasingly erratic rant, as Sanji goes to start cleaning up his pan you slide down to stand behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around your back and jutting your chin into his shoulder blade like a baby koala. You can tell he's laughing silently by the way his shoulders shake against you, but all he does is pull up your hand from his belly button to press sweet, dainty kisses up and down the lengths of your fingers, before dropping it down to press your palm flatly against his heart.

'I think that might be your greatest dish yet, buttercup!'

'From you, that means everything my precious heart.'

'Why do you call me that?', you murmur, refusing to lift your lips from his shirt.

'Well my sweet love, why do you call me buttercup? I mean, I always know I smell of butter and the likes-'.

He's distracted by your snort against the side of his neck, but the two of you are too love-strikingly embarrassed to say anything again. Even if neither of you could see the warm peach rushing up both your cheeks, Zeff could. He could also hear the padding thuds of Sanji's heart as he gripped his fingers that almost imperceptibly bit tighter around your hand, and he found himself sighing at how oblivious you two idiots were.

Sanji is definitely just as clingy as you, if not more so. You've definitely met your match in this man. I mean, any time you're out on the floor, handing out bread to tables and scanning the room to check if there were any patrons you may have to throw out by the scuff of their collars later, his eyes are trained on yours. He leans against the banisters, not even trying to remotely hide how obviously he's tracing your path with a dumbstruck, lit up smile. If you're in the kitchens, desperately trying to bite your tongue and not tear Zeff a new one as he chops his hands together and rushes you to plate up? He's sliding up to your side in an instant, throwing scathing looks at the man while trying to help you spoon thyme onto your bass, nuzzling the side of his head into yours encouragingly. If you have any free time at all? Sanji is fast on your heels, darting after you like someone's firing shots at his dress shoes, as if you have his heart tied to a string on your wrist as he seeks out whatever nook you're going to relax in. It doesn't matter if you're at the bar, watching the docks, or trying to hide from Zeff in one of the cupboards in the pantry: Sanji is squatting down and grunting as he shoves himself in right next to you. He sits criss cross, only satisfied when at least one of his knees is resting heavily over yours, and he has full access to watch what you're reading over the side of your neck.

He only fully settles, though, if you touch him in some way. He genuinely will begin mewling once your hand reaches over to brush your knuckles over his jawline, or your hand finds itself guided to bunch itself up in his hair. One time, he guided your hand into his lap, and you began to absentmindedly stroke your pointer finger along the seam of his inner thigh. Thank goodness you had your head buried in a book one of the pirate crews had come to swap some dried meats with you for, because it took every muscle in Sanji's body twitching: every finger clenching and unclenching into his knee until he drew blood not to knock you flat right there and then and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

He gets a MASSIVE nosebleed - so gushing, in fact, that he tries to reassure you he's fine as you hold him by the elbows and lead his tilted back head and pinched nose down to Zeff for some help.

It becomes a very major recurring issue every time he looks at you. He makes sure to carry a handkerchief in his breast pocket from then on.

God, if he didn't love you more than anything in all the seas. If you weren't the only one that he let see past his charming nature: if you weren't the only person left in his life that truly could recognise the young boy left in his eyes, in his gait, in his smile, in his dreams. That little kid on that great big ship, the one who had found you stowed away behind one of the barrels of rum, and instead of calling for the crew had taken your trembling hand and led you into the kitchens, introducing you as his newest sous chef. That same kid, who stood beside you and held your hand so gently, so heartbreakingly gently under his as he guided you through lessons of chopping onions and sautéing garlic, breaking out into long strings of rushed, praising French every time you got it right. The same one, who would frown as if he were the one who had been hurt any time you burnt your hands or sliced your fingers. Who would unravel the knot at the back of his apron, and tug it over his head to carefully place it over yours.

'This always brings me luck', he would say as his fingers daintily tucked the strings underneath your shirt collar. 'But I don't need it anymore, because you've brought me all the luck and happiness a man could ever dream of, my cherie.'

The same kid who would tip toe out of his bed to sneak down to your hammock, crawling in and burying himself underneath your blankets where you slept in the brig, telling you fantastical stories about his mother until you fell sound asleep. He would watch you from where he lay on his side, hands folded by your head, as if you had hung every star in the wide skies. He would brush his fingers over the edge of your cheek and curl up beside you, wishing that every minute of every day of the rest of his life could be spent with you.

Yeah, smitten wasn't enough to cover it. Only destiny could be raw enough to draw the two of you to each other, Sanji always thought.

As teenagers, you would end every shift outside, sitting on the wonky boards of one of the jutted docks. Just sitting side by side, as you always wanted to be, pretending you weren't playing a game of chicken as the two of you teased and pressed and glanced your fingers over each other's, leaning back and looking up at the stars. Sanji always appreciated the better chance it gave him: shrouded in naught by wisps of moonlight and the rare flashing neon of ship string lights, to take you in as much as he could. You didn't mind the fact that he spent the whole time staring over at you. In fact, if you hadn't been so lovestruck, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that always seemed to pour out of his eyes and beam only on you. It always felt like warm sunlight, sitting next to him, and so you finally dared a chance at grabbing his fingers and intertwining them between your own, pretending it was because of the sea chill spraying a fine mist over your legs.

Again, the squeeze he gave your hand was almost, almost imperceptible, but you felt it this time. And you could feel the look of enduring devotion he pierced into your skin, a warm tingle washing like a spring tide through your tired body.

He always knew. He always knew that if he had stayed on that rock, he would have been content to. Happy, even. Because he would have been with you.

'I love you', he said without words. He gave your hand another squeeze. 'I'm going to love you forever. No matter how many lifetimes. No matter who I am. I'm always going to find you, and I'm always going to love you.'

His voice nearly made you jump, surprising you at how it started with his usual buttery smoothness, before cracking with a thick gulp as his words trailed of. 'Never leave without me.'

'I promise, as long as you don't leave without me.'

He shakes his head. 'You never leave me. Not even for a moment.'

Sometimes, when the two of you are older, he still comes stealing into your room at night, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his lips wobble into a frightened frown. Turns out, as he draws the covers back and comes reaching in for you, he had another nightmare that pirates had come to steal you away from him again. With an aching sigh for how stricken he looked, how desolate, you let him claw at your shirt and bury his head into the side of your neck until the rest of the world melted away.

He kissed you again, that night. When the feel of his legs strewn familiarly between your own began to burn against his skin, and the weight of hand perched over his thrumming heart became too heavy to bear in secret. With nothing but the light streaming like shards of pearly stars through the porthole to betray a moment so special, so longed for, Sanji let his eyelashes flutter close as he slowly... slowly pressed his lips against your cheek again.

This time, his eyes widened in shock as the feeling of your hand gripping at his jaw and turning his face straight on to your own. Before he can even open his mouth in confusion, the sweet pressure of your lips pressed against his top one. For a moment, Sanji doesn't move an inch: doesn't even breath, not even processing that the thing he’s spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he found you on that boat was actually happening, right here right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own.

When he finally pulls away, he lets out a loud 'OW' as he pinches his arm.

'What did you do that for!?'

'I had to double check this wasn't a dream, my sweets!'

And then he's on you again, like a ravished man gasping for air. God, he wasn't sure if soulmates were real, but when your top lip pulled down against his, and he could feel the thud of your heart synch against his own beneath the tips of his fingers, if he didn't know that he was yours.

He stays in your room a lot more often after that, using it as an excuse for you to help him button up his shirt during sleepy mornings, smiling at the feel of your fingers as they knocked against the muscles of his chest. It was also his favourite part of the day - the good morning kiss the two of you shared before you raced down to be at your shifts before Zeff decided to knock your heads together.

One time you forgot to give him one, too distracted by one of the sous chefs busting into your room with a bloodied nose and a chipped front tooth, whistling through the gap as he begged you to come down to the main foyer and help him break out a fist fight that had started between two gangs of rival pirates. The pout on Sanji's face that day was enough to make even the most bounty-heavy pirate's knees tremble. Every other chef steered way clear of his station, watching the arch of his back and the jaw in his muscle jump as he busied himself by frying his steak of tuna, so gutted at the loss of just one kiss. Not angry, no: just grief stricken, because this man seriously just adores you that much.

When you finally get your lunch break, the first thing you do is throw your napkin down on the kitchen ground and grab Sanji by his suit collar, enjoying the surprise tilt of his head as he drops his spoon onto his serving tray and allows you to lead his feet backwards to the fire exit. As soon as he's outside, you slam him gently against the wooden beams of the Baratie restaurant, and kissed him silly to make up for it. His look of trusting confusion suddenly melt into jumping heart eyes when your knee slides up between his thighs to try and pin him in place. His breathing comes out in harsh, shallow gasps between ferocious kisses, and you have to press him back against the wall every time he comes arching forward to follow your head for even more kisses. No, this was about you making him feel good. And by goodness, as your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and tentatively ran over his front teeth, if he wasn't two seconds away from falling to his knees right there and then.

When you let him go, he slides down the wall like putty until he's sitting with legs stretched out and both his suit and hair a ruffled mess. He's literally never been more deliriously happy in his whole life.

Your favourite time of the day is when the restaurant closes, and the two of you finally have the kitchens to yourselves. Once you've tossed your aprons back onto the rack with a tired sigh, the only thing that can cheer you up is the sound of Sanji kicking his chair back with the toe of his shoe, and the sight of him beckoning you over to him with that tilted head and pearly beam of his. Mmh, how safe you feel, how loved as you collapse down to sit on his knees, and he tucks you in between the brackets of his arms in a vice so tight it could match any Marine knot.

You take one of his hands off the pen he was holding, turning his palm round to face you so you could fiddle with the rings he was wearing. You draw one up, curling his finger before your eyes, before slotting one off and sliding it onto your own ring finger. It was the one his father had given him: one he so loathed to wear, and yet felt guilt bore down too heavily on his conscious to ever take it off. You turned the one on top of it, one you know Zeff had given him after his first day working at the Baratie, and you smiled at the memory.

'You know', you start, still fiddling with his hand, feeling him shift his thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss on the pointer finger you were currently grasping onto. 'I may just have to keep this one.'

'Oh yeah?', he says dreamily, and you could feel his grin growing as he hid his burning face in the nape of your neck. 'Don't worry sweetheart. One day, once I find the perfect one, I'll give you a ring of your own.'

The two of you sneak out and share cigarettes out the back door a lot, where Sanji steps forward and kisses you like a man possessed every time you pinch the stub from out of his mouth and draw it along your bottom lip teasingly. When you try to get him to go back in, he just wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around to stop you from leaving him alone. Laughing, you try to shove him off, swatting at the hands that form a tight clasp over your belly button, until his large fingers finally slide down to hold your waist. You glance behind you, smirking at the way his eyes are tightly shut in euphoria as ducks down, chest nearly enveloping in his desperation to reach your face again. His kisses become sloppier: smoke stained as they leave wet trails up your jaw, before he finally gives in and tries to make you laugh one last time by nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

Whenever he has a fight with Zeff, you have to hold him afterwards. The feel of your fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck, or rubbing soothing circles into the sore muscles of his shoulders stops the furious darts of air from flaring his nostrils almost immediately.

Man has blaring heart eyes 100% whenever he's in a fight with rowdy customers, and you get to kick the flashy knife out of the last one's hand before the pirate could launch straight for Sanji's neck. He tilts his head at you with those amazed eyes, a gentle smile growing almost shyly on his face like a secret wink, before he throws his now empty plate at the pirate trying to sneak up behind your back. The crash echoes out through the booth area, a cry so furious: so full of rage that anyone would try and dare hurt you, that it makes all the remaining pirate crews crawl out towards the door on their hands and knees.

Stitching each other up afterwards is a motherfcking mess though, that Zeff straight up just abandons all hope of being able to use his kitchen. With a defeated rub of his pounding temples, he lets the door slam shut on his heel because he just can't deal with the two of you. He'd much rather pick up a brush and start sweeping bits of crushed and splattered asparagus off the floors than have to watch you to battle it out in a stiff competition of who could be more sickeningly, maddingly in love with the other. Between you standing between Sanji's entrapping thighs, closing you in tighter so you could have full access to kiss his bobbing Adam's apple as you use a rag to swipe bits of dry sauce off his neck, and him throwing his head back and whimpering, Zeff was going to go insane. Even worse, as soon as you're finished, Sanji's reaching between your fingers to lick split consomme off your nose.

The two of you are literally insufferable, and if every one apart from Zeff doesn't find it the cutest thing I-

When Luffy comes and wrangles Sanji into joining his crew, the chef's first thought is to be distraught. He seeks you out straight away, nearly breaking some poor fisherman's pole as he tries to hurdle over it and grip onto your shoulders, making you drop the barrel of dried meats you were carrying from Luffy onto the planks and watching Luffy nearly dangle off the edge of his ship to stop it from rolling into the ocean.

'Y/n- I- I can't go!'

'You're hardly scared!'

'I'm not scared of going, I'm terrified of going without you!'

You let him pour his heart out for a moment, before stopping his rambling, near sobbing mess of a sentence by bopping the tip of his nose. You giggle, swiping some hair from his forehead. 'Sanji, Luffy asked me to come first. I promised I wouldn't go without you, and I meant it.'

You manage to unlatch his twitching hand from your left shoulder, and give it an almost imperceptible squeeze. The tears that threatened to fall from his eyes finally cascade down, although he's so relieved that he's smiling through the blurriness. You swipe them away with your free thumb, finally, after all these years, feeling the squeeze of your hand that Sanji gives you back, before he envelops you in a breath taking hug.

'Awww, you guys are so sweet!', Luffy calls out from where he's hanging by his sandal off the railing of his ship. 'But could someone give me a hand before my hat falls into the waves? That would not be very cool.'

The first thing the two of you do once you're on The Going Merry is to find your bunk. Sanji isn't very subtle when he kicks your door shut with his heel, and comes scampering towards you like an upended sand crab, pinching for you until he's hefted you up over his shoulder and has unceremoniously landed you in your shared hammock. He's quick to jump in, straddling you as the hammock sways back and forth with the commotion.

He nearly starts crying again when he sees a flash of silver poke out from underneath your neckline; he grazes his hand over the chain, recognising it as his father's ring you had taken months ago. The one he had hated so much. The one you had tried to save him from. A small piece of him. A weight you tried to bear for him. A reminder of how much he was loved.

A confused Zoro, not realising there are new crew members on board, follows the sound of Sanji's voice crooning out how much he adores you, and how he loves you more than every star in the sky, down past the window on your bedroom door. Let's just say, he's not very impressed when he catches sight of the hammock swinging wildly from side to side, and an array of clothes thrown out and discarded in a mess around it.

[tan1shere]

hi bb 🥹

could you do like a deep comfort with Billie? where reader is feeling really anxious and we’re just sitting in the bed and she just helps talk out our troubles and thoughts and just holds us and is physically intimate with us (fluffy) to help us calm down <3

New Chapter

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I saw this tiktok and ugh I just needed to write something like it. Hope you enjoy nonnie ! (Ok so embarrassing update. Sad update LMAO but I forgot Ms billie can't get us pregnant -i just didn't think the idea through- so I'm making it a bit creative and I'm praying you enjoy, just try not to think of it as legitimate and focus on the comfort okur :D) - also sorry if it's short 😔 - also kinda went way off your request :( I hope you like this tho nonnie

Summary: you're always an anxious mess, so once you find out this news you have a complete breakdown.

Warnings: angstyish, comfort, suggestive mentions ??? Anxiety attack, I think that's it !

Masterlist

Uh oh. Was all you thought this morning when you felt ill. You had so much work to get done you did not need to get a cold or the flu ontop of that. Then it hit you on what it could be. Surely not though.

Rewind to a few weeks ago. You and Billie had just had a date night and you wanted to try something new, per her suggestion. Slightly drunk you both decide to use the ejaculating dildo. But last time which wasn't that long ago, you were trying for a baby. You had been finding anonymous donors for a while and she finally found one. You ended up forgetting about it, so you thought nothing could happen because I mean, it was old. Surely nothing could attach to anything right?

Wrong. This feeling was getting worse as the morning went on. Billie was over at Finneas' working on some music related things. So she wasn't there. You had bought pregnancy tests like a month ago when you and Billie came up with the random idea. You were ready then, kind of. Now? Fuck no. Your job had been getting worse and you were honestly thinking of quitting. But you couldn't do that. Even if Billie insisted that it'd be ok, she could pay for the both of you she says. But you said she shouldn't ever have to do that.

Working was your everything even if this job was the putz, you've always loved working. You procrastinate looking at this stupid test. The whole baby thing was merely a thought you guys weren't 100% on it. Atleast you weren't. A human growing inside you, that's so much to think about. Children are a huge responsibility. Your head soon feels light, trying to calm your nerves. "Don't be stupid, this is just nothing. Turn it over." You try and convince yourself. Your hand trembles as you do, fully expecting 'not pregnant'

Wrong again. Your eyes widen tremendously. "Fuck, no no-" You accidentally drop it starting to freak out. Your chest feeling extra heavy. And just in time to freak out more, the front door opens. "Hey baby! I'm back." Baby.. Baby. Ones growing inside you. Your mind races. Shit, fuck. Your freakout continues. Your breathing becoming labored. Trying to calm down as your heart rate picks up. Pointless. "Y/n?" You try desperately to think of something, how on earth do you even explain this to her. 'Oh hey, yeah I'm pregnant.' Not to mention how scared you were.

You didn't want this not now, and you honestly weren't sure if you ever would. That's probably just the anxiety talking, but all you could think about was how scary this all was. Scared wasn't even the right word for how you were feeling. And the pain in your heart was telling you that. She comes into the bathroom looking at you with worry. "What's going on-?" Then she saw your teary eyes, panic flooding her. "Hey, hey. What's up?" She grabs your face gently. "Talk to me, please." But she stops herself realizing you were about to have a panic attack.

"Ok, look at me, I'm right here." Her hands grab yours going to put it on her heart like she always does, but you retract them. Shoving them in your hair. "I cant do this." You say breathing heavy. Still stuck on what you had just read on that stupid stick. It's all you could think about right now. "Do what babe?" That worried her more. What on earth were you talking about. "This can't be real- I have to be dreaming." You then say clutching your beating heart, shaking your head in disbelief. She grabs your face again, never harsh. "What. Is going on." Her thumb swipes your tear stained cheeks.

In attempt to calm you, and it worked for a moment. How do you even tell her. "I-.." You began but tear up again. You couldn't find the words at first, buy you try so hard. "I'm pregnant." You decide to just blur out, ripping of the bandaid, the stuck. Sticky. Bandaid. She gives you a confused look. "Babe-" She doesn't believe you, you wish you didn't believe you. "You do realize-" But you turn around before she could finish, grabbing the test and putting it in her hands. She widens her eyes, seeing it. Even more confused than she was before. Then her brain clicks. "The dildo.." you hear her mumble.

