#like i could TELL that one shook his world

[luvyeni]

ALL FOR YOU 𝕼. ( 이민형 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이민형 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. idol!mark x idol!reader, unprotected sex , oral ( f ) , little bit of jealousy word count. 2.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis ��� you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out.

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this one i like , so good job to me …

you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out…

“okay yn since you’re the youngest; you can pair up with jisung since he’s also the youngest.” you and the tall boy exchanged small awkward smiles. “aren’t they so cute together?” you heard yuna whisper to mark; you boy next to you clearly heard because he started to turn a deep shade of red — not cause he liked you, but because knew you were with mark.

you and mark met when you were still a trainee under sm. you’d accidentally walked into the wrong practice room, mark so happened to be in there… to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. he found it cute and endearing, watching you scramble to find the right words — but all you could manage was a small squeak.

from that day on; he tried to seek you out, finding you in the practice room, pretending to be confused. looking for you in the cafeteria where you sat with the other trainees and future group mates. he never said anything, no, he didn’t want to get you in trouble; but that didn’t stop him from looking; and falling for what he saw.

he knew what he was getting himself into when he asked you out; he was not only asking someone younger than him, but his junior at that — he was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help it. he liked you so much and you liked him.

your debut was announced about a month after you and mark began to secretly date, he was so excited for you; that was also the first time you two had sex and it was mind blowing.

you both didn’t want anyone to found out about your relationship; but unfortunately haechan has the code to mark’s apartment and loves to show up announced sometimes — and after a awkward first meeting with haechan and you, and mark pinning him down to the floor to get him shut his mouth; he promised not to tell staff… but that didn’t stop him from telling the other dreamies.

you decided to not tell your members at all — which you are currently regretting. “mark is kinda cute don’t you think?” yuna sat next to you as you sat down for a quick break. “huh?” you said. “and he so obviously wants me, you see how low his hands went.” you followed her gaze to your boyfriend who was talking to your manager. “he wants me for sure, should i ask for his number?”

you were stunned; how do you answer that question? “um i don’t think that’s a good idea , we really aren’t supposed to be dating.” you said , how ironic. “besides he’s probably already in a relationship.” you said , hoping she’d drop it, the jealousy starting to boil inside your stomach. “so innocent yn , of course he doesn’t a guy as fine as he is , he’s probably fucking all around world he has no time to have a girl waiting for him.” she stood up ; walking away leaving you with a heavy heart and green with jealousy. “i have to use the bathroom.” you got up. “hurry back, we have to practice , this collab has to be perfect.” yuna said , nodded walking out the room.

more like slamming the door behind you in marks eyes. “what’s wrong with her?” haechan asked. “did you two fight?” the elder shook his head; in fact he just talked to you before you guys met up and you seemed excited to be working with him and his group. “her and member seemed to be having a conversation before she stormed out , maybe they’re having a argument.” jaemin said. “should i go after her?” mark asked; normally he wouldn’t ask a question like that, he’d just go, but there were a bunch of staff and cameras around he didn’t want anyone catching on. “duh , go.” chenle said. “we’ll make sure no one finds out anything.”

he nodded , standing up walking out the door. “hey mark.” yuna batted her eyelashes at the boy. “hi.” was all he said before leaving out to find you.

why were you even mad? you could’ve told her and ended it there. you just didn’t want to jeopardize your careers and ruin your groups reputation, you were still in your early parts of your career. “get it together, you’re a professional.” you said to yourself before walking out of the bathroom , only to be pushed back in.

“mark what the hell?” you shrieked. “did anyone see you?” you questioned. “what’s wrong?” mark said , looking into your eyes; his filled with worry. “nothing im fine.” you tried to walk out but he grabbed your wrist. “mark.” you frowned. “tell me what’s wrong , the way you slammed that door.” he said. “did you and your member have a fight?” he asked. “no.” you trailed off. “then what is it?”

“its stupid.” you whispered , eyes to the floor. “hey.” he grabbed your chin, lifting your head up. “nothing you feel is stupid to me.” his hand covered your cheek, caressing it softly. “so tell me what’s wrong baby.” you sighed before speaking up. “it’s yuna , she likes you.” you said. “she wants to ask for your number.”

he didn’t want to laugh, but the cute pout on your lips as you spoke, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “are you laughing at me?” you asked. “i told you it was stupid , let me go.” you pulled away from him , but he grabbed you , pulling you close to wrap his arms around you. “you’re just too cute baby , so jealous and so cute.” he said. “it’s not funny , i told her you probably have a girlfriend and you know what she said.” he smiled listening to you ramble. “she said there’s no way a guy as fine as you are isn’t fucking all around the world.”

“she said that?” he said; of course that wasn’t true. “yeah , can you believe it.” you said. “and i guess she wants to be next.” you pouted, slapping his arm. “don’t say it like it could be a possibility mark.” he winced , rubbing the spot. “baby you know it’s not a possibility, not even a 0.01% chance i would do that,” he said. “you sure?” he giggled, kissing your pouty lips. “100%.” you smiled. “now stop pouting and let’s get back to the practice room before they start to question our whereabouts.”

“wanna stay here with you.” you said , he smiled. “come over tonight , and you’ll have me all to yourself yeah?” he had you pinned against the sink. “you’d like that?” you bit your lip nodding. “yeah.” he was about to pull you into a kiss — when you both got a ping on your phones. he groaned , pulling away from you. “we have to go.” you said. “why now when im so hard,” he said. “just 5 more minutes.” your phones going off again. “i don’t think we can.” you said. “let’s go before they send a search party.”

you made your return first; coming up with a excuse to tell your leader; luckily she didn’t question it. “just get in line and get ready.” you nodded , standing next to jisung. “happy now?” he smirked , you rolled your eyes , pushing him. “look who’s back.” mark made his way back inside the room. “there were people at the vending machine,” he said. “at the vending machines and yet not a single snack or anything.” haechan said. “i ate it on the way back.” he gritted through his teeth , silently threatening the boy. “okay , okay let’s get back to practice.” the choreographer said ; mark giving you a quick glance and a wink making you smile as the music started.

“good job everybody.” the choreographer said; mark watched you begin to pack up. “here.” someone shoved a piece of paper in his face. “uh.” he looked up, yuna staring him in the face. “it’s my number.” she said. “oh , i don’t think — yuna lets go.” your leader called out for the girl. “here.” she dropped it in his hand making her way out ; you watched the whole thing. “yn.” he called out. “bye.” you gave him a tight lipped smile as you made your way out. “she’s jealous.” jeno said. “yeah no shit.” he tossed the paper in the trash.

“baby please talk to me.” you sat on his bed later that night , arms folded stubbornly against your chest. “you know what she did as soon as we got back to the dorms?” you said. “she went on and on how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her boobs , how you were definitely into her and you taking her number solidified that.” you spat out , he laid against the headboard , his hand coming up to your thigh. “baby i told you i wasn’t , i threw the number away.” he whined. “and i wasn’t looking at her boobs , i was looking past her , looking at your boobs.”

“now isn’t the time for jokes mark.” you said flatly , trying to hold back a smile. “but it got you to smile.” he pulled you back against a smile. “mark.” he kissed behind your ear. “i don’t want anyone else but you.” he whispered, knowing what it did to you. “you’re so cute when you’re jealous , huffing and puffing.” he said , hands traveling down to your side. “makes me so hard.” he turned your head around, pulling you into