You're pacing, but she grabs you. "Hey, it's ok. I promise this will be all o-" "No. I can't do this, I don't think I ever could. This is so scary and." You stop feeling your chest heave. "Baby." She then says. "Yeah, ones growing in me. A human, I can't do that." She grabs you again, spotting how another attack was coming on, her hands grabbing yours and instinctively putting them on her heart. One of your coping mechanisms. "Look at me, we can do this I promise." You sob. "It was old how'd it even-" She brings you into her. Wrapping her arms around you. "I don't know my love... I don't know." But that's all you needed to stay calm, her warmth was incredibly comforting. Her voice calming every nerve inside you.

Just like it always did. You wrap your arms tightly around her. Burying your head into her chest. Lettung the initial shock die down. Heart going back to normal after awhile. Her hand gently caresses your hair, kissing the crown of it. "I'm here, which will be the main thing and we will get through this together no matter what." Her soothing touches and voice was all you needed. That's what helped in the end. You kinda wished you had done it when she was home, knowing that if she had been, you could've potentially avoided a anxiety attack. Still holding you close as you did so, letting you know that all of this would be ok. "What if I suck, what if it hurts-"

But she stops you, really not wanting you to think about this right now. "Hey, don't worry about that right now ok?" She pulls you back getting you to look at her. "I know you're scared. Fuck, I am too. But we got this." Her finger moves a loose strand out of your face, holding it once again. "You're good with kids, so good with kids. I'm just worried that I won't be good with it." Her head shakes. "You'll be amazing. You've got so much love in you, I know once it's here you'll be the best. Mother. Mark my words." You smile at her brightly. Everything she was saying soothing every worry. You were so glad to have someone like that in your life.

"I love you." She then says, making you cry out of happiness this time.

"I love you more. I'm so glad out of anyone in this world, you're the one I'm doing it with."

"And that's never changing."

Lil note, since I felt like I didn't get your request like you wanted and it's kinda bugging me (a lil mad at myself) I'll do a little blurb of a small idea that I got !

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. II)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

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

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

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

♡ Word count: 13.2k

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

← part I ♡ part III →

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he’s also Minho.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, that’s it.

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

It’s just your stupid hormones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you two broke up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like soulmates?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were probably over-analyzing his words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With me?”

“With you.”

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

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

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

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

And he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a chuckle. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

So that’s what’s going on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you don’t, I think I’ll die too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before they shoot open.

Because holy shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I just zoned out.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re not…?”

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

“I really don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

Minho was the complete opposite.

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

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

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

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

Minho was unquestionably different.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[slasher-fxcker]

Fighting with Michael

Part 2: Making up

A/N: Ugh I am loving all the Michael fics at the moment! Here's part two you guys! enjoy! also feel free to send any requests in.

Warnings: Slight mention of blood but I think thats it

GIF by thepumpkin-queenn

You didn’t know where you were going as you wandered down the street, wiping at the tears that streamed down your face. You were glad it was late and there was no one around to see you in this state. Tonight, had made you question everything, what were you doing with Michael? You had known for a while that you were in love with him, but would you ever really know how he felt? Could Michael even love you back. You felt like a fool, you had heard all the stories about him, about what he’s done.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to think of him like everyone else did, to you he wasn’t a monster. He was your Michael.

Sitting down on a bench you pulled your jacket closer to you as the cool wind blew down the street. You thought about going home, you didn’t know whether Michael would get angry and come looking for you. Deep down you knew that you weren’t talking about the house when you talked about your home, the realisation like a stab in the heart. Michael was your home, you wanted to be wherever he was.

The tears that you didn’t notice had stopped had once against started flowing down your cheeks at the thought. How could you leave Michael when you loved him so much? He found you at a time in your life where nothing seemed to be going right, he seemed like a blessing in disguise, but now you had a choice to make. You decided it was time to head back to the house and face him. Whatever the outcome was you needed something from him, something to show that you were a permanent thing in his life and not just passing entertainment.

You paused in front of the building, getting the courage to walk through the door. You didn’t know how Michael would react to your little outburst, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. The slow creak of the door seemed to rival the sound of your beating heart as you stepped inside. You immediately noticed the knife still sticking out of the wall where you had been stood only an hour or so ago. But soon enough your eyes glanced around seeing the broken furniture littered all around the room. A table split in half, the vase that was on it smashed on the ground, some sort of splintered wood put through one of the walls.

The creak that you heard above was the only thing that broke you out of your shock. You hesitantly made your way up the stair expecting the same mess that you had just seen, but upstairs seemed surprisingly calm, undisturbed. You made your way to the bedroom to find Michael sitting on the edge of your shared bed.

“Michael,” your voice comes out in a whisper, much shakier than you were hoping. He slowly raises his head and you can make out his eyes in the dim room, there’s a sadness there you don’t think you’ve ever seen from the man. You both seemed to watch each other for an eternity, not sure if you were waiting for him to make some sort of outburst or if you just couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to whatever response he would have to your next words. “I love you,” Michael didn’t miss the way your lip slightly quivered as you let out this new revelation.

Michael lowered his head and you froze as the fears you had about him not loving you immediately returned at this action. Before you could panic too much you noticed Michael raise his hand up to his mask and slowly pull it off his head, your heart could’ve beat out of your chest at the anticipation of finally seeing him. You didn’t know which one of you were more surprised by this action, but still you knew better than to react too quickly and possible spook him out of the decision.

Michael kept his head lowered and neither one of you moved for a moment. Soon enough you slowly stepped towards him, the closer you got the more you noticed his white knuckled grip on the mask still clenched tightly in his hand. You lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him taking his hand in your own and getting him to release the mask. You put it down beside you and gently cupped his cheek, every movement was slow and gentle as you tested the waters of what Michael would allow.

You tilted his face to look at you as your voice came out just above a whisper, “I love you Michael.” His eyes darted away and you noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. You couldn’t help but find this situation unbelievable, feared by so many, thought of as a monster, but for you he could be vulnerable, for you he would risk showing some humanity. You brought his attention back to your face as you spoke again, “I love all of you Michael, okay?”

Your thumb stroked his cheek and you watched his eyes close as the tension seemed to slowly leave him and his shoulders dropped from the tense position they held. You knew you shouldn’t push your luck with moments like this, being so rare. But seeing Michael like this, so exposed and vulnerable just for you did things to your heart you had never felt before. You leaned in slowly, giving Michael a chance to pull away if he wished before you gently brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t kiss back but he didn’t push you away, taking this as a sign to continue, you kissed him again. This time with a bit more pressure, it took Michael a minute but he began to reciprocate the kiss. It was a bit too rough, as you expected it to be, and a bit clumsy but the passion that it held made up for any lack of experience. You felt his hand hesitantly grab your waist which surprised you, but you did your best not to make any sudden movements that could spook him.

You placed your hands on his arms and slowly ran them up to his shoulders, he flinched away causing you to look at him questioningly, had you taken it too far? You followed his gaze to where your hand had brushed over a rather large cut on his shoulder. It wasn’t deep but you noticed the blood and dirt all stuck together across the area. You placed another soft kiss to his lips before standing up and grabbing his hand. “Come on, lets get you in the shower.” And for once Michael didn’t argue as he followed you happily to the soon to be very steamy bathroom.

[littlemissclandestine]

Please please please, I wanna know how adler and makarov will comfort us, like hcs, I mean, please? I want sweet thing because am very sad

Howdy Anon! 🤠

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry to hear you're not feeling great and hope you feel better soon. Wasn't sure whether you wanted platonic or romantic or whatnot so I just thought of a mix (kinda) i guess. Sending hugs and hope you enjoy! <33

════════════⋆★⋆════════════

---------------Russell Adler Comfort Hcs-----------------

So as you know, Adler isn't the type of guy to get all emotional (Feelings? What are feelings?) but there's no doubt he'd try to be there for you as best he can

He sometimes does stay silent. Mostly because he's just trying to figure out what to say and how to say it but it doesn't take too long for him to come up with something

He's a great listener for sure. You can rant to him about anything and he'll make you feel heard. Hell, he could probably even relate to it.

Phone calls to check up on you are a given -> "Right. I'm coming over. Promise me you won't do anything stupid in the meantime? Be there within the hour, okay?"

You might find yourself crying on the couch and he'd sit beside you. He'd probably place a hand on your thigh and give it a light squeeze as he asks you what's wrong

If you refuse to answer, he'll play some slow songs and pull you up and off the couch and into his arms to slow dance because he knows it'll earn a smile from you. He'll brush a stray piece of hair out the way and look into your eyes, telling you he loves you.

If you're really having a meltdown and you're in a right state, he'll pull you into his body, resting his chin on top of your head as he whispers words of encouragement to you, not caring that his favourite shirt is drenched. -> "That's it, just let it out. You're gonna be okay. I'm here, alright? Shhh. I'm not going anywhere."

If you're in public having a panic attack, he'd notice the signs. The way your watery eyes dart all over the place being hypervigilant of your surroundings, the way you cling to him a little more than usual, how you aren't responding to him, how your breathing is quick and you feel all clammy. It's his job to know.

He'd take you to the side and shield you as he talks you down. Maybe even take your hand and lead you to the public toilets, making sure it's clear to freshen up and have some space and privacy. -> "You ever heard of box breathing, kid?"

He'll take you back to his car for a long drive and offer you tissues and strike up a conversation, your favourite songs playing in the background while you steady your breathing

He'd hold your hands in his to ground you if need be and rub your arms and thighs as you sob violently, staying quiet, looking away and closing his eyes briefly as he hears you. He can't bare to see you like that.

Russell would also cup your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he asks you to look at him and he calms you down with that low, husky voice of his. -> "You'll get through this, okay? Just like you always do. Only this time, you've got me. So let me take care of you."

He's one to always come up with solutions to your problems, no matter what it is

But he's also brutal. No sugarcoating.

════════════⋆★⋆════════════

-------------Vladimir Makarov Comfort Hcs-------------

I feel like, whereas Adler has more of a way with words and is someone who also gives you comfort through touch, Makarov mostly uses a more materialistic approach but that's not to say he doesn't use touch.

He'd ask if you wanted to go out shopping (retail therapy) where he'd spoil you crazy, letting you buy whatever you want. A dress? Sure. A watch? Of course. A diamond necklace? You got it.

Mak would take you on a helicopter ride for sure during the day or even night, letting you take in the sights.

Makarov may offer to take you out for dinner to your favourite place, getting his goons to make the reservation (or threaten someone to give up their reservation and hold the poor receptionist at gunpoint so you can get a table right there and then).

But don't get me wrong...he'd defo watch your comfort movie with you again, no matter how many times you've watched it. You both just cuddling on the couch with a blanket as he plants kisses on your temple.

He'd crouch down in front of you, rubbing your knees as he asks you what's troubling you. -> "What's got you crying my beloved? What do you need from me?"

He's defo a hand holder so he'll rub your hands and draw circles on your palms and intertwine his fingers with yours. -> "It's okay, my love. Breathe. Just breathe."

This guy loves giving forehead kisses and you can't tell me otherwise. His kisses linger and he rests his forehead against yours for sure as he talks you down.

As you two sleep, he'd be the big spoon, wrapping his arms around your body, keeping you close while he whispers words of praise and how you don't have to worry as he'll always take care of you.

If it's someone who's causing you problems, Makarov goes pew pew and calls it a day.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Note: I was a bit biased when it came to Adler. Whoops. Hope that's okay for now. I might edit this post and add some more when I can. Defo doing a part 2 to Adler's comfort hcs. This was a nice little exercise though. Always a pleasure to write for COD men ;) - Star ☆

[oatmealdoodles]

My messy thoughts on the new episode

(spoilers for Ghostf**kers)

tldr I LOVED this one the animation saw POPING OFF the writing was great, it was well paced, everything. I just wanted to ramble so here i am talking to no one:

Ok right off the bat i had to pause this like 7 times in the first five minutes because the beginning of this is just packed with insane jokes, glass to see they havent forgotten about being a comedy show

It’s so sad to see Blitzo in this state, especially that it’s been over a month. Like look at this guy he is GOING THROUGH IT.

also this was uncalled for how can you do me like this?

ok like my one problem i don’t like this little Scooby-doo reference with old people. I just skipped it and lost nothing, i don’t know why this is here.

the fight between Blitzo and Millie in the vents was also really well done im so glad Millie is putting up boundaries on dealing with everybody elses Bullshit.

I also don’t hear anyone talking about this but Vivinie Williams (Millie’s VA) did so well in this. Like all the voice acting in this show is peak but I’ve only really heard praise for Brendon and Bryce. Their argument here specifically, the fury in her voice was so well done, bravo.

JESUS CHRIST THEY DID NOT NEED TO GO THIS HARD this scene has been stuck in my head for the past two days, Brandon killed it in he recording booth, the animation is also just so VICERAL. Also the way the fire starts from his hands because he blames himself for it, like Viv went too far with this one. That was not ok.

Bitzo’s panic attack was also done so well. Little detail but i love that when Blitzo screams “Don’t touch me!”, Millie respects this and doesnt, instead comforting him with words. They only touch when he’s calm and ready. Love that.

Bro i was NOT expecting a flashback on how Millie met Blitz, also Millies design slays so hard

the way I gasped.

I also didn’t realize how much I needed an episode focusing on these twos friendship until now. Like FINALLY a Millie episode that doesn’t suck!

Little thing i realized but notice how Blitzo doesn’t make a sex joke at this. Blitzo. Not making a provocative joke. Really just goes to show how UNCOMFORTABLE and SCARED he is. I physically recoil every time I see this it’s gross

Those flashback scenes were also just so brutal. Like chaining his horns so he’s FORCED to watch is so psychotic I can’t.

its kinda sad that Blitzo’s whole motivation for doing this is to distract himself from his feelings, when that’s what he’s literally forced to confront by Ronaldo.

Love a possession story. I can really appreciate how Millie does not believe Ronaldo for a second, she knows that Blitzo would never think that of her and she trusts him enough to be confident in it. Nice subversion, you go girl.

This was so needlessly brutal and funny, they really went all out with this one

Yeah I think that’s all I wanted to day, just again i loved this one and it was definantly worth the multiple-month wait. Though my Hyperfixation has mostly died im hopeful that it will resurrect soon. We’ll have to wait and see.

[broshot]

Ooo can you also do Nanami and Sukuna for the near death reader? Loved the ones for Megumi and Gojo!

a/n: hello!! of course I can do that♡ thank you for the request! I'm just a hater when it comes to sukuna so I'll be making him the most ooc there is! (I've never really written stuff for these two so I hope they're not too bad) also I'm so so so sorry for writing this so late, I've had a big writing block recently so this isn't my best writing but I just needed to post this for you all

here's the one with megumi and gojo!

cw/tw: gn!reader, hurt w comfort (angst to fluff), hurt reader, mentions of death + blood, confession in sukuna's part, probs a bit (or very) ooc,

♡♡♡

nanami kento

he wasn't a person who talked about his feelings, and he definitely didn't show them. he was polite and professional, not so polite when he was fighting but that didn't matter. he always had the same blank and bored expression on his face, sometimes it turned into annoyed and angry but he never smiled or looked sad.

until he met you. he fell in love with you instantly, though he tried to convince himself that he definitely wasn't in love. he wanted to share his life with you, both his good and bad days.

you made him smile and laugh, you made him happy. he swears the day he confessed to you was his luckiest and happiest day and he never ever wanted to lose you. he swore he would protect you.

but his promise didn't seem very true anymore. you were sitting against a wall with your head in an uncomfortable position. he rushed over to you and tried to wake you up as you seemed to just be unconscious, probably fainted and nothing worse.

"can you hear me, sweetheart?" he asked, softly lifting your chin up. that's when he noticed the deep cut on your neck. it was bleeding a lot, how did he not notice all the blood before?

"wake up," he said, feeling the panic rush up faster and faster. you need to stay calm, he thought to himself but it wasn't really working.

his hands seemed to work on their own as he softly pressed a piece of cloth onto your wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"what's up? I'm in a tight spot right now." he heard gojo's unusually serious voice on the other side of the phone. when had he called gojo?

"uh, I need help. (name)'s bleeding a lot. could you send someone over?" he couldn't recognize his own voice, it sounded distant and a bit too high to be his.

"I'll be over in a second," was all he heard gojo say before a familiar frame arrived right next to him.

---

you opened your eyes and quickly tried to get up. the fight was all you had in mind, you couldn't waste even a second, you had to be there.

but you were stopped by a huge wave of pain all over your body. your head was hurting and so was your neck, and you were suddenly aware of how sore all of your muscles were. you were laying in a bed, probably in a hospital somewhere. before you could even think about what happened yesterday that got you in this position, you noticed nanami sleeping on the chair next to you.

"honey?" you whispered and to your surprise, he immediately wake up.

"sweetheart. you're alive." he breathed out before rushing over to you. he pulled you close to his chest, softly wrapping his arms around your body.

"yeah, I was-" you started but a sound stopped your words. you heard a quiet sob from him. he was crying.

"I thought I lost you," he sobbed, his voice wobbly and weak.

you didn't say anything. you just hugged him back.

"I don't ever want to lose you, love, never," he continued. "if you die I'll never love anyone again. please don't leave me like that."

"I'll do my best to stay alive for you," you whispered. "I love you.

"I love you too. I'll make sure you're protected next time."

♡♡♡

sukuna

the king of curses shouldn't fear anything, right?

so why was he shaking from fear right now?

"I'm not scared, I'm just angry," he repeated for the nth time in his head. he could never be scared, really. but still, being scared was the only thing that felt acceptable for him right now. he was scared he'd lose you, the love of his life, all because he wasn't careful.

he had been practicing to control his cursed energy in different ways and had accidentally hit you with a huge energy boost. it didn't fully hit you, but it made a deep cut on the right side of your neck. and you were bleeding. you were bleeding a lot.

he stood next to you as you laid on the ground. he couldn't fully process what was happening, but soon enough his knees gave up and he fell down next to you.

curses are able to cry.

he had never cried before this, he never had any reasons to cry before this. but he was fully sobbing while looking down at your body. he could almost see the life bleeding out of you and he couldn't do anything about it.

then he remembered a thing or two.

---

you felt a stinging pain on your neck as you woke up. you groaned and tried to sit up, but you were quickly stopped by a pair of hands.

"sukuna?"

"(name), you're alive," you heard him say.

"yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you asked. he stayed quiet. "sukuna.. what happened?"

he sighed before explaining the situation fully. "I'm really sorry for that, I swear I didn't try to hit you and I didn't do it on purpose, I feel really bad about it and to think that I almost killed the only person I truly love, I'm such a disappointment," he rambled.

you were speechless. the fact that he almost killed you was shocking enough but on top of that he also loved you.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me. I was just.. thinking out loud and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable-" he kept rambling but you cut him off by placing your hand on his cheek. he looked up at you, clearly surprised by your action.

"relax, you didn't make me uncomfortable. and I forgive you for, you know, almost killing me. and I love you too."

"wait what? you.. do you really?" he asked, clearly not believing his ears.

"more than anything."

♡♡♡

this is WAY worse than the last one omg I'm so sorry AAAAAAAA anyways, recommend characters you want me to do this with (if you want to see more characters w this prompt)

you can also recommend other stuff for me to write! :D

masterlist is on my profile but I haven't updated it in a while

[m-musings]

HIII

im actually so excited omg i dont wanna sound mean actually the opposite but you write for a couple of pretty dead fandoms and im just so happy to see new writers for them.

can i request hcs for rotg (either jack frost, or bunnymund, or pitch, whoever you like. maybe the three of them??? idk go nuts show nuts) with a grim reaper reader? thanks! :D

Headcanons: Jack Frost, Pitch Black and E. Aster Bunnymund with Grim Reaper! Reader

A/N: anon I'm dying at go nuts show nuts, that's the funniest shit i've read in a while but anyways yeah, all 3 sounds good to me lmao. also, I wasn't sure if you wanted platonic or romantic so i just kept it on the friendly side, i hope that's okay!

NOTICE (7/10/24) : NO LONGER WRITING FOR ROTG

Word Count: 450 Warnings: mentions of death/ dead people

Jack:

Jack is a bit wary around you at first simply due to the nature of your job.

But once he sees just how gentle and kind you are with the souls you reap, he's back on board with getting to know you.

As he gets more comfortable with you, he'll definitely make fun of you like he does with the other guardians but he does it with love!

Jack will occasionally accompany you when you're reaping a younger soul. His presence seems to calm them down if they begin to panic, even if they sometimes can't see him.

If you ever get a break from reaping, he will invite you to participate in one of his famous snow day snowball fights as a way to forget about the sadness that sometimes comes with the responsibility of being a being of death.

He's still the excitable and reckless Jack Frost but when you're around, he's more mellowed out and - forgive the pun- chill to hang out with.

Pitch:

Pitch is intrigued by you from the start.

While he may control people's fears, it is a rare occasion for him to actually interact with one, let alone one as important as the personification of death itself.

He knows just how powerful a reaper can be so he is always sure to treat you with the respect you deserve.

The one time Pitch tried to convince you to join him against the Guardians, it ended with a scythe pointed at his neck and a stern scolding from you, so he doesn't bring that subject up around you anymore.

Pitch actually enjoys spending time with you though, he feels that your presence is much more tranquil and calm than that of the other spirits he knows.

He can be maniacal and full of himself but deep down he has a strange admiration for you and the job you do.

Bunnymund:

Bunny has known you for a long time and has come to highly regard you as an ally.

You two mesh well together, because without the deaths you take watch of, he wouldn't be able to help bring new bouts of life into the world.

He refuses to see any of the souls you may bring around The Warren though, it makes him kind of squeamish.

He will occasionally help you wrangle up a lost soul or two but it's very uncommon for him to be around during the actual reaping.

Bunnymund and you do spend the most time together just because your roles are so interconnected with one another (Guardians of Life and Death and all that).

All in all, You and Bunny are very close knit and have a great respect for one another.

[dragoncopper]

The Apparition

Summary: You have been feeling a presence for months. You are sure that you are losing your mind. But then the presence makes itself known to you. Your soulmate finally found you. Word Count: 20k (take a moment) Pairing: Female Reader x Noah Sebastian Warnings: Major character death. Lots of talk about death. Smut - oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, fluffy loving sex, fingering. More warnings: This is the first work I have written that I am posting. I really hope someone enjoys it.

The continuation or bonus chapter... here.

The whole story on A03 here.

A/N While this is mostly a fluff piece, there are quite sad moments in the story and lots of crying. This is a work of fiction. There are mentions of Noah's past and as we do not have good information, I filled in the blanks. This is not an accurate depiction of his past.

I used Noah's playlist on Spotify to help me with music choices. These are, however, the songs that I felt fit with the story: Sleep Token - The Apparition (obviously). Sleep Token - Telomeres. Hozier - Work Song.

I have proofread it myself, so there might (for sure) be some errors.

I will post a link to A03 also.

1. You You would not say that you believed in ghosts. Not at all. It made no sense and your brain needed something to make sense for you to accept it. However, lately you have been noticing things, and it has been happening for a while, but you have always made it off as nothing. Surely, you just made a mistake, forgot that you had done it. But it has come to the point where you cannot deny it anymore.

It started with simple things, like you would be certain that you did not leave your pen there on the desk. Sure that you did not open the curtains in your bedroom. Items in cupboards just slightly out of place. These things were so easy to dismiss as nothing. But then you started feeling like someone was in the room with you, a presence – this was not a scary feeling at all, more comforting, like the presence was there for good reasons. You sometimes felt a slight warmth, like a breath near you. Even your pet would look at something that you could not see, never reacting in an alarming way but just looking.

Intellectually, you knew it did not make sense. You also knew that if you were really feeling these things, it should probably worry you more than what it did.

Dreams have been more vivid, you still have a hard time remembering what you dream, but they have changed. You would often wake up feeling incredibly sad, even crying. You would also wake up mid-laugh with no memory of what caused these emotions in you. And most damning was that you would be sure that you had been held – still feeling the warmth of an arm around you or a hand holding yours, even though you were very much alone in your bed.

This was not limited to your home. Although it was rare, you would occasionally feel a hand on the small of your back when you were stressed, a hand on your shoulder when you would start to panic, a whispered ‘breathe’ when you became angry.

Because your brain longed for logic, because you have always been one to look for rational explanations, you had tried to figure it out. Your conclusions came to the fact that you probably needed to see a professional. But you did not do that. You do not really know why not.

One night you woke up, not sure what woke you, but there was an unmistakable hand holding yours. You felt the weight of it, the heat, the size. You took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, because you couldn’t see anything in the dark. You squeezed the hand gently and it reciprocated with equal tenderness. You reached your other hand over to feel, too scared to move the hand being held. But you knew if you tried to touch this hand it would disappear and that just broke your heart, made it clench in pain. So, you left it. You just held the hand, trying to get information about the hand without seeing it or moving again. The hand was larger than yours, long slender fingers and it held yours with deliberateness.

Another night you were woken by a voice whispering your name, right by your ear. You were sure that it was him even though him talking or making any sound was very rare. You woke up, smelling smoke and immediately shot up to see what was going on. A field nearby had caught fire, causing big billows of orange smoke to be visible when you looked out the window. You could see the flames, but it wasn’t near enough to be of danger to you, but the wind was blowing some of the smoke in your direction so you closed the windows. You were almost relieved when you smelled the smoke on the curtains the next morning, because you were sure for a second, you had dreamt the whole thing.

Things started escalating as soon as October hit.

You would feel the bed dip with a weight behind you, but no one was ever there. When you unlocked your phone in the morning, a song would be paused, ready to play. It was sometimes songs you knew and loved and sometimes songs you had never heard, never knew existed. The song would always have something in it that you needed – lyrics that made you feel hopeful or even just a fun song to lighten your mood. You would always try to accept the message as best as you could. You felt the hand in yours more often. You realised it was not as often as you would have liked.

The disappointment in you when no song waited for you in the morning was enough to ruin your day. You knew that you were losing your mind – and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

2. Noah I was near her and that was what was important. I knew that I was better when I was near her. More real. But I kept reliving a moment in my life that evening and it just would not stop. I knew that my emotions bled through to her often, so I tried so hard to keep these memories at bay because they were not pleasant for me and I knew she would feel some of it in some way.

Memories were very vague for me, there was so much of my life and who I was that I just cannot recall. But certain pieces were clear, some just less fuzzy. I sometimes did not even know myself.

The memory was of the day that I died. This one was annoyingly clear. The sun was shining bright, it was a hot day. I had the window of the car rolled down. When my dad lost control of the vehicle everything slowed down in my mind, like I had time to process and stop what was happening, prevent this tragedy from taking the lives of everyone in that car that day. But I couldn’t. I remember bracing my hand on the roof of the car as it started to flip, my head being smashed so painfully against the frame of the car. The continuous motion that felt like it went on for so long. When it finally stopped, I was lying there, the sun burning me as I watched blood pooling around us. Most of the blood came from a head wound my father had sustained. I knew they were all dead. I knew I was too. I made it the longest, only officially dying in the hospital a few hours later. All alone.

I cannot even remember what car we were in. I cannot remember who else was in the car. I cannot remember what my father looked like. But the feeling of my pain shooting through my body was detailed in my mind. Did I even have a mind anymore? Over and over this played. I knew she was dreaming about it when she started clenching her hands into fists and her breathing became uneven. I did not want her to have bad dreams. She would not even understand where this dream came from.

I have been able to touch things lately. Not just accidental movements after trying for ages like it has been for years. I have tried leaving her notes in the beginning. But I could never hold the pen successfully. It took immense concentration in the beginning, but it has been getting easier slowly. Now I could leave her notes if I wanted to, but what do I say to her after years of being here with her. She can hear me sometimes, but I do not want to scare her. I try to be subtle. Sometimes I just feel like she needs me. And I wish I could be what she needed so bad. So, this evening, I lay down next to her and hold her fists between my hands as best I can. Hoping to provide some comfort while we both live through the accident repeatedly.

3. You You woke gasping through a sob. Your head hurt, your muscles were so tense, but you remembered a lot of the dream. You knew the images were not yours. You knew you had to keep remembering. So, you leap out of bed as fast as you can, head pounding at the sudden movement. You went straight for a pen and the first scrap of paper you could reach. You wrote down some of the images before they flew away never to be recalled again.

Car accident. Yellow car. Blood. Tattoos.

You tried to think of more. You really tried so hard, and added ‘hospital’ to the list. A fat tear splashed on the paper and then only did you realise you were still sobbing. You stood up straight, wiped your cheeks and tried to take a deep breath, but it shook. You got ready for work, washing your face with cold water. The whole day, you were distracted and you could not focus. You have had dreams that were strange before, where you couldn’t remember the details. Writing down the memories of this one worked so well, that while you were constantly clutching at the crumpled paper in your pocket, you didn’t need it anymore, you knew the words on the paper so well now.

The tattoos were new. You knew it was significant. You feel like the accident was strangely familiar to you in a way, but the tattoos that covered the arms and hands of the person was a new detail. You regularly closed your eyes throughout the day trying to visualize what they looked like. There were tattoos on his neck also, but his face was clear, pale and smooth. You always had a feeling he was a man. A male? You felt sure now. You felt utter frustration that you could not remember what the tattoos were of.

You took a deep breath when you felt a warmth on your shoulder. He was here. Focus on anything you could remember, even if it seemed silly, you told yourself.

Red, there were red features in a mostly black and grey mass of art covering his arms. You hoped it was not blood that you saw.

You saw blood pooling from wounds sustained in the accident. So much blood. The driver had black hair. And he had dark hair also, but not black.

Then an image shot through your head of a hand pressing flat against the roof of the car in desperation to stop himself from getting hurt. The hand was the most clear, vivid image you have ever managed about him. The hand was really large, with slender fingers, exactly what you felt when your hand was held during the night. But now you had bright light shining on it and you knew so much more. The nails were short and neat. The thumb was bony and stood out far to the side. The tattoos were so clear, there was no way your mind could have come up with this. An image of a goat with red eyes and a red horn on the back of his hand, very elaborate calligraphy on his knuckles and a Leaf-Village symbol on his index finger. A crescent moon right where his index finger meets his hand on his thumb’s side.

You grabbed a pen and tried drawing what you could remember, it was not great, but it was something. You took the drawing, the paper from your pocket which you tried to smooth out and put them between the pages an empty notebook you found in your bookshelf. That evening, you placed the book and a pen right by your bed in case you needed to take notes again.

You had taken medication during the day to calm yourself down and to help with the pounding headache, so you fell asleep quite easily. You felt his hand rest on your arm as you were falling asleep and you pictured the tattoo there.

4. Noah There was a strange hopefulness in me as I watched her draw the picture of the back of my hand. She truly saw me in the dream. I wished that it could have been a better dream, one that was not terrible for the both of us. But it clearly stuck with her.

As I was laying with her, that very hand resting on her arm, I wondered if there were other ways I could tell her who I am. Who I was. Despondently, I tell myself, yet again, that I barely knew who I was. I could not even remember my name.

Since the tattoos got her attention though, I searched through my mind to find a memory that had something to do with my tattoos. I could see them all on myself now. I had many. Sparser on the legs but still so many to choose from. I thought of the Moon Lady on my leg, I had fond memories of getting her done. Not super specific, but I was laughing with the artist. It felt lighter, happier and I kept thinking of that, while slowly making circles with my fingers on her skin.

5. You Yellow walls, framed pictures, happiness.

You were laying on the couch, your hair damp from the shower, the window open to allow the cool morning breeze in. Your eyes were closed as you tried to relive the dream you had last night. The whole vibe was so different from the previous dreams that you enjoyed it and felt such relief to not feel your heart clench, the moment you woke up, with sadness.

He was getting a tattoo done on the outside of his left leg, just above the ankle. He was laying down then sitting up - constantly changing position throughout. The artist was a man about his age, with a mass of dark hair pulled back in a mess at the back of his head. While you couldn’t know what they were talking about, there was clearly a bond between them, joking and laughing all the while. You tried to focus on him. You needed to know more. His hair was long, well past his shoulders. Dark brown eyes. A smile that made your heart clench. He smiled with his whole face. His eyes squinting almost shut, a brief exhale with white teeth showing. He would also pull a pained face every now and then from the tattoo gun dragging across his skin.

You tried to get clues about the tattoo shop, to look out of a window, but his attention was focused on his friend and you couldn’t really get anything useful. You wish you could record the dreams and go through them frame by frame.

You felt fingers carefully touching your hair. You keep your eyes closed trying to determine if it was maybe the breeze, but it was definitely not. You were always so scared of scaring him away if you were to look or even reach out and touch his hand back.

The fingers started to gently comb through, as gentle as every time he decided to touch. It was rare during the day, it mostly happened when he thought you were sleeping. You sighed deeply, enjoying the feeling. And then you smell him. It was brief whiff of clean, fresh, masculine.

Tears well up immediately and you do not even know why.

You swallow, take a deep breath and decide to be brave. “Can you hear me?” you whispered.

The hand disappeared from your hair. You did not move. You waited a while and then you felt the hand back at your hair, stroking a strand away from your face. You hold your hand out, palm up. “Can you hear me?” you ask again. A single finger strokes a line in your palm. Your breath catches. The touch sent a wave of goosebumps across your whole body.

“Who are you?” you asked. You wait for a long time and get no answering touch. “Do you know who you are?” it was the only thing you could think of. A moment, then a cross was drawn in your palm. Your heart starts to beat so much faster. You sit up, folding your legs in front of you, keeping your eyes closed. You placed a hand on each knee, palm up. You felt such nervousness, not wanting to scare him off, but desperately wanting answers. You needed to ask carefully.

“Do you have tattoos? Did you have tattoos?” you grimace, not knowing how to approach this with more tact if you did not have more information. One line on your left palm. Yes. “Why are you here? With me?” You get no response. “Do you know why you are here?” You try again. Again, no response. You badly wanted to open your eyes. You do not even know why you were keeping them shut. You blink them open and you see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you still here?” One line. Yes.

“Are you trapped here?” A cross. No.

“Do you know who I am?” Yes.

“Did you die?” your voice is barely audible. Yes.

“In a car accident?” Yes. “I am sorry.” He squeezed your hand.

“Do you need help?” No response. “Do you need closure or peace or something?” No.

“I am not afraid of you. Should I be?” No.

Each of his reactions were slow and deliberate. It felt so real when he touched your hand that you wanted to close your eyes again, so that you could picture him there. But he was there. You needed to know the rules of this. He has spoken before. “Can you speak?” A hesitant no.

“You have spoken to me before?” Yes.

“But you cannot now?” No.

“Only sometimes?” Yes.

He took both of your hands, and pulled them together, giving a brief squeeze before the hands disappeared. No more questions.

6. Noah I enjoyed it when she was home the whole day, because it was so much easier to stay present. I was not always. I disappeared sometimes. She was puttering around her small place dressed in stretchy pants and a large shirt, her hair messy. She was so beautiful like this.

She had on a playlist of all the songs I have left her. I could not understand how I could not remember my own name, but had a whole cache of music in my brain. My head?

Each song I chose was with a reason, but it often worried me she would see the wrong reason. She would stop what she is doing every now and then to listen to the lyrics, sometimes even looking them up. Sometimes she looked at her phone with an expression on her face that clearly said she did not like the song, it made me smile. Some songs she would straight up laugh at me – it felt like that. Some she would sit and listen, nodding along or tears welling up. Some songs she knew and she would sing along and even dance. I joined her, but she did not notice.

Things have changed since our limited conversation. I did not scare her and that made me bold. When she was on the couch, listening to the music still, legs crossed as she lay with her arms above her head, I sat by her. When she fell asleep, I got closer and ran the back of my fingers across her cheek. She leaned into my touch, a small smile on her face. Maybe she was not as asleep as I had thought. So, I kept stroking her skin, then traced an eyebrow, ran a finger down her nose. She reacted so perfectly. Times like this I wish I were real with more heartache and passion than I could explain.

“Thank you for the songs,” she exhaled. I cupped her cheek then. I kissed her forehead.

She felt it, because her eyes shot open, but she could not see me. She had a blush on her cheeks. Adorable.

“Did you just….?” She could not finish the question. Her palm was not ready for me to answer, but I as soon as I touched her hand, she flattened her hand, and I answered her.

She was quiet so long I started to panic, thinking I had crossed a line. I managed a soft, whispered, “Sorry.” This was easier it seemed when I was in stressed.

Her eyes went wide, and she looked around, but she still could not see me. “I heard you,” she beamed. “Don’t be sorry, it was sweet.” I felt relief.

She touched her fingers to her forehead where I had kissed her. After some time, she said, “I don’t know if you have control over what I see in my dreams about you… but you need to give me a clue so I can figure this out.” I drew a line in her palm, meaning that I will try.

I tried very hard, putting all my concentration into it, “Is it okay that I am here?” I whispered.

She frowned. “Did you ask if it was okay that you are here?” she whispered back.

Yes.

She took a long breath before she answered. “In the beginning, I was sure that I was losing my sanity. I was a maybe a little afraid. But you became a pleasant addition to my days.”

I smiled at her, but she did not know.

“I miss you sometimes,” she added. “Where do you go when you are not here?”

“I don’t know,” I managed.

“How long have you been here?”

“Years.”

“Years,” she exclaimed. Her face contorted in confusion. “I was not aware of that. You never made yourself known.”

“Couldn’t.”

“Why here? Why me?”

I could not get another answer out. So instead, I placed my hand in hers, pressing our palms together.

7. You You woke up gently with your fingers wrapped around two of his fingers. Without letting go, you stretched and rubbed your eyes with the other hand. “You did it,” you said sleepily. You turn back to where he had to be next to you, and brought your other hand up to cup his. If you kept your eyes closed, you could forget that he was not real, that is how solid he felt. “I saw you walk out of the tattoo shop,’ you sigh. “I saw the sign.” His other hand joined. “I just need to figure out how that leads me to you.” You got up later and sat at your computer with a cup of coffee ready to start the search. Mixed emotions coursed through you. You typed the name of the tattoo shop and immediately got a list of results. It was in a small town very far from where you were now. You have visited this town before, loved it, thought of going back many times. You were confused by this information. How did he end up here, so far away, with you?

Now that you knew the location, you knew what had to be searched next. But you did not really want to. Getting answers here would make everything too real. It would take away the small morsel of hope you had.

You felt his hand on your shoulders, quietly encouraging you to continue.

You typed in the name of the town followed by 'fatal car accidents'.

There were not many results, but you reluctantly started clicking through, reading news articles and other bits, quickly skipping if you saw it was not the one you needed. Eventually you clicked on a short article in the digital newspaper. It had a small black and white photo and your whole chest felt constricted. It was him. You read through it slowly.

You turn your chair around completely, so you could face him, held your hands out and he took both with his. “This is a little confusing,” you breathe. He squeezed. “You were alone in the car when you… “

He took one of his hands away. “The article says it was dark and the roads were slippery from rain and that you must have lost control of the car. It doesn’t give much more than that,” by this time you were speaking so softly. You gave him a moment, knowing this is not what he remembered. “In the dreams the sun was so bright,” you add. You knew he understood.

“Your name is Noah,” you finally said it out loud. His name feeling almost familiar on your tongue. He takes your hand again and squeezes so hard it is almost painful. “Noah Sebastian Davis.”

Then, while the tears are gathering in your eyes, one of them escaping and slipping down your cheek, your heart breaking for this man that was not really there, you saw a flicker of him. Like signals were lost in his broadcast and saw him on his knees in front of you his head hanging, his hair, cut short, falling forward, while his hands were up in yours.

You suck in a breath so fast, and feel tingling goosebumps run through your whole body. You tried to keep your cool, not knowing what to say. He was processing some significant news and you did not want to be insensitive by freaking out about seeing him. Even if it was brief, the image was seared into your mind. The stunning beauty of the man kneeling in front of you would be easy to recall and you would do so often.

Once you have calmed down, you tried to focus again. “Do you remember this accident at all?” you asked him. He drew a cross in your palm. “I will figure it out, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. “We will put the puzzle together.” He squeezed your hands again, both of them.

You hear a faint and sad, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it was not happier news,” you say equally softly.

“Thank you for my name,” he clarifies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, realising what a big deal it must be for him to know that. “It suits you,” you say with a small smile.

That night as you were reading before it was time to sleep, you felt the dip on the bed and then an arm drape around your middle. You smiled sleepily and put the book down. “I saw you today, Noah,” you said. “When I was telling you the news, I saw you for a moment.” His arm tightened briefly. But other than that, you got no response. You fell asleep feeling the weight of his arm, seeing the image of him in your mind.

8. Noah I was lying next to her, she was sleeping deeply, her deep steady breaths accompanied by the lightest of snores. Learning this knowledge about myself was such a peculiar feeling that I did not know what to make of it. My name felt foreign and so familiar at the same time. How could I not have known my own name. But knowing it felt like such an important piece of the puzzle of who I was. I would say the name, trying it out, often. My name was a bigger shock that finding out that I did not die like I thought. My mind must have gotten things mixed up. But knowing I was alone in the car was a relief. Such a small mistake. And it cost me so much. I am aware that I do not even know everything that I am missing out on. But the heaviest of the burdens was not meeting her for real. The real me. Because I know we would have. I know it. Our souls have a bond that I cannot explain. It aches in me to know what we are both missing out on because of my mistake.

She sighed, rolled over, her arm reaching out and came to rest across my ribcage. Or where my ribcage should be. This was the first time this has happened. Normally when she rolls over where I am, she goes right through me, and she does not even know. Now, she is holding me. She knows, even in her sleep, she tightened her hold, pulling us closer together.

My moments of realness have been happening more often. I was trying to figure out why, what causes it, so I can make it happen more often. High emotions on my part definitely seem to play a role. But her feelings were also a factor. Hers were harder to solve. But I felt like I knew her better than I knew myself. In my bones, in my soul, I knew her. As she was getting to know me, it made me more real to her. But it had a physical effect on me also.

I rest my hand on her arm, and try to wiggle closer to her. I rest my lips against her forehead. ***

I leave a song on her phone. A calm but uplifting song in major. I want her to feel peace and contentment, because I do after hours of holding each other. She plays it on repeat while she gets dressed, brushes her teeth, fixes her hair. I watch her do mundane things all the time, my soul feeling at peace whenever I am near her. But, also, I feel so strongly for her that even the mundane is magical when she is doing it.

She is in a good mood this morning. Her usual morning grumpiness almost absent completely. While she is making breakfast for herself, she is moving to the song still playing, swaying with the sounds. I take a big risk and go behind her, placing my hands on her hips. She pauses and sucks in a breath, realises it was only me and relaxes again.

I have kept touching to hands only for so long, that the new sensation of her holding me while she sleeps and touching her so casually is overwhelming to me.

“Close your eyes,” I whisper right by her ear and I can see the goosebumps rise across the skin of her neck. Without hesitation she closes her eyes. The trust she has in me.

I turn her around, and rest my arms around her middle and start to sway the both of us side to side. Her hands reached out, her eyes still closed, and felt around, touching my chest, flattening her palms against me and running them upwards, slowly until she found my shoulders, resting her hands there close to my neck. She swayed with me happily, until she started to shuffle her feet to get us to start rotating slowly on the spot in the kitchen, her breakfast forgotten.

She was smiling in the beginning, but by the second play through of the song the smile faded and tears started falling from her shut eyes. Her lip and chin were quivering, like she was trying to hold back. I wiped away the tears on her cheeks, holding her face for a moment and then holding her closer to me, so that her head was resting against my chest. I was a lot taller than her. She cried for a while, keeping her eyes squeezed shut – I knew why.

“Why are you never real?” she asked, her voice strained. I had nothing to say. I just held her tighter.

9. You He has not been present for a few days. You are worried and you miss him more than you care to admit. He is in the back of your mind the whole time, even when you are busy with other things. You have saved the photo of him from the newspaper on your phone and you look every so often. You think about the change in hairstyle from that day you saw him when you told him his name.

You are worried that the whole thing was all in your imagination. You also worry about why he would stay away this long if it was not your imagination. Every day you wish and hope that he would show up, be home when you got there, that he would leave you a song, a sign, anything.

It was six days after the dance in the kitchen when he was back. And the relief you felt was immense. You woke up in the middle of the night, and he was wrapped around you. Never before have you felt so much of him. His legs were tangled with yours, his arm around you pulling you back into his chest, his head in your hair. It was the best feeling.

You have stopped trying to make sense of this. You knew he was not real. But yet, he was so real. You had no idea how you could feel him, hear him and know this ghost or spirit or entity so well. You held him too, gripping his arm, as best you could, drinking in the feeling of having him back.

“Do I make you sad?” he whispered to you. His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“No,” you answer immediately, no thought necessary. “Why would you think that?” you whisper back.

“You cry often when I’m with you,” he said so softly it was barely audible.

You swallow and take moment. “I am sad sometimes. I feel sad about what happened to you. I feel sad that I could not meet you before it happened. But you do not make me sad.”

You feel him nod against you in understanding. He squeezed you with his whole body. He is real this evening like never before.

“Is that why you left?” you say turning to look at him even though you could not see him.

“Yes,” he breathes. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Emotion wells up in your chest so much that it aches. But you swallow the tears. Instead, you take a breath and force more neutral tone to your voice. “You make the sadness better. I always feel better when you are here. I really missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” he kisses behind your ear. “I missed you, too.”

“Where did you go?”

“I don’t really go anywhere. If I am not here or with you, I kind of disappear,” he explains. “I came to check on you a few times.”

“I didn’t realise,” you say.

“I will always check if you are okay,” he says, his voice fuller.

“Why me?” you asked him, not for the first time.

He was quiet for a long time before he answered. “After I died, my whole being knew I had to find you. My soul, or whatever, went straight to you. I didn’t know why. But when I found you, everything felt right.”

You have never heard his voice this much; it was deep and beautiful. You could listen to him forever. What he was saying was even better. “It does feel right,” you agree.

“I think I can hold you and talk to you from sheer relief that I am near you again,” he says this quickly.

“I am not complaining,” you smile. Keeping your eyes shut, just in case, despite the fact that it was dark in the room, you turn to face him and blindly search until you have your hand on his cheek, you feel his soft skin with slight stubble. How is he not real? “Please don’t leave again.”

Then he presses his lips against yours, slowly and deliberately. You inhale deeply through your nose. He was warm against you, you felt how his lips molded into the kiss, his body pulling yours closer. He pulls away, only to kiss you again and again. He was firm but gentle. It was everything.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “I have wanted to do that for years.”

With those words leaving his mouth, you see him again. You didn’t even realise your eyes were open. But in the dark you saw his outline, his dark hair a contrast against his pale skin. You wanted all the lights on, but you knew it would break whatever spell was cast in this moment.

So instead, keeping your eyes open to try and not miss a thing, you kiss him and you are more forceful than he was. His hand comes up over your ear as he holds you, and when you part your lips slightly to deepen the kiss he moans sweetly and does the same. Your eyes close because you could not help it. It was too good, too much and not enough. His hands were not still for long, his impossibly long fingers in your hair, in the shell of your ear, his thumb stroking your skin. When his tongue touches yours, so soft, the sensation courses through your whole body and you grip him, trying to get him closer, as close as you can get. He makes sounds that sound like desperation. You could die from this and your ghost would be his.

You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder, him stroking your hair, his one thigh between yours. If you could keep your eyes open all night you would, you were terrified of missing one moment.

But, gloriously, when you opened your eyes with the first rays of sunshine coming through the curtains, he was still there and visible. You were facing each other, still close together, clinging to each other almost. You had to pull your head back a bit to see his face properly. You drank him in, struggling to resist the urge to touch. His hair, shorter than the photo you have, messy, forward over his forehead, hiding his eyebrows. The slight pout on his lips, the slight stubble on his face. He was perfection. Literally nothing on his face was less than perfect.

You traced a finger down the length of his straight nose, lightly. When he started to wake up, he started fading and your heart sank. “Noah,” you say watching him fade into nothing.

“I’m right here,” he says, pulling you closer.

10. Noah “What are you doing?” She is sitting up in bed, back propped up against pillows, the glow from her tablet illuminating her face.

She startled a bit, looked in my direction, but I knew she couldn’t see me right now. “Research,” she said her eyes back to the screen. “I think I have found something.”

“What did you find?” I sit next to her, close enough that I could see the screen too.

She winced. “It’s not all good news, unfortunately,” she starts. “From what I could gather, you were twenty-seven when you died. The dream I had of you dying with other people was bothering me, because the article said you were alone. Also, in the dream the sun was so bright.”

I just scooted closer. Talking was a bit difficult this evening. I laid my head on her shoulder.

She leaned into me before she carried on. “You were in another car crash when you were eleven, with your dad and other people. Everyone died in that crash, except for you. You must have combined the memories in your mind.”

Flashes of the blood pooling went through my head and suddenly I could see my younger self there instead. Absolute panic knowing everyone was dead, being pretty sure I was too. It made sense.

“Then I also know the tattoo artist’s name. Nicholas Ruffilo. You were very close friends; I found his social media and there are some photos of the two of you.”

She swiped through some photos and I felt a tug in my chest at these memories that I could not really remember. But I felt a connection to him if nothing else. It was the strangest feeling, seeing myself, knowing it is me, but not feeling the full link I was supposed to.

“It’s strange, isn’t it,’ she said putting her hand in the direction of my knee, finding it eventually and keeping it there as a reassuring gesture. I nod against her. “Do you remember any of this?”

“Not really,” I manage to whisper.

“Lots of instruments and middle fingers in the photos,” she snorts lightly.

I chuckled quietly.

“I can’t find any information about your dad, however. I think it’s a dead end there. But I can try and make contact with him,” she gestures to the photos, “I am sure he will have information.”

“Maybe.”

“Is it too much?” she asks.

I take her hand when I reply, “It’s a bit overwhelming, yes. But thank you.” I kiss her cheek.

“Okay, I will wait,” she says tenderly and puts the tablet away. She then comes closer and places her forehead against my one cheek, her free hand cupping my other cheek. It is a gesture of comfort. “Sorry if I pried too much.”

I shake my head, bringing the hand I was holding up to kiss it. “I appreciate you.”

I start to maneuver myself that I am between her legs, laying on my stomach, resting my head on her chest. I wrap my arms around her as much as a can. I can feel her heartbeat against my ear, I breathe her in. She wiggles slightly lower on the pillows and immediately holds me back, her arm across my back, then she gently scratches across my back, sending pleasurable shivers through me. Her one leg even hooks over one of mine.

“I appreciate you, too.” She says after some time.

“This,” I sigh, “is so much more than I ever thought I could wish for.” I whisper hoping my ability to talk does not slip away. “When I came to you, I thought I would just hang here forever, never being able to interact with you at all.”

Her scratching continues rhythmically. “You being here has made my life so much better,” she whispered back.

I was eternally grateful for her acceptance of this entire situation exactly the way it was. With neither of us really understanding anything. But I was not sure if it was as good for her as it was for me. Regardless of how I feel, I was still not real.

11. You There was a song waiting for you, it was almost every morning now. It was upbeat with a female voice. You listened while waiting for the kettle to boil. As usual you took a while to fully wake up, so at first you had it at low volume, not really listening with attention yet. A lot of the times, Noah’s intention was the vibe and not necessarily the lyrics.

But a few play throughs later, as you were sipping your coffee a few words were captured by your brain and you stopped mid-swallow. You grab your phone and sure enough you were not imagining it. Touching Yourself by The Japanese House.

Your mind starts sounding like static in your own ears as you try to process what this means. Because you have wondered a few times how often he is present without you knowing. You knew he was not always present or whatever. You also trusted that he would leave you in moments that would require privacy, like bathroom moments and so on. You would also be lying to yourself if you did not admit that it has crossed your mind many times in certain moments; whether he was watching.

With your face hidden in your hands, you say, “Noah, are you here?”

“Yes,” he says sheepishly.

“Where are you?” you asked, looking up, but you could not see him.

“I am by the fridge,” he says.

You felt stupid as you look in the general direction of the fridge to talk to him, you were certainly looking in the wrong place, you often thought it must be funny sight to him. “This song,” you start.

“Yeah,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“What are you…” you trail off, the awkward feeling getting stronger by the second. “Are you trying to tell me something.”

“I guess so,” he says. There is a breathiness to his voice, like he is laughing.

“This one was not for the vibes?” you say your voice small.

“Well, no,” he says he sounded slightly closer. “The vibes are nice though.”

“Oh God,” you say hiding your face again. Not knowing if you should laugh or panic. “You were there?”

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” he says, very close now, but you almost want to back away from him.

“Noah, what the hell?” You are panicking and laughing at the same time, since your brain did not know which one to pick. You look up, wishing you could see his face to help you read the situation better.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I left as soon as I could. But…”

He takes your hands, and this anchors you. You knew where he was and felt him, making it easier to have this conversation a tiny bit. “But,” you say loudly, needing him to finish his thought.

“I cannot always make myself leave, you know,” he says. “I do not always listen to my own instructions.”

“You could have to told me you were there,” you say your voice getting higher in pitch each time you speak.

“I couldn’t make a sound and I was turned away, in the corner trying to leave.”

“You were trapped!?”

“No, that sounds harsh, I just couldn’t do what I knew I had to,” his voice calmer and lower.

Your brain was trying and failing to come up with something to reply with.

“I knew then that I had to tell you that this was a thing that could happen. I don’t want to be creepy. But I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he says his voice soft.

Despite your blush, you burst out laughing, head thrown back, from your belly. He flickered into view. You saw relief and shock on his face. “You decide to tell me with that song!?” You look him right in the eye now.

“Was it that silly?” he asked.

“Yes, you could have just said it. But I appreciate the thought you put into this one.” You grab his face and kiss him quickly. “I am still embarrassed, though.”

“Seriously, don’t be. But, in the future?” he asked.

“Well,” you say feeling weirdly emboldened. “In the future, I will ask if you are there.”

“And then you’ll tell me to fuck off,” he nods.

“Yes,” you kiss his chin, it was all you could reach without him leaning down. “Or, I’ll invite you to stay if you want to.”

His eyes widen as he looks at you, a small smile forming on his lips. “Interesting.”

12. Noah She had the car packed and ready for the very long drive. I was going to tag along as far as it was possible for me to do. But I was very uneasy and nervous about the whole thing. At the same time, I felt excited. I did not know what to expect really. I knew this could be very eye opening or devastating, and mostly for her sake, I hoped it was a good experience.

She had contacted Nicholas and the only excuse she had to see him was to make an appointment for a tattoo. Then she obsessed over which tattoo to get, was in communication with him about the design and decided on a date and time. I had a lot of input on the tattoo and I loved that she even asked me.

We stopped at a store where she ran in for snacks, me following behind, telling her to buy marshmallows. I missed them.

I knew she was not able to see me during most of the drive, but I put myself in charge of the music. She would tell me to skip or make requests if she felt strongly, but mostly we could listen and sing along quite pleasantly. I was nervous about the length of the drive and that she might start feeling sleepy so I kept things upbeat.

“Are you nervous?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said immediately. “How do I have this conversation without sounding like a crazy person?”

“I think you just need to be honest.” I said helpfully.

“Noah, honesty is not going to do the trick here. I need to convince him that this,” she waves her hand in my direction, “is happening without being weird. This is going to for sure be weird.”

I try to feed her a marshmallow from the packet, but she shakes her head. “Maybe you should wait until the tattoo is finished. What if he chases you out or something?” She looks at me in the wrong place, in horror.

“I didn’t think of that,” she said.

We stop about half way to fill up the car, she went to the bathroom and got a coffee. She was tired, so we did a sing along for a while to get her more alert.

“What if you find out something about me that you don’t like,” I finally ask what has been bothering me most.

She was quiet for a moment while she thought about it. “I am not very worried about that,” she said. “It did cross my mind, but I am sure there won’t be anything that bad. We all have pasts and did things we are not proud of.”

“I am terrified about what you might find.”

She reached out and I grabbed her hand, interlacing our fingers. “Don’t be,” she smiled reassuringly. “You let me know when I need to stop, and I will.”

We held hands the rest of the way, or my hand was on her thigh.

When we got to the bed and breakfast she immediately went for a shower and I waited for her on the bed. She came out of the bathroom wearing her usual oversized t-shirt she slept in, her legs bare, hair wet. She grabbed her pillow from her bag, threw it on the bed and then towel dried her hair before sitting on the bed next to me.

13. You You were restless, you were stressed and nervous and you felt like something was crawling over your skin. You kept turning, flipping the pillow, taking a sip of water and you just could not settle down. You were exhausted from the drive, but you just could not let go and fall asleep.

Next thing you knew, Noah grabs you around your waist, whispered, “Come here,” and pulls your back so that you are between his legs, your head resting on his shoulder. He pushed the covers off to one side and his large hands were firmly running up and down your arms, like he was trying to get rid of the crawling feeling. He grabbed your hand every now and again when he made his way down your arm, he ran his hand through your hair. “You are okay,” he whispered. “Breathe,” he said.

You did not need much encouragement for that part, because his hands all over you made your breath quicken and deepen. You squeezed your legs together and tried to stop yourself from grabbing him back. You close your eyes firmly and turn your head towards him and press your lips firmly against his neck, he tilts his head ever so slightly to give you better access. You touch your tongue to his skin and taste him and the way it was all him with a bit of salt made you turn slightly in his grip and free your one hand from his ministrations so you could throw your arm around him and hold him in place as you lick up the column of his neck to his jawline. You do this slowly and deliberately.

“Jesus,” he moans and his mouth is desperate to find yours in a crushing kiss. It was a kiss of urgency, like you were holding back for way too long. You definitely were.

You turn your body as much as you can so you can access him more easily as your hands grab at his shoulders. He bites onto your bottom lip and drags his teeth as he pulls away and then bites into your neck gently. You grab his hair at the sensations he was sending through your body. You were both panting. His breath hot against your jaw as he finds his way back to your mouth. You kept your eyes shut.

He makes the bold move, because your boldness was turning into uncertainty for many reasons. He moved out from under you to hover above you, kissing you all the time. Your whole being was burning for him, every part of your body was alive with need for him, but your brain kept wondering how all of this was even possible. You actively decide to not worry about it, because no one knew the answer, not even Noah. So, you would just take whatever you could.

His hand lands on your hip and he runs it down your thigh and then over where he taps lightly. You ease your legs apart and he settles there like it was always where he was meant to be. He runs a single finger along the top of your underwear, back and forth, asking permission. You quickly squeezed his hand as an answer and then pushed his shirt out of the way and up his back, needing more. You manage to wrestle the shirt off him and then he sneaks his hand into your underwear slowly making his way to where you wanted him most.

“Is this okay?” he pants. You open your eyes and there he is in all his glory kneeling between your legs leaning forward on one arm, while the other hand was very gingerly touching you, his hair tousled from your fingers running through it, his dark eyes seemed even darker.

You grab his arm and lean forward needing to be closer to him, “Noah,” you breathe, “yes,” you nod. You kiss him messily and pull him back with you and when his fingers slowly drag through the wetness there, you gasp and he moans. He starts a rhythm with his touching, drawing circles with his fingers and it immediately drives you insane. You grip onto his back with urgency, not even knowing what you are trying to achieve other than to be closer to him, climb inside of him, anything. When your nails dig in, he moans again and the way his voice cracks, the deep tremble that vibrates through his throat is beautiful and filthy. “You are killing me,” you rasp.

He hesitates for a second. “In a good way?”

“God, yes, in a good way,” you barely manage to get out.

Then, he grips the edges of your underwear and starts working them down your hips. You lift slightly so he can slip them off entirely before he is back where he left off.

He kisses you, his lips just pressing against yours with insistence. You hear and feel his breath and you wonder for a second if breathing is necessary for him. But then he stops what he is doing so that he can press a single finger into you. He does this slowly. He squeezed his eyes shut, but you are in awe of him and just how impossibly ethereal he looks that you cannot look away if you tried. “So warm,” he says.

He readjusts himself so that he has better access to you, but this makes him more out of reach and you do not like this, but when he moves that finger inside of you with surety, curling it just slightly you throw your head back and let out a moan of pleasure. This makes him smile. When he adds a second finger, so that his pointer and middle fingers are working together you can feel the tingly, deep feeling starting to build up. He goes slower, like he knows exactly what you are feeling, dragging the feeling out longer. You move your hips along with him, he keeps gently pushing your thighs apart with his body. You reach for him and he grabs your hand, entwining your fingers together without a thought. Then the feeling reaches its peak and the orgasm washes through your entire body in intense but almost gentle way. It does not overwhelm you that you feel you want to push him away, instead when he works his fingers all through the orgasm, you gripping him rhythmically, it is just what you wanted and needed. The feeling is so intense that you feel tears stinging at your eyes, you try to blink them away, knowing that Noah will think he was making you sad.

But he already saw, and he was kissing your eyes, running his hand across your face to push your hair back as finally removes his fingers from you and then he lays between your legs, his weight comforting against you. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You can just nod.

“You are so amazing,” he whispers in your ear, he keeps his head buried in the crook of your neck. You reach your arm around him and hug him to you as close as you can. You squeeze your thighs around his hips. Then he maneuvers himself so he is next to you and he pulls you closer, so your head is resting tucked under his chin, he tangles your legs together. “Now, please get some sleep,” he mumbles and his arms rests across your waist.

You still wanted to ask about him. You still wanted to overthink the whole reality of everything. But your eyes were heavy, you were warm and so comfortable breathing him in that you fell asleep effortlessly.

14. Noah Nicholas greeted her with a shy warmth when we arrived. He had a beanie pulled over his messy black hair. He showed her to his area, showing her the final design again, asking if she was sure, getting the stencil ready. I kept my hand on her lower back, I could see she was tense, breathing too fast, kept wiping sweat at her brow. She was panicking.

“You can take a moment before we start,” Nick said so calmly and with such kindness. I looked at him and felt familiarity. His mannerisms and slightly awkward demeanor seemed not only familiar but hit me so much deeper than I ever thought it would. After my death I have only ever felt a bond with her. I did not expect the fullness in my heart from seeing someone that had clearly been a dear friend of mine.

She lifts her skirt up where she stands in front of a mirror and Nicholas slides closer on his chair with wheels, holding the stencil. He patiently takes his time and asks her is she is happy with the placement, asks if she is sure. He applies it with gentle precision and rolls back to have a look for himself. When she convinces him that she was happy, he shows her to the bench. She settles herself on the bench he had ready, covered in plastic. She awkwardly tries to find a comfortable position and I can see that this is overwhelming for her. And I understand, the whole thing is a strange situation to say the least. She lays back a little and she exposes her thigh again. Meanwhile he is carefully wrapping the tattoo gun, placing cling wrap everywhere, filling little containers with ink. He is meticulous. While he is distracted, I stand behind her and I rub her back, squeeze her hand, run my fingers through her hair. I cannot offer any verbal reassurance; we are not sure if he would hear.

Both of us are sure that it is only her that can hear me. But we have no basis for this belief. We could be wrong. Now was not the time to test our theory.

Her skin is clammy by the time Nick comes closer to start the process. He asks if she is ready and she nods. He stretched the skin and starts. I can see the pain etched into her eyebrows immediately as Nick draws the first line. She puts a hand behind her back for me and I grab it and hold on.

“It is pretty painful,” Nick laughs softly and kindly. “You just let me know if you need a break or anything.”

“Thank you,” she chokes out. This was worse than she was bargaining for. I feel guilty.

I carefully rub her hand, even massaging at times. I would bend over and kiss her arm, her neck every now and again as a distraction and as encouragement.

“So how did you hear about me?” Nick asks. They have exchanged some pleasantries. Nick was trying to make her feel at ease, but he was also shy and it did not come as naturally to him.

She blushes when he asks this, because she has no idea how to answer this question. She takes a moment, while she is squeezing my fingers so hard. “I actually heard about you from Noah.” She says this while looking intently at him for a reaction of any kind. He stopped tattooing and looked her in the eye, a slight rattled look on his calm features. “Noah?” he says while he is processing the information.

“Yeah. Davis.” She says and I can feel how her heart starts beating even faster.

“Wow, I was not expecting to hear that,” he says softly, he looks down like he was just flooded with memories that were now playing through his mind. In that moment, I wanted to comfort him too. “He’s been gone for three years.” A deep furrow formed on his brow.

She nodded solemnly. “He was very fond of the pieces you did for him,” she said, calculatingly giving very little information.

Nick smiled. “He was so young when we did some of it. Fuck, he was so young when he insisted on getting a sleeve on one whole arm.” The smile faded a bit and he sighed. He shook himself and started tattooing again. “He always was an old soul. Insistent on doing what he wanted, how he wanted, when he wanted.” Nick drew a few lines of the tattoo before he asked, “How did you know him?”

She tensed for a moment. I rubbed her back softly. I was feeling every bit of the emotion in the room too. By the looks of things, I was in a room with the two people that I cared about the most. “I did not know him very well before he died,” she told a half lie. “But I just kept dreaming about the tattoo of the Moon Lady and I thought it must mean something.”

He glanced up briefly and then back to his work on her thigh. “Yeah, he dubbed her the Moon Lady,” he laughed. “I designed her special for him. I also helped him fix the mess of a sleeve he had done when he was way too young.” “You two were close?” she asked quietly.

“He was my best friend.” Nick had a sad look on his face. “Since Noah was fifteen, we just hung out all the time. We had some good times. We actually met because he came looking for work at the tattoo parlour I was apprenticing at.” I was listening to every word he was saying, drinking it all in.

“He had such an independent mind,” he continued. “He was playing for a band and he was so sure that music was his future, he dropped out of school and everything…”

“He dropped out at fifteen?” she asked a little shocked.

“Yeah, he was a different one,” Nick smiled. “I miss him.”

The image of the moth that Nick designed for the tattoo was slowly taking shape, her skin was red and she flinched every time he used the rough paper towel to wipe away at the ink and blood. She was in agony, I could tell.

“This is so much more painful than I ever thought it would be,” she whispered to me while we were in the bathroom. She had asked for a break. “I thought I was tougher than this.”

‘You are doing great,” I whisper back.

“I should have just asked for a coffee date or something and spilled the beans right away,” she was splashing herself with cold water, rubbing her neck.

“You are doing fine,” I insist.

“I really am not, Noah,” she huffs. She stares at me for full minute. “Are you fine?” she asks.

“No,” I answer simply. She takes a step closer and goes down on her knees in front of me where I am sitting on the closed toilet. She takes my hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“I feel like I can remember something as soon as he says it. Like he is filling in pieces of a puzzle,” I try to explain. “I want to hug him. Is that silly?”

“No,” she says.

“I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“Maybe you went too big for the first tattoo.”

“Maybe. But everyone always says you should go bigger than you think.”

We kiss there by the toilet in the black and white bathroom, comforting each other as much as we can.

15. You You go back out and smile and grit your teeth through the last end of the shading done on the moth, but you also bite back tears. The whole thing is too much. You are in so much physical pain you are struggling to cope, your heart is going through all the emotions of learning more about Noah. You are also so worried about him and how he might take any news that comes out of this. You are all over the place.

“Tell me more about him,” you prompt.

“He was very private. Only really shared his secrets with the people he was closest to. I don’t remember him ever mentioning you,” Nick’s voice was still soft and kind.

“I’m not trying to pry,” you quickly explain. “I guess I just wish I had the chance to know him before…”

“That accident was tragic,” Nick said. “I could not believe the news when I heard. I was even waiting for him to pat me on the shoulder at his own funeral I was in denial so bad.”

“Slippery roads in the rain, right?” you add.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “But he must have been speeding. Noah was always a very responsible driver. You know, especially after what happened when he was young. When his dad died. He always had respect for the rules, he knew the consequences for being reckless too well. I wish I knew what had happened. Wish I could talk to him again.”

“Do you think something was suspicious?” you ask.

“Sometimes,” Nick sighs. “But I have made peace with the fact that I will never know.”

“Accidents can happen so quickly,” you try to comfort. “I just always hope that he was at peace. That it was quick. That he didn’t suffer.” Once the words were out of your mouth you realise how hard you really did hope that. How much it haunted you that Noah went through a death. You also realise that you have never said this to Noah, because you feel how he rests his head against your shoulder. You want to turn and hug him, hold him.

“God, I hope so too,” Nick says, his voice small. “From the police report it sounds like that it was quick. His injuries were severe.” He stops tattooing for a moment to lean back so that he was looking at the ceiling. Your heart was breaking for both these men.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say.

“If I cry now, I will have to resanitise everything,” he tries to chuckle. He takes a deep breath and continues to tattoo.

You bite back tears yourself, blinking as quickly as you can. You can’t think of what else to say.

“You haven’t said how you know Noah,” he said.

You notice the present tense. “Him and I were talking online. For a few months,” you lie quickly. Knowing that the truth would not go over well at all at his moment. “I had a great time talking to him. It was texts only.” You had to account for your limited knowledge.

“Oh,” Nick says nodding.

You do not say anything again.

You drive back to the guest house, your leg wrapped in cling wrap, taped at the edges, Noah’s hand resting just above the tape. You feel like both of you are hanging by a thin thread and you are quiet all the way. He rubs your thigh comfortingly. You squeeze his fingers back.

As soon as you close the door of the guest house behind you, you and Noah are in each other’s arms, clinging to each other and within seconds of that you start crying, chest heaving for air and then Noah is crying too, burying his face in your neck, his breath hot.

You take his hand after a while and guide him to the couch, where you lie down and he lays next to you on your good leg’s side, his head on your chest. You both cry for a while longer while running your fingers through his hair and rubbing his back. “I feel like I miss him so bad,” Noah says later his voice thick. You kiss his hair. “The connection I felt was insane.”

“He was very kind,” you say.

“I wanted to speak to him and tell him I’m okay,” he sounds defeated.

“We can make a plan,” you reassure him. After a while you whisper your suggestion, knowing it was not great. “We can write him a letter?”

Noah reaches over and pulls up your skirt to expose the tattoo and he lifts his head to look. He absent-mindedly starts picking at the tape around the edges.

“I need to let him know,” he says. “Can we write the letter now? How’s your leg?”

“My leg is fine,” you say. You get up to get your bag and dig out a notebook and a pen. “How do you want to do this? How honest are we going to be?”

Dear Nick I felt the need to clarify a few things. I had no idea how to say these things to you yesterday. I felt like saying it would be disrespectful to you in a way, because I had no idea if you would believe me. I did not want you to feel like I was playing with your emotions. I lied. I did not exchange texts with Noah. He appears to me. He says he has been appearing for years, but I have only been able to notice for a few months now. His ghost, or soul, or presence or essence, I don’t know. I know that is crazy. So does he. But it is true and I don’t know what to tell you about it. He cannot remember a lot of things; he is unclear on a lot of his past and I came to you to try and get some extra information. I felt in the moment that it would be insensitive to tell you this, because then you had to respond to me – and how is anyone supposed to respond?? Noah was with me yesterday during our session. He asked me to say the following in the letter: He cannot remember you as well as he wishes, but that he does remember that you were a person that made him feel seen and safe. He knows that he loved you dearly. He was also so adamant to let you know that he was okay. I am leaving town, I have a long drive home, but should you wish to contact me I will leave my contact details at the end. I will also have breakfast at the restaurant on the corner from your shop, should you wish to talk to me in person. Thank you for doing a great job on the tattoo. Thank you for being so important to Noah when he needed you. Kindest regards

16. Noah I carefully pealed the cling wrap and tape from her leg and then with great care put on an ointment that Nick had suggested. This morning when we woke up the skin was not red anymore and the tattoo looked great almost no scabbing. It was beautiful. I had a viscerally emotional response to it, seeing my friend’s work on her thigh.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“No, just sensitive,” she smiles at me.

We returned to the shop after writing the letter and left it under the wiper blade of his car, we decided that we really did not want to make him uncomfortable and force him into a situation he had no choice being in.

I was so nervous about breakfast, having no idea what to expect. I could tell she was too. She seemed calmer, the adrenaline of the pain from being tattooed out of her system. I think it contributed to her emotional response the previous day. But I still felt nauseous with the need to connect with Nick and it was truly strange.

When the car was packed and we double checked the bathroom for anything we might have left behind, we quietly drove to the restaurant. She picked a table at the back, a little secluded but sat in a spot where she could see the door, should he decide to show up.

She ordered coffee. I had my hand on her thigh. She had pulled the skirt up to expose the tattoo, to get relief from the material touching the sensitive skin. I traced the outline gently. I could tell she wanted to talk, she was crawling in her own skin again, fidgeting with a straw wrapper that was on the table. The coffee came and she slowly sipped at it.

“I’m not even hungry,” she whispers. But we need to kill time. So, she ordered something, just so we could stay a little longer.

“If he doesn’t show,” I say, sighing, “It’s okay. This was never a guaranteed success anyway.”

“Yeah,” she sounds defeated. I love her for helping me with this. I want to tell her but instead I kiss her cheek and she gives me a weak smile.

And then Nick walks through the door.

She stands immediately, waving him over.

He did not smile. He just walked over, his hands buried deep in his pockets and he looked everywhere except at her. He seemed like he had had no sleep. He slides into the seat opposite her still looking away.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” he answers.

The waiter shows up and takes his order for orange juice.

“You need to explain that letter you left me,” he says looking her in the eye for the first time. “It was messing with me all night.”

She nods. “I know that what I said is crazy. I am aware. But it is true. I don’t have an explanation of how it is possible. I am not a psychic or any of that shit.”

“How do you communicate with him?” he asks.

“You believe me?”

“I did not say that.”

She grimaces, but steels herself before she begins. “At first it was small things, like sounds I heard in my house, things not where I left them, touches, whispers. For a very long time, I was convinced that it was my mind playing tricks on me. But eventually, he was more in control of himself and we could start talking and he could touch me. It got to the point where I had to accept it regardless of how I felt. He became a comforting presence to me.”

Nick was quiet for a moment absorbing what she said. “You said he couldn’t remember much?”

“No, he can’t. So, I starting having dreams, like he was giving them to me. I dreamt of you one night, giving him the Moon Lady tattoo and it was so real, the details the way you two were joking around. Then I started to take all the clues and I started putting the puzzle together. I am not explaining this very well.” She takes a few big gulps of her coffee.

His orange juice and her breakfast arrive, they both ignore their orders.

“You said he was there yesterday?” he asks.

She simply nods.

He leans forward, holding his head in one hand. “I could have sworn that I saw him yesterday. Almost from the corner of my eye, you know. Part of why I was so emotional talking about him to you. But I was sure it was just because our conversation was about him”

Her eyes went wide. “We didn’t know whether you would be able to see him or hear him.”

“He is okay?” Nick asks his voice thick.

“Yeah,” she says.

I feel my heart clench so much it hurts. I get up and stand behind him. I make eye contact with her before I carefully place my hand on his shoulder. He tensed immediately and I felt elated that he could feel it.

“Is he…?”

“Yes,” she says.

He brings his hand up and places it over mine. “Jesus,” he says giving a nervous laugh.

“It’s just Noah,” I say quietly. He heard me. He twists around, stands and grabs at me and we hug so tight.

“This is fucking weird,” he says.

“You need to be cool, people might look,” she says, but she is beaming.

We release the hug and he awkwardly looks around, because he couldn’t see me. “I miss you,” he says.

“I miss you,” I whisper back.

He sits back down and I sit next to him. She picks up a fork and starts eating her breakfast, the tension gone from her face.

“Can you remember the crash?” Nick whispers.

17. You You watched for about a solid hour while they spoke and caught up. The friendship that they shared was obvious to you, as they were so at ease with each other, despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the time apart, despite literal death. Noah’s eyes had a sparkle to them and it made you so happy to see. It was strange to see him interact with someone else, but it was so humanising. You said very little and were happy to just watch the two of them and absorb Noah’s laugh.

Eventually you had to leave though. Nick took you to his car where he had a box that he handed to you. “I packed this last night,” he said making eye contact with you. “I wasn’t sure I was going to give it you,” he looked down. “But I think you will both really learn a lot from it.”

You gave Nick a long, tight hug and thanked him many times. Noah and Nick hugged quickly. You promised to keep in touch.

“That was great,” Noah said his voice sad.

“That went a million times better than we ever hoped for,” you said.

“It did,” he said. “I can’t believe that he could actually feel me, that we could speak. I have never felt as real as I did when you could both hear me.” His voice grew soft at the end.

You reach over and gently take his hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours. “We will make a plan and see him again. I can absolutely see how the two of you were friends.”

“Are,” he corrects you. “We are friends.”

“Yeah,” you smile. You keep your eyes on the road, but you want to look into his eyes. You knew this was a lot to handle. “I am dying to know what’s in the box.”

“Me too,” he says.

“You open it, we have a long way to go still. Could kill some time.”

He drops a kiss to your hand before he reaches back to retrieve the shoe box. He settles it on his lap and stares at it for a while. You say nothing. He carefully lifts the lid of the box and slowly pushes it back. “Well fuck,” he breathes. “What?” you ask, sneaking peaks at the box.

“You drive,” he points through the windscreen towards the road. “I’ll give details.”

“Okay,” you snort.

“Right so, it seems like some of my stuff,” he says. “Hang on.” He digs through the things in the box.

“Noah,” you say in frustration after a while.

“Alright, alright, biggest item is this shirt.” He takes it out and shakes it out so you could look quickly. “It is a white shirt and it has a picture of…. It looks like Jesus and the devil playing basketball.” He laughs. “That is so cool.”

“Give me,” you take it and immediately smell it. Spicy and clean. “Mmmm, smells like you.” You keep the shirt on your lap.

“Then we have a beaded necklace with a big cross on, some bracelets, a plain gold ring.” He holds each piece and waits for you to look. He studies each item with care. Taking his time with each piece. “Here’s a copy of Into the Wild,” he flips through the pages of the book.

You were speechless. These few items meant the world. It was such a generous thing of Nick to do.

“Here is a flash drive also,” he says his voice sounding almost scared.

“The laptop is behind my seat.” You feel nervous.

Again, he rummages around in the back to take out the laptop. It takes a moment for him to boot it up and settle back. “What do you think this is?”

“Probably photos,” you say.

“Why am I scared of this?”

“Because whatever it is, it was your life,” you say gently. “Take your time.”

“Can I just say thank you to you first?” he says. “Thank you for doing this. Being there for me.”

You steal a glance at him. “Of course,” you say. “I feel honoured that I am allowed to witness this.”

“I love you,” he says his voice deep. “Do you know that?”

Your heart beats faster instantly, you feel it trying to climb up through your throat. Why would he say this while you are driving? You want to stare into his eyes and hold him and comfort him. You slow the car down and pull off next to the road. He seems confused by your actions. Once the car is fully stationary, you undo your seatbelt and practically climb over to him as much as you can and you wrap your arms around his neck. You press your face into his neck and breathe in his smell. “I love you,” you whisper. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you so tight.

You start peppering his neck in small kisses heading towards his jaw. You feel him smile and your heart swells. Kisses along his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his eyebrows. Finally, he takes your face between his large hands, his hands resting over your ears and he kisses you firmly, you feel him swallow. Then his tongue is gently at your lips and you kiss him back, opening up to him. The kiss is tender and he smiles into it and it makes you feel out of breath. When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours for a few moments.

“Thank you for pulling the car over before doing that,” he whispers against your cheek with a giggle.

You laugh. “My pleasure.”

“Also mine,” he laughs. “But seriously, did you hear me?”

You nod, eyes locked with his. “Did you hear me?”

He nods. “I’m not even real, though. How can you love me?”

“You are more real to me than anything,” you say.

18. Noah I insert the flash drive into the laptop. We were on the road again. She turns her head and smiles at me while I watch her drive. I see the sparkle in her eye, and the emotions she feels for me are written on her face and she shows it to me without hesitation. Never can I express how that feels – the words do not exist to explain the feeling shattering my heart and then lovingly putting each piece back in its place. My heart that does not exist either. It’s almost painful. And it’s the best feeling. I should have told her that I loved her with flowers and music and grand gestures. But I needed her to know so badly in that moment.

“Are you okay?” she asks, suddenly frowning.

“I just love you so much,” I say as explanation.

“Noah,” she smiles. “I love you, too. But is this too much for you? We can wait until we get home. We can wait as long as you want.”

I take a moment to think about it. “Honestly, I want you to be able to look with me. I don’t want you driving, I want you holding my hand when I do this.”

She reaches out her hand and I take it. “Okay,” she says. “We wait.”

I kiss her hand. “I can offer you other entertainment?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Eye spy?” I say, trying to think of other games. She laughs and I think that I live for that sound. But I do not. I exist for that sound.

“I have a better idea,” she giggles. “Go pick a playlist with older music and then we guess the song. We see how much you can remember.”

“Interesting, you want to compete with me,” I say, starting to search for playlists. “If it is a banger, we play it through and see who knows the most lyrics.”

She nods with a big smile. She has my shirt wrapped around her neck like a scarf, she keeps smelling it.

We play the game and she drives. We sing along to songs, laugh when we get it wrong. We argue about which songs qualify as bangers. I feed her dried apples and sips of water. I watch as she walks to the bathroom when we stop for a break and she adds a desperate running step because she couldn’t wait any longer. She comes back with marshmallows and a coffee.

We got home and we unloaded the car with heavy limbs. She kept stretching and rubbing her butt, saying that she sat it completely flat. I assured her it was just as delicious as it was before.

As I stood under the spray of water from the shower head and I felt the water pelt my skin, the water droplets running down my body, I wonder if I really feel it, or whether I was just so in the moment, so desperate that I made it real in my head. I wish there were a rule book and that I could understand. But then I shake myself and decide that I should stop wasting my time on wondering. Enjoy the warmth of the water while you can feel it, Noah. Let yourself feel cleansed by the soap, Noah. Just stop thinking so goddamn much.

When I enter the bedroom, she is under the covers, pillows arranged how she likes it, her eyes gently closed. She must be tired. Ambient light is all that covers the room in a soft, warm glow.

I lift the covers and settle behind her, inching my way closer and closer until I was right up against her body and I put my arm around her waist and I put my face in her neck. “Hey, baby.”

She hums in response, her head tilting to allow me more access to her neck. I kiss her neck repeatedly and slowly and go up her jaw.

“You still awake?” I ask eventually.

“I am,” she whispers. She sounds slightly out of breath. She squirms and, in the process, pushes her butt back against me and I gasp in response. The sensation sends shivers down my spine and makes me achingly aware of my groin.

I take a deep breath to calm myself down a little. My hand goes under the shirt she is wearing and I feel her bare skin, soft and smooth. “Is this okay?” I ask.

“Yes,” she breathes.

I run my fingers over her waist with light touches, slowly working my way higher until I can feel the flesh of her breasts and then I take my time touching, squeezing and holding them. I feel her hardened nipples against my palm and I drink in every heavy breath she takes and releases. Her hips ever so slightly pushing back against me consistently. “My god,” I moan in her ear. “These are so perfect.” I kiss and suck at her neck. Rational thought was leaving me rapidly. “Come here,” I pant and I make room for her to turn onto her back and then I immediately lean in and over her and kiss her. My hand is still palming her breast.

She kisses me back with so much passion that I am overwhelmed for a few seconds. She has her hands on my shoulders, rubbing along them softly, in contrast with the way her tongue is running along my lips with fervour. “Noah,” she says.

‘Yes, baby?”

“Please, Noah.”

“What do you want? Tell me?” I pull back and make eye contact with her, making sure I hear what she is about to say.

“I need you,” she sobs almost. I have to kiss her solidly before I pull back again.

“What do you need?”

“You, all of you,” she says, her leg hooking around mine and she runs her hands down my back, lower and lower. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”

“Alright,” I nod and I push her shirt up and she lifts her shoulders just enough that I get it off and I slowly drag the shirt down her arms and then she is bare and I cannot breathe. I immediately lower my mouth and kiss a line between her breasts before I kiss one while my hand is on the other. I lick around her nipple, my tongue leaving shiny wet spots in its wake. I glance up and her head is thrown back, her eyes closed. “Hey,” I whisper to her and she looks down. “Keep your eyes on me,” I say. I flatten my tongue and glide it across the hardened bud of her nipple and she moans, then I bite down very softly and she grabs my hair.

“Can I take off your underwear?” I say locking eyes with her. She bites her lip and nods. I move my body and move the blankets so I can reach her and I trail my fingers down her stomach and to her hips, and I slide my finger under the elastic and pull them down her hips. “Lift,” I say and I grip it and drag it down and she lifts her legs up so can remove them more easily. I look at her to make sure she was still okay with all of this, and I see she is nervous. But her eyes also look at me with dark hunger. “You still okay with this?”

“I am,” she squeaks.

“You sure?” I say, standing up on my knees on the bed. She nods. “I am going to ask you to open these legs for me, love. Are you okay with that?” I say this sternly. I need her to understand that my intentions were far from pure. She looks me in my eyes and I see her swallow heavily.

“I am so sure,” she whimpers.

Relief and arousal floods through me at the same time. “Thank fuck,” I breathe and then, “Open.” I grab one ankle and help to place it far away from the other and I maneuver both of us so there’s a bit more space for me and I settle down between her legs. I could already see her arousal glistening in the faint light. Salivating, I kiss her soft inner thighs and hook my one arm around her upper thigh, holding her in place. Then I take a finger, the same finger that has already been inside of her, and run it up and down spreading her arousal. She responds by squirming a little, she is biting her lip. I use my hand to spread her open slightly and then I press my tongue to her and I am overcome with her taste and emotions and the feeling of my cock becoming even harder. I lick up to her clit and then gently suck on it and she bucks her hips, and I feel victorious. “You taste so good,” I say. I drag my tongue down and it sinks into her wet mess at her opening and I drink her in. “So very wet,” I say as I suck on her again. Her hips start to move, it seems, of their own accord and she lets out little moans and she reaches down and grabs my hair. I am so into that. “Noah, oh my god,” she cries. I feel like a god between her legs.

“You want my fingers?” I ask.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

I slowly and carefully push two fingers into her and I hold my breath as I feel her insides clench around them. I pump them in and out of her slowly and curl my fingers and she is moaning, and just like the previous time she tries to close her legs but my body is in the way. “Baby, take my hand,” I reach my free hand up and she takes it and grips it. “Is it too much?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she moans, “It feels so good.”

“Grip my hand tighter when it gets too much. I need you to hold on for me,” I look her in the eye. “I am going to keep going, okay?”

She nods and I pump my fingers again and then I lower my mouth and lick over her clit and when I feel her hips move and her grip on my hand tighten, I lick faster and harder and I keep going until she tells me that she is going to come and I keep going. Her hips lose rhythm and I look up at her and watch her utter beauty as she comes apart against my mouth. She brings her free hand up and clamps it over her mouth and I still hear her cries.

When she stills, I remove my fingers from her and climb up towards her so I can kiss her. She is breathing heavily, so am I. I kiss her tenderly, and she responds eagerly, her hands traveling all over my arms, shoulders and back. “I don’t know how this will work,” I say as I dare to look down at myself. “But can I please, please fuck you?” I bury my face in her neck, I have to concentrate to not just mindlessly rub against any part of her.

She pulls back from me and hold my face between her hands and she looks in my eyes for a moment, looking back and forth between my eyes. Love radiates from her and she pulls my face down to kiss my nose. “What do you need from me?” she whispers. “I need to be inside you, as soon as I can possibly manage,” I smile at her.

“What did you mean you don’t know how it works?” she says looking concerned.

“I just mean because I am a spirit. A ghost. I don’t know. But, honestly, the boner feels very, very real to me.”

“Yeah?” she asks and her hand is feeling me over the boxer briefs I have on. I have to squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the feeling. “Feels real to me too. Hang on.” She lifts up slightly and pushes the briefs down a bit so I am free from the constraint. She wraps her hand around me slowly and pumps up and down a few times excruciatingly slow. She lets go and her index finger teasingly swipes up the bead of pre-come from my tip and she sucks it off of her finger and if I was not already dead….

“Christ!”

“Definitely real,” she giggles. “Fuck, I didn’t expect you to taste that good,” her face suddenly serious.

“Um, thank you, baby, but we do not have time for you to taste more,” I say quickly. “I am already about to explode and I haven’t even been near to being inside of you.”

She lifts up and kisses me again. She is sloppy this time, running her tongue along my bottom lip. “I don’t mind waiting,” she whispers.

“Lay back,” I tell her and she keeps looking at my face with such adoration. I rip the briefs off and then I take a hold of myself and run my cock up and down her a few times, across her clit spreading the wetness a bit, she throws her arms up above her head and sighs loudly. “You ready? I’ll go nice and slow.”

“I’m ready,” and she wraps her legs around my hips trying to encourage me closer.

I slowly and carefully push past the resistance at her entrance and keep going until I am completely buried inside the heat and clenching wetness. I literally could not breathe. I fall forward on top of her, my elbows trying to keep some of my weight off her. Her arms wrap around me immediately, her thighs gripping me and she peppers my face with kisses while I struggle to inhale. “You are fucking perfect,” I manage to get out. “Perfect.” She started squirming under me. “Please,” I choke out. “Wait a second. I need to calm down.”

She patiently rubs my shoulders while she licks at my neck. “I love you,” she whispers in my ear.

“I love you,” I sob into her skin.

She soothingly rubs my back and I hear her take a deep breath near my ear and then she exhales slowly and then deep breath in again and without a word, I join her breathing and then I start feeling like I have a bit of control back. So, I start moving just a little and work up to a steady rhythm and she opens her legs wider and clings to my arms. “You feel so good,” she gasps and I cannot believe that this is real, and I have to tell myself that I had better not start overthinking.

I lift myself up a bit so can have more leverage and I look down at her face contorted with pleasure, her body beneath me, the body that I have been looking at for years, never dreaming this would be possible, the body that I knew I was lucky to just be able to briefly touch in a moment of realness and here it was – gorgeous and writhing with me deeply inside of it. I fuck her harder and slightly faster and I hear the slap of skin on skin. She cries out and swears and moans. And this, I think, could not possible feel any better if I had been alive. Suddenly, she makes eye contact with me and she nods with very small movements and her hand sneaks down between us and she touches herself. “Fuck, baby that’s so hot,” I say to her. “I am not going to last much longer.” “Please,” she says and she tries to sit up and reaches up for me, so I lower myself down so I can kiss her and she kisses me. “I am coming,” she says. I grab her hand and we kind of lose control at the same time and I still most of my movements and she is twitching and gripping me so tight and it lasts so long. She bites my shoulder and then licks it to sooth the bite. I stay inside her and collapse and our breaths are hot and heavy.

“Baby, just let me stay inside a little longer,” I say because I am so sensitive. She jolts every few seconds as aftershocks go through her. “I love you,” I tell her again because I need her to know so badly. How much she means to me. “I love you.” “I love you so much,” she rubs my shoulders again and then starts running her fingers over my back lightly scratching. Goosebumps form over my whole body.

“I don’t need heaven, ever,” I whisper in her ear. “I have already found mine.”

19. You You wake up and you smell him, your face resting against his shoulder blade, your naked body curled up around his, his back to you, your arm around his waist and you are holding on to him like your life depended on it. When you open your eyes, you realise that your breasts are pressed up against Jesus’ face on his back and you cannot help but smile at that.

For a long time, you just admire his broad shoulders with a dusting of freckles where the tattoos do not cover his skin. You look at where he has slept his hair into standing at odd angles. You listen to him breathe, slow and even with a slight whistle when he inhales through his nose. When you move your feet a little, you feel the course hair on his legs. Every single part of him was so absurdly perfect. Except when your brain starts thinking, again, that he is dead. You press your hand to his chest, press it firmly. You do not feel a heartbeat.

When he stirs a while later, he turns to face you with a dopey smile on his face. His face is slightly swollen from sleep, his lips are puffy. His lips are a part of him that you have been greatly underappreciating. They are just so kissable. His eyes are squinted almost shut. Beautiful.

“Hey,” he croaks and moves closer so he can hold you, his long arms wrapping around you and his mouth resting against your forehead. “How are you doing?”

“Mmm, I feel great,” you say. “And you?”

“Oh, I am so very good and great and relaxed and wonderful,” he smiles against your face.

You laugh and kiss his chin. “You are so warm,” you say as you snuggle closer.

“And you smell amazing. You always do in the mornings.”

“You smell me in the mornings?”

“Absolutely, I do,” he says and drags his nose along your face until its buried in your hair.

You lay in comfortable silence and almost fall back asleep when he says, “That flash drive is haunting me.”

“Shall I go get it?” you ask. You have thought about it, but there have also been many other things on your mind. The way he kept calling you baby the previous evening being one of the things.

“I will, I’m just nervous still.”

“I have to go to the bathroom anyway. And I am ready to hold your hand. But if you want to wait, that is also fine, you know that.”

“Okay,” he says apprehensively. You search and find your shirt that was flung off you and pulled it over your head. “Leave the underwear,” he says pouting at you.

You make sure to pull the shirt down as low as it would go when you leave to the bathroom first, and then to go find that laptop where the flash drive is still inserted.

Noah is already sitting up and he has arranged the pillows for you both to be comfy. You climb in get under the covers and scoot closer and you place the laptop on both your laps. “You do it,” he says.

“Okay,” you run your finger along the mousepad and click to open the folder. Inside are photos, videos and audio files. You just know that whatever you are about to see is going to make you cry. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “We can stop whenever you want. Where do you want to start?”

“Photos.”

You click and then you start clicking through the album and it was already a lot to handle. Many photos of Noah with friends, you only recognise Nick. Photos of Noah where he was so young. Photos with his skin in varying stages of being tattooed. His hair in different styles. There many photos of him making silly faces, many with him holding musical instruments, many with animals.

Noah was quiet for the most part, only commenting occasionally. “Is that a dermal piercing?”

“It looks like,” you smile.

The two of you can only guess at the other people. Noah tells you that some of the people look familiar, but he could not really place them.

So, then you go over to videos.

Videos were mostly of him hanging out with his friends, making jokes, being silly, drinking, making music. Many videos of Noah singing, some, where was very young, singing songs, clearly still finding his feet. But as Noah ages in the videos his talent becomes more and more pronounced. His voice improving, the songs improving. Videos of him playing guitar, playing keyboard, making music on the computer.

Noah would hide his face with some videos and with others, he would nod his head along with the sounds. You loved the insight this gave. The details neither of you would have ever known.

Until the video that started playing was a slideshow.

Noah gripped your hand slightly tighter and you squeezed back as images cycled with a Matchbox Twenty song playing. Tears were rolling down your face silently as you couldn’t help but imagine being at the funeral, knowing that you have lost this man. At the same time, you know that it happened.

Noah eventually stopped the video when he could not take it anymore. His head dropped down and you moved closer. He turned and buried his face in your neck and you held him as close as you could manage. A few sobs shook his body and then you couldn’t hold it back anymore either. You could guess what he was feeling. He didn’t have to say anything. The loss of everyone he knew, the life he knew and mostly himself. This life that he could not really remember.

He fell asleep after a while, you running your fingers through his hair slowly.

Later he softly kissed your neck and whispers, “How do you think we would have met?”

You think for a moment before you say, “Me getting a tattoo and you coming by to visit Nick. Or maybe at a concert, in the crowd.”

“By the looks of how rowdy my friends and I seemed to get, you could have been a neighbour that complained about the noise,” he adds.

“Maybe just at the grocery store, I would have been checking you out for sure.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Definitely.”

“We could have both been hiding from people in a social situation,” he grips your hand.

“Oh, I can see that,” you smile.

“We will never know, and that kills me,” he whispers.

You resist making a comment about that. “But we did meet. It might not have been the way it should have happened, but you found me regardless.”

“That is true,” he takes a few breaths. “I would have been staring at you too, by the way. In the grocery store.”

“Thanks,” you laugh.

20. Noah The thought plagues me non-stop. I don’t want to think it, I actively try not to, but just keeps coming up. For days and days when I am with her, when I am not, I keep wondering. I try to leave her alone a little bit, to see if it goes away. But it doesn’t.

“Noah,” she calls out into the living room. She is reading a book on the couch, but she looks up and keeps searching for me.

Maybe now is the time to bring it up. I walk closer and reach out my hand to her and she takes it. She moves over and I sit next to her.

“Are you okay?” she asks it very quietly. She knows something is eating me. Then new thoughts about how well she knows me crashes around in my head and I don’t know what I even want to say. “Something is bothering you,” she states. “Did I do something wrong?”

My heart breaks. “No,” I kiss the back of her hand. “But I have been thinking about something lately and I have to just tell you.”

She just nods. Her mouth is already turning down slightly, her eyes jumping back and forth between mine. I take both her hands in mine and turn towards her more. I can hear her take a breath and hold it. I look down at her knees.

“I am terrified that I am keeping you from living your life,” I say, still looking down. She says nothing. “What if you should be having a moment meeting a real live human being you should be dating? What if you spend too much time with me and you miss the life you should be living?”

She still keeps quiet, I can hear her breathing has picked up, but I cannot bring myself to look at her.

“I am sure you are my soulmate,” I carry on. “But maybe I am not yours. Maybe we never would have met, maybe I just died and you have another soulmate out there waiting for you.”

“What are you saying?” she finally speaks. Her voice is small.

“I don���t want to selfishly hold you back,” I say.

Tears splash down onto her arms and our hands and I look. Her bottom lip is trembling and a steady stream of tears are running down her face. “This sounds like you are saying you don’t want to be here with me anymore.”

“It’s not about what I want,” I try.

“It is, though,” she states.

“I want what is best for you.”

“And you don’t think that it’s you?”

“I am considering the possibility,” I whisper.

“Have I given you any indication that I need more than you?”

I keep quiet this time. I am hurting her and it was not my intention.

She cries audibly and I hear her breath catch and feel her shake. “Do you want to leave?” she asks simply.

“No,” I start. “Noah,” she interrupts me. “Don’t bullshit me right now. Tell me the hard truth. Do you want to leave?”

I take a moment to think how to phrase this. “With my whole heart, I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” she wipes her tears and takes a shaky breath. “Here are my thoughts,” and she touches my cheek until I make eye contact and then drops her hand. Her stare is intense and the tears are threatening. “You do not get to choose for me. It’s that simple. You make decisions about what you want and I make decisions about what I want.” She waits for it to sink into my head. “I need you to stop being noble, or whatever, and just understand that I can tell you to fuck off if I want to.”

I nod. “Alright.”

“If I am your soulmate, you are mine. I know the situation is not ideal. I know it’s weird and neither of us know how this works. But I love you. And fuck you for saying all that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know what you meant,” she says, “And I need you to trust me. Trust that I will be honest with you if I need something to change. Do you think I haven’t thought about these things? That maybe I am holding you back from heaven or some shit?”

“You are heaven,” I smile.

“Shut up, Noah,” she whispers. “All I know is we have this, whatever it is. I know I love you and I know that I choose you over all things living. It hurts me that you think I would be better off with someone else. That I need to go look for someone that isn’t you.”

“It kills me to think that,” I say quickly. “I hate the thought.”

“So, stop it,” she says taking my face in her hands. “Stop trying to fix everything. Stop thinking so much. This is immensely fucked up, but it is our fucked up and we get to make it of it what we choose.”

I smile at her. I place my hands over hers. She kisses me quickly. “You are too wise.”

“You need to stop letting these thoughts fester and then run away with you.”

“I realise I can overthink sometimes,” I sigh.

‘You think?” she wasn’t even smiling.

21. You You gasp awake, immediately trying to sit up, your breath hitching as pain ripped through your chest. It felt like you couldn’t inhale as the images of your dream is all you can see. Your limbs tangle in the blankets and the darkness has you confused.

“Shhhhh,” he says next you as he tries to get a hold of you, but you thrash against him and you have an overwhelming feeling that you needed to run, get away. Then you hear the sob tear through your throat. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He is persistent in his efforts to touch you, tether you to reality. Despite your violent movements, he gets a grip on you and he gently pulls you closer. Slowly, with your body fighting with all its might, you give in and allow him.

You begin to realise that it was a dream. A terrible dream, but it still hurt so bad. It still felt real. You felt the rain on your body, how the water drenched through your clothes, how it weighed down your hair that stuck to your neck and forehead. You could smell the fuel, the wind blowing, and the smell of tyres that had been desperately braked too hard. You saw the puddles of water and how the lights reflected in it. But most horrifically you saw him, your Noah, trapped in a car. His head was limply hanging against his chest, blood running down his brow. You walk closer and try to open the door of the car to get to him, but your hands to through the door like you were a ghost. You see inside that his arm was clearly broken and that his body was strangely close to the steering wheel where the airbag had deflated. His body looked wrong, broken. He was unsuccessfully trying to take a breath, with weak, jerky movements. You watched him die. Watched as the little bit of life drained out of him and he went still.

The horror and desperation were all that you could begin to process. You would give anything, absolutely anything, to turn back time, to replace your body with his. You wanted to scream to whoever was listening that they could have whatever they wanted, if you could save him. You wanted to climb into the car and fix him, you wanted to climb in and join him. Your entire being wanted to correct this mistake.

“Is it a bad dream?” his voice says next to you.

You cling to him with all your might, your sobs now so heavy that you could not talk or explain or breathe.

He rubs your back, holds you back and whispers in your ear that everything is alright, that he is there when you are ready to tell him. He soothingly hushes you.

You could not even feel relief that he was there, that it was him that was right there. Because you knew that what you dreamt was what happened. This beautiful soul that was comforting you, had really died right there, his chest crushed during the impact. But you weren’t there to help or even witness it. He had been all alone. Your heart was broken, because you would have endured all of that if it meant that he not been alone. You would have died right next to him if you could.

After what felt like hours, the sobs had stopped, but the tears still ran down your cheeks and into his shirt. Your face felt hot and swollen. “Do you want to know how you died?”

So, you tell him as gently as you could. He was quiet while he was stroking your hair, listening to the whole story without a word.

“I don’t remember any of this,” he says his voice small and very soft. “But,” he swallows. “I do remember feeling calm when I died. I have no memory of what happened to my body, but I remember that I didn’t feel alone, or scared. It felt like someone was there to help me through it.”

“Like God?” you ask.

He was quiet again for a very long time. “Maybe it was you.”

You look up at his face in confusion.

“How could you have known what happened if I can’t even remember it now? Maybe your soul was there with me. Looking after me and helping me die. Maybe our souls have been entwined for a lot longer than we thought.”

You did not know what to make of what he said. But you liked the idea that even if you couldn’t save him, you were there for him in a way.

“I wish I could have saved you,” you croak.

“You did, love.”

[End]

Bonus Chapter (kind of)

[voltronisanobsession]

Hii, I hope you are having a good day or night! I've recently read your platonic yandere voltron things. And I was wondering if you would make some more headcanons? Or stories with platonic yandere? Here are some ideas you could write either a few headcanons or a story about, for if you have low inspiration. Kidnapped reader with platonic yandere voltron, maybe by an alien species who wanted to help the reader? How would the team react? What would they do? Or maybe the reader get really sick which isn't easily cured cue the panic from the team? Again, just so you know I really like your work! So keep up the good work, and thank you for making your works in the first place! Take good care of yourself, and stay hydrated!

Yandere Voltron’s Reaction to Reader being Taken

O M G DONT EVEN PLAY WITH ME RNNNN!!!! I absolutely LOVE yandere voltron like they’re so fun to write for🤞😜 I love the idea of the group just going crazy if reader were to escape UGHH

tysm pookie, take care of yourself too and ENJOY THIISSSS

OK YOU JUST SPURRED IDEAS INTO MY HEAD

I can already imagine the group going crazy when reader suddenly gets swept up right from their grasp out of nowhere by some random spaceship

I know you said some kind of an alien species taking reader but hear me out

It’s LOTOR AND HIS LITTLE GROUPIES OOOOO

It’s painfully obvious that you’re the real star in voltron seeing as how possessive and protective they are of you, hiding you away whenever danger is nearby

So it only makes sense to Lotor to just kidnap you as leverage for his plans

Little did he know that you would be THANKING him for taking you away from the group lmao😭

Imagine your tied up and homeboys getting ready to explain his super mastermind plan to you when all of a sudden you start rambling about how good it feels to be away from them

“Nothing personal, you were the only thing holding that sad excuse of a team together, so I needed you out of the picture for now.” Cue smirk

“UGH THANK GOD! I was literally starting to lose my mind in there, you have no IDEA how needy they all are.”

Now cue a dumbfounded Lotor

He was not expecting reader to be so relaxed considering how he just snatched you up out of nowhere

You’re just chilling while looking around his ship, maybe making conversation with his generals

You finally get a break from the constant attention and possessiveness, ANYTHING is better than being around the group

While you’re happily talking your voice away with Lotor a group, everyone in the castle is freaking the fuck out

It’s bad enough that they let you slip away from their grasp, it’s worse knowing it was Lotor who took you away💀

We all know how Lance feels about Lotor so I think he would have one of the more extreme reactions to you being taken away

Probably starts pointing fingers and starts blaming everyone for not being able to keep you safe

Lowkey begins targeting Keith because it’s somehow always his fault when something goes wrong💀💀

Lance might even starting crying and wailing out for you with Hunk when the situation finally hits him

Keith is also another one to have a more violent outburst during and after your disappearance

He’s someone I see with strong emotions that he doesn’t know how to handle yet so we already know how he might act

Agitated? Yes. Scared? For you, yeah. Furious? Oh honey absolutely.

Keith might have almost caught you too, but he didn’t. He’s so angry with everything and mostly himself that’s he’s pushing everyone else’s buttons, trying to convince the group that the only right choice is immediately going after you

He’s too anxious now that you’re not in his line of sight, making him kinda desperate to get you back again

Hear me out but I think the calmest ones would PROBABLY be Shiro and Pidge

Now I’m not saying that they’re CALM but they have the nerves mostly in tact

They’re already trying to locate where you are with the secret tracker that have on you so it doesn’t really benefit them to try and blame someone for what happened to you

Pidge’s hands shake while she’s working her whizz tho. She has to type, erase, and retype every now and then because of how nervous and anxious she is

She’s so used to having you around that now her brain can’t function properly without you

She doesn’t want to lose you like how she lost her brother and father so Pidge is trying her best to have a one track mind

Shiro on the other hand is more level headed

He really does try to calm the group down as best as he could but with Lance and Hunk crying, Keith yelling at them to get up and do something, Pidge taking a long time to track you down, and Allura and Coran seemingly in an entire different universe, he can’t help but feel the pressure of this disaster falling on his shoulders

This man is ready to just end Lotor when they find him like I’m not even joking

Everyone is getting on this man’s nerves and knowing that you’re trapped with Voltrons enemy doesn’t really make him feel any better

Hunk might even strike fear into Shiro while he’s babbling on about if you’re hurt or not, if they’re torturing you to get any information out of you etc

Poor Hunk is a flood gate at this point. One moment you’re right next to him and the next you’re not

He’s having a complete meltdown in a corner, maybe trying to comfort himself with a small picture of a selfie you both took together

This dude is already imagining all these terrible scenarios you could possibly be in which makes him feel even more terrible

Quite literally feels like he’s gonna throw up now when he begins thinking about how he’ll never see you again

Allura and Coran are surprising quite and calm during all this

They’d keep to themselves but know that they’re going through some extreme inner turmoil

It’s kind of like Allura disconnected herself from the world ever since you’ve been taken

Her skin itches to run out and grab a pod to find you herself but she knows it’s a brash idea

The only thing she does is mull over the idea of making Lotor regret messing with Voltron

BUT TO MAKE A LONG STORY SHORTT

They are willing to do anything to get you back, not caring for the description they’ll leave along the way

The longer your gone the less control and stability they’ll have as a group

Desperate and irrational are some words to describe them during your being away from them

They will stop at nothing to have you back with them, some more destructive and violent than others

No one holds back when getting you back from Lotor, leaving his ships wrecked and forcing him to put his plans on pause as he recovers

Who knows, maybe him and his group might’ve grown similar possessive feelings towards you as well with the time you spent with them? HMMMM

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah I’m sad so can you make me even more sad? But with Harry plz🥺

Hiii babes!! I’m sorry you’re sad but I hope you enjoy this? Also remember you asked me for this so like I don’t wanna hear no complaining okay? I’m kidding you can yell at me if you want it’s fine😂💖

A/N: Harry is always there when you need him but this might be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, enjoy this super short but not very sweet Harry blurb✨

Harry smiles at a few people as he walks through the venue, giving a nod of acknowledgment at some familiar faces who shoot him a friendly wave from their seats when he walks by. He stops in front of a table that has a giant bouquet of flowers on it, but these aren’t just any flowers these are the flowers that you spent a good two weeks trying to find someone that could make an arrangement out of that didn’t look too tacky or boring because you had a vision in your head and refused to settle so Harry quickly pulls the crystal vase a little to the left so it’s perfectly center before he continues on his way. As he turns the corner so he’s facing a long hallway he suddenly gets hit with the memory of the two of you initially touring this venue, he didn’t think it was the one because to be honest it left a bit to be desired but he knew the moment he saw you standing in the middle of the empty space with that smile on your face, the one that makes the crinkles by your eyes appear that you loved it.

You told him what you imagined the space to look like on the big day and while at the time he couldn’t really see it, now that he’s walking through it he can’t imagine this day taking place anywhere else. The lighting is warm but not too warm that everything looks yellow, it’s just the right amount of warmth that makes everything feel a bit cozier while the floor to ceiling windows allow the soft green of the hills of California to be the perfect backdrop to what’s about to happen in just a few minutes. Harry knows that you’ll be happy with how everything has turned out, that what you envisioned in your head all those months ago has come to life and he can’t wait to see your face when you get to see it all for the first time. He’s been with you every step of the way throughout this whole process but that’s to be expected given his role in your life, he wouldn’t have it any other way or well he would possibly change a thing or two if he could go back in time but sadly he can’t so he takes what he can get with a smile on his face.

He looks down at his watch on his right wrist and lets out a deep sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, careful not to be too rough since he did spend a good amount of time making sure it looked decent after putting on his suit an hour ago. He walks a little further down the hallway until he finds the door he’s looking for, Harry pauses for a moment and closes his eyes and takes a few calming breathes before opening his eyes then he lifts a hand up and knocks twice before putting his hand on the doorknob.

“Love?” He pokes his head in when he doesn’t get a response to his knocks after a few moments and when he doesn’t see you he raises an eyebrow as he fully enters the room, closing the door behind him. “Are you dress-”

“Oh thank god.” Harry feels the all too familiar tiny stabbing feeling in his heart the moment you walk out of the bathroom and into the dressing room that was clearly once just an office the venue has tried to turn into a bridal suite. “Can you zip me up please?” You ask with a slight look of panic making Harry snap out of his trance as you turn around giving him access to the zipper and it’s in this moment he is secretly happy this isn’t the first time he’s seeing you in your dress because if it was he feels like he wouldn’t be much use to anyone let alone trying to help you get zipped up.

“How’re the nerves?” You just shrug as Harry finishes zipping you up and gives you a once over in the mirror the two of you are standing in front of. “No cold feet or anything?” He asks and it’s not like he’s expecting you to say yes or anything because Harry knows for a fact you’ve been looking forward to this day for quite a while.

“Nope my feet are actually a bit too warm if I’m being honest.” Harry just smiles at your silly excuse of a joke while you turn around so you’re facing him and in true you fashion your hands instantly go up and start adjusting his suit collar and bow tie. “You won’t let me fall right? Won’t let me trip over my own two feet or anything?” You question and it’s in this very moment that the overwhelming reality of his current situation really sets in for Harry, he is about to walk his bestfriend who he’s been hopelessly in love with for as long as he can remember down the aisle to get married to someone that’s not him.

[blingblong55]

Until I found you-König

GN!Reader, angst, fluff

Oh, let me hold you I'll never let you go again like I did

Your relationship with König was more than amazing, he always looked forward to coming home to you. But as the missions started to pile up for him, the more he saw himself losing hope to come home safe or alive. He couldn't and wouldn't be the reason why you were sad if he were to die, so he thought that maybe if he broke up with you before one of the toughest missions he's been on, surely you'd be able to move on without him in the world.

The day that he broke up with you was nothing but painful, you were sad but also mad at him. His reasoning was not clear and all you could think about was that maybe there was someone else for him and he just didn't want you to know that. Were you not enough? Was there something wrong with the way you loved him? He definitely knew you loved him with every fibre of your being but you didn't think he was fully aware of how much love you have for him. There was a deeper reason for this, not just because he thought I'd be mean of him to leave you alone and in despair.

Two months ago he was closer to death than ever before. A bullet passed through his shoulder, it was by pure luck he never got hit. That was when reality set in for him. He can't just leave you like that. Stupid excuse for such a valid reason. And now, as he walks into the flat you two called home, your stuff is gone and the home feels colder. The colours and comfort the place brought him once, are now gone with you.

Reality set in. He let the one good thing he had in this miserable world go. If only he was as smart in love as he is on the field. What a shame. König now sits on the sofa that you two once cuddled in after he came home. What a fool was he to think he'd have you for years to come. He used to think he was at risk of getting hurt only to be the one who brought such pain to a wonderful and kind person. Couldn't he be more kind to your heart and feelings? Memories flush through, the night he got news his Oma died, you were there. Holding him close he silently cried for her. You were there the day his mum was in the hospital, calming him down, making tea and visiting his mum every week after the incident. You made sure to clean her face after every meal, made him feel comfort when he felt it was wrong to be weak and you were the one who was there the night he had the worst panic attack due to his PTSD.

Why is he such a fool?

He saw you at the park, reading a book under your favourite tree. He smiles, knowing that at least that part of you has never changed. If he is such a tough and ruthless soldier then why hasn't he gone to you and started to talk? Because he is a coward at love, not war. You laid back, jumper on your back to make the tree bark more comfortable to rest on. He used to be the one you rested on as you read. It was the one thing he loved to do in public. He was Shakespeare and you his Anne. The muse to his love and sonnets.

"Liebe?" he softly says as he finally has the courage to talk and approach you. "König." you sounded surprised. Oh, how he longed to hear your voice and the sweet sound you made when you said his name. Sweet angel, his sweet sweet angel.

Now, four years since he and you rekindled your love, you two now chase your dog around the park because the dog can't let go of the dog bone a little kid threw by accident. You are now his spouse, the one and only for a man like him. Never did he know he could feel so much for one person, yet he is there, loving, protecting and caring for you.

[hauntedwitch04]

Proud of you

Dean Winchester x daughter!Reader

Words: about 1.3k words

Warning: I hate John Winchester and I'm not gonna be sorry about it. Just some sad memories of Dean, but mostly fluff

REQUEST: no requested

Author’s note: Hi! I'M NOT DEAD! I know, shocking!

It was a period full of exams, including the driver's license exam and four college exams, and I could not write anything. And just when I thought I could start writing again, classes started again, so… here I am! I'm actually in the university library and should be studying, but my panic attack said NO, so here you go! this is a short scene I imagined after doing my first drive with my dad a month or so ago, and I liked it too much not to write it down, I hope you enjoy it.

Requests are open I Ask

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Ever since you were little you have dreamed of this moment, yet now that you are here and experiencing it, you can't help but want to run away and run for cover in the calm, quiet safety of your bedroom.

You clutch the steering wheel of the car in your hands, which as much as your father loves her is considered your sister, to look straight ahead.

You feel your father's eyes scrutinizing you, sitting beside you, as he considers whether to tell you something or not. You see out of the corner of your eye Castiel's hand resting on your father's shoulder to restrain him from saying anything, knowing, and feeling the anxiety gripping your stomach at this moment.

You take a deep breath and decide to finally start Baby. You hear the engine roar, and your sweaty hands slide on the steering wheel as you lightly touch the pedals with your feet as your father explained to you just before, and a thousand other times before in motel and diner parking lots when you were bored while Uncle Sam found you a place to eat or sleep.

The car begins to move, and you feel a sense of courage and pride in seeing that you are succeeding for the first time in making the car go.

You slowly manage to move a few meters before misplacing your feet while shifting gears and bringing the car to a stop without warning.

Discouraged you abandon your head against the steering wheel, narrowly missing the horn as your father laughs lightly and rests a hand on your shoulder.

Castiel watches Dean get lost in his own thoughts as he watches you explain with a low stare that you are sorry and that you don't understand how it can take you so long to understand and learn how to drive, knowing full well that your father's mind is actually somewhere else right now.

Dean watching his daughter drive for the first time in the same car in which he had learned, could not help but think of when he had been in that position.

Dean had just turned 15, but on his umpteenth fake ID and driver's license it was marked that he was at least two years older, knowing that no one would dispute the fact, since he had been showing 17 for a year and a half now. He felt sweaty hands against his thighs through his jeans as he felt his father's gaze burn him alive.

"Will you move?" John said with obvious hatred in his voice. He had decided it was time for Dean to learn to drive, so that at night he could sleep and leave his son driving the car, as if he were at least twice as old as he was.

In part Dean knew that John wanted to do this so that he could be more independent of his sons and could also take solo trips without worrying about picking up, or having someone pick them up as had happened several times, Dean and Sam after leaving them alone for a week in a motel in a town they did not know. And the oldest of the Winchester brothers couldn't help but be glad to finally get away from the monster who had become their father.

Dean swallowed laboriously and then started the car. He had almost forgotten about Sam's presence in the car until he encouraged him in a feeble voice, only to receive a cruel look from John.

Slowly he made the car move inside the parking lot. It was now late at night and not a soul would disturb his first drive, or so he thought.

He was starting to pick up speed, imitating the people he drove in the many movies he saw while waiting for his father to return from yet another hunt, when suddenly a car comes speeding towards them.

Panicked Dean suddenly accelerated to escape from the high-speed encounter with that madman, only to brake abruptly shortly after seeing that he was inches from the wall.

Dean quickly turned to see how Sam was doing after all the commotion, but he saw that the fear on his brother's face had given way to a smile, not a complete one since he had recently dropped a tooth and had yet to grow a new one.

"Wow Dean, you were great! It was like being in one of those movies-" His brother was interrupted by John's voice, which like thunder crashed down on those poor creatures who had had the misfortune of being his children.

"Don't bullshit Sam, your brother was an idiot. Do you realize you could have ruined the car!" He said shouting and motioning for his son to get out of the car as he did the same.

"But-but that car was coming at us! I couldn't do anything else! It's only my first time driving!" He tried to excuse Dean as he tried to reason with his father, but nothing could change the man's mind, especially when it came to his favorite sport: mistreating the one person over whom he had full power and control, his own son: Dean.

"And if it were up to me it would be the last damn fool too, how can I count on you if all you do is make mistakes? Disappear from my sight before I decide to leave you in this parking lot, better yet, take the car and go back to the motel, I'll stop at the bar nearby."

Dean could not help but squint his eyes, already thinking about his drunken father arriving from the bar on the crack of dawn, and the beating he would receive from the man because of alcohol, although Dean knew it was not entirely the fault of the liquid that seemed to have become John's fuel since his wife had died.

Dean, in the end, had learned to drive thanks to a teacher who was more patient and kinder than his father: Bobby, who with all the calm and love his father had never shown toward him had managed to teach the oldest of the Winchester brothers to drive in one of the many cars he had in his "backyard." And it was then Dean himself, together with Bobby, who had taught Sam how to ride in the car.

This time, however, it was different: it was not his brother he was teaching to ride in a car, but his daughter, that is, blood of his blood, the result of yet another night of passion with a woman he met at a bar, for whom he could never thank enough whatever deity ruled up there. And be damned, more than he already was, he would never let his little girl suffer what he had suffered.

"Hey, it's okay. Nobody's perfect the first time, and this car is definitely not the best you can have for a first drive, but you did great. I had done much worse my first time, and I'm not kidding, I almost hit a wall." Dean says as he watches his daughter straighten her back and look into his eyes, her own eyes, as he smiles at her, gently, and then pulls her into a hug.

"Really?" The girl asks, as she pulls her father in turn into a tight embrace.

"I swear on Miracle." He replied, as the dog in the back seat barks in response, having heard someone calling him, and the girl can't help but giggle.

They remain embraced for a few minutes, until Dean finally finds the courage to say those words that are so simple and at the same time so important, and so necessary, that he had never heard her father say to her, but that would never deprive his daughter from hearing them from him every day as long as she had breath to breathe. Five words, but they had the power of a thousand.

"I am proud of you."

TAGLIST (updated 19 Nov 2023)

@cheyennep3107 @mortica-raven13 @theviewfromtheotherside @supernatural-lvr @imnotcryingurcrying @cursednevermore @itzdarling @deansbbyx @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @afcnds @sya-skies @evansstan-akya

[judysxnd]

What Lando does to help you when you’re having a panic attack

ASD and life in general is tough for me these days.. sorry for this unhappy preference, but I still find it very cute. Hope you like it!

And that’s how I imagine Lando would be with someone who has panic attacks, trying to help them.

———————————————————————————

•music: it helps you feel the emotions and let them out. So Lando puts music to help you out. Even sad music to let the feelings out, or happy music to help you cheer up a bit. He sometimes try to sing a bit or dance a bit to make you smile. He’s also trying to make you focus on the music, maybe even to sing along so that it controls your breathing and calms you down.

•praise: you’re always hating on yourself, especially during a panic attack. You’re always tired of struggling to do simple things, to be feeling bad. So Lando tries to reassure by saying what he loves about you, how great you’re doing, how much he cares about you and loves you

•physical touch: just holding your hands, hugging you, holding you tight when it gets too intense for you. He plays with your hair to try and calm you down, also caressing your skin to make you focus on something else and stop crying. He also kisses every inches of your skin just to make you smile (works every time).

•all ears: you need to let your feelings out, so you explain everything to Lando. He’s just here, listening to you silently. Trying to make you feel as comfortable as possible without interfering with you. Sometimes you can’t even speak, but it’s okay, you’re still letting out, and Lando is here to support you and help you deal with your emotions. He is so affectionate with you, him being next to you is already helping so much.

•food: buying snacks, ordering in, Lando will buy you anything you ask for. After this exhausting session (not the one you wished you had), you get a bit hungry. Either candies, ice cream, nuggets or pizza, whatever you want, he will get it for you. That’s the only time he’s leaving you alone, because you’re not getting out of the house (or car if you come with him because he doesn’t want to leave you alone for too long).

•drive: driving around helps. Depending on how bad the panic attack is, you are the one driving. You need to focus so much when you’re driving that it can automatically make you stop crying. But sometimes you’re simply not in the mood, so Lando drives you around, his hand on your thigh. It definitely helps calming you down, especially since you also have some music in the background.

•him: just Lando being here with you, helping you, trying his best to understand you and what’s wrong is more than enough. You never knew someone could help you so much. He is being such the best boyfriend, doing all the things right for you.

•breathing: your heartbeat is exploding when you’re having a panic attack. The key is to calm your heart down, to have a steady breathing rhythm so that you can fully calm down. So Lando is trying to help you, doing some breathing exercise. It never really works because your attacks are too intense, but sometimes it does.

[in1-nutshell]

Third request since you opened them, I just have a lot of ideas. I was rereading the Bee's team meets megatons daughter with the opposite personality Buddy and it got me thinking. You know how Knockout, Breakdown, Steve, and maybe Soundwave? Couldn't tell. But you know how all of them switched side because of Buddy in that one fic you wrote? (Or maybe not, there's a nagging thought in the back of my mind that I dreamed that.) Imagine they all notice that Buddy's missing and there's a slight panic because yeah, Buddy can take care of herself but why wouldn't she tell them? They find out that Buddy's back on earth and now there are a few ex-cons standing at the scrapyard's gate. (Or maybe Knockout never left earth and already knew she was there? Because there's that one episode where Bumblebee and Strongarm are thrown into the car lot with the uhm, wheel cuff things, and it pans out to a very suspicious cherry red Aston Martin. I refuse to believe that's not Knockout. And since Fixit (I think, can't remember.) and the humans had to go and rescue them maybe Buddy tagged along and Knockout saw them? Buddy might've also seen Knockout and decided to get the wheel cuff off of him as well. (Or maybe he didn't have a wheel cuff, can't remember. Jeez, how much have I said that?)) Anyways this was just a really long ramble of an idea that can be taken multiple ways. So do what you wanna do with this.

There's a bit of an explanation on the timeline in here. If it sounds a bit confusing, feel free to let me know so I can explain it better.

Also, added a little extra in here...

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron's daughter with the opposite personality reactions from Knockout, Breakdown, Steve, and Soundwave finding out she went missing

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Familial, Cybertronain reader

RiD 2015

Going through the canon timeline of megs daughter.

Soundwave does get sent to the shadow zone through an altercation.

Buddy never finds out what happened to him.

She believes that he left Megatron during the chaos.

She was a bit sad that he never came back to talk to her or anything, but she also believed that he was taking some time to find himself after being a Decepticon for so long.

Knockout and Breakdown end up having joint stay between earth and Cybertron.

The pair loved driving through Earth scenery and was a place to escape Cybertron for a while.

Most of the Decepticons had started their new lives on Cybertron now that the war was over.

Buddy was no different.

Not only had she started a brand-new life, Buddy and Steve had recently become Conjunx Endura after a while of dating.

Steve had been on an away assignment for his work when Buddy left through the portal of their shared habsuite.

Steve walking into their home.

“Buddy! I’m back!”--Steve

Silence…

“Buddy! I’m back?”--Steve

Silence…

Steve starts looking around the home.

“Buddy? Buddy if this is another joke, I don’t like it!”--Steve

A few minutes later…

Knockout looks at his monitor seeing Steve calling.

“Breakdown its Steve!”--Knockout

“Put him on.”--Breakdown

Steve shows up on the screen.

“Hey Ste—”--Breakdown

“SHE’S GONE!”--Steve

Breakdown and Knockout out jump a bit.

“Gone? Who’s gone?”--Knockout

Steve has his servo on his helm.

“BUDDY! BUDDY’S NOT HERE!”--Steve

“Calm down Steve. Maybe she went out for a walk or something. Or maybe she went to go visit a friend. Remember last time?”--Breakdown

“…Maybe your right…”--Steve

“But if she doesn’t come back in a week then let us know.”--Breakdown

“Steve nods and hangs up.

One week later…

Steve starts calling Knockout and Breakdown.

Breakdown answers.

“Hey—Primus Steve!”--Breakdown

Steve looks tired and on the verge of a literal break down.

“SHE’S STILL NOT HERE!”--Steve

Soundwave, meanwhile, had spent his time looking for Megatron’s signal. He escaped the shadow zone a couple weeks before Buddy showed up, so he didn’t know that she was here.

Soundwave picks up on a frantic link between Knockout, Breakdown and Steve about Buddy disappearing.

He follows the frequency to Breakdown and Knockout which scares them half to death.

“Soundwave!”—Breakdown and Knockout

Soundwave stands there with his arms crossed.

“Breakdown—Knockout—Buddy?”--Soundwave

“We don’t know. Steve just told us she went missing from their home.”--Breakdown

Soundwave clenches his servos a bit.

The sound of a portal gets their attention.

Out pops out Steve.

“I’m here! I’m—SOUNDWAVE?!”--Steve

“Explain.”--Soundwave

“Steve is here to assist us on the search for Buddy.”--Knockout

Soundwave steps to Steve.

Knockout and Breakdown step to Steve’s side.

“He is Buddy’s Conjunx Soundwave. He has the right to be here.”--Breakdown

Soundwave freezes a bit hearing it.

“Buddy—Conjunx?”—Soundwave

Steve gulps a bit but puts on a brave face.

“Yes, I’m her Conjunx. A Conjunx that’s worried for her safety. We’d really appreciate it if you helped us find her.”--Steve

Soundwave pauses a bit and turns to Knockout.

“Continue.”--Soundwave

“As I was saying, a day’s weeks ago I was booted and taken to the yard where I saw this other Autobot get stuck there too, awfully annoying mind you. And then look who shows up but Bumblebee and his new crew.”--Knockout

“He has a new team?”--Steve

“Yes, and I swear I heard him say ‘Buddy’. I thought at the time he was remembering her from Cybertron, but now that she went missing, there is a chance that Bumblebee might know where she is.”--Knockout

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”--Steve

“Slow down Steve we don’t even have a trail on where—”--Breakdown

“Signal—found. 30—minutes—east—city. Coordinates on—commlink.”--Soundwave

“Now we go!”--Steve

Steve transforms and speeds down the road.

“…He’s good to Buddy. Their a good match for each other.”--Breakdown

Soundwave looks at Steve’s retreating form.

“Soundwave—will see—about that.”--Soundwave

It’s nighttime when they arrive to the scrapyard.

Knockout thinks about literally knocking on the door.

They hear Buddy yelling.

“Okay we need a good plan—”--Knockout

Steve uses Breakdown like a steppingstone and launches himself over the high wall.

“Or we can go in guns blazing I guess…”--Knockout

“Soundwave—approve.”--Soundwave

Breakdown offers Knockout and Soundwave a way over.

He could wait until they opened the door.

Soundwave and Knockout are now over the wall.

All the scrapyards’ alarms are sounding.

The team is on high alert when Fix-it mentions the Decepticon signals inside the scrapyard.

Bee tells Buddy to get Denny and Russel out of the area.

Buddy grabs her friends and sets on leading them to the other side of the scrapyard with Fix it.

Steve is dodging blasters and staffs like it was his job back in the Decepticons.

He is slightly hurt that Bee didn’t recognize him but then again, he does have a pretty basic frame.

Steve raises his servos in surrender.

“HOLD IT! HOLD IT!”--Steve

“Freeze Decepticon!”--Strongarm

“Hey! I said hold it! Now, I’m not here to hurt anyone—”--Steve

“I am.”--Soundwave

“Soundwave?!”--Bumblebee

The weapons get charged up and ready to attack.

“WE are not here to attack. Listen, Bumblebee, we’re just here to—”--Steve

“Where did everyone go?”--Breakdown

Breakdown and Knockout walk in on the standoff.

“Knockout? Breakdown? What is going on?!”--Bumblebee

Steve face palms.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to explain but everyone here seems to keep on interrupting me!”--Steve

Silence.

“Now. We came here to ask you if you’ve seen Buddy around?”—Steve

“Buddy?”--Bumblebee

The team immediately gets ready to attack.

“If you think we’re about to give her to you, then your sorely mistaken.”--Drift

“So, you do know where she is!”--Steve

Grimlock steps up front.

“And you’re going to have to go through me if you want her.”--Grimlock

“Fine by me.”--Steve

Meanwhile, with Buddy...

“I think we’re safe here.”--Buddy

“Thank the Prime’s.”—Fix-it

“AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHH!”

Buddy freezes.

She quickly looks at Denny Russel and Fix it.

“Stay here.”--Buddy

With that Buddy sprints back.

Grimlock had grabbed Steve and slammed him to the ground when he tried to get past him.

Steve luckily manages to get out of his grip and falls back.

Buddy is sprinting back to the main part of the scrap yard ready for whatever she was going to face.

She hides behind some used oil barrel and takes a peek at who the trouble was.

Buddy spots Steve on his knees, holding his side a bit.

She runs out of her hiding place.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOURE FIRE!”--Buddy

Most of Team Bee looks in shock that Buddy starts running past them.

“Buddy! Don’t—”--Grimlock

“HOLD YOURE FIRE!”--Buddy

The team hesitantly puts some of their weapons down.

Buddy rushes over to Steve, who was frozen seeing Buddy there.

“Primus Steve are you okay? That denting doesn’t look too—Oof!”--Buddy

Steve fights the shooting pain on his side and flings his arms around Buddy pulling her incredibly close.

“Oh, Thank the Allspark you’re okay!”--Steve

He lets go to look her over.

“Are you hurt? Where did you go? Were you kidnapped? What’s—“--Buddy hugs him tight making him go quiet.

He just wraps his arms around her and stifles a sob in his throat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know this was going to be such a long mission, but when Prime calls you, you gotta go.”--Buddy

“Excuse me when Prime what?”--Steve

“CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHAT IS GOING ON?!”—Sideswipe

Team Bee is extremely confused.

Soundwave takes a few steps forward and Buddy launches at her uncle he hugs back surprising everyone.

Then she goes to Knockout and Breakdown.

There is a lot to explain.

Steve stays by Buddy’s side the entire time.

“Hey Buddy, who is… Steve exactly?”--Denny

“He’s my Conjunx.”--Buddy

Steve feels a swell of pride and love hearing those words.

Steve grabs Buddy’s servo.

“That’s still sounds nice, you know.”--Steve

Buddy smiles shyly at him.

“Your Conjunx!”—Team Bee

“How come you never told us?!”--Sideswipe

“It never came up?”--Buddy

“What’s a Conjunx?”--Russel

“The Earth equivalent of a significant other.”--Breakdown

“You’re married?!”--Russel

“How?!”--Sideswipe

Buddy looks at Steve.

“That’s a story for another time.”--Buddy

“No, that’s a story for now.”--Sideswipe

“Another time.”--Buddy

“Now!”--Sideswipe

In the end Knockout and Breakdown end up going back to their home on earth. They do offer their services in case something bad does happen in their area.

Soundwave decides to take some time for himself not knowing what to do with everything now that the war is over.

Steve decides to stay in the scrapyard with Buddy and Team Bee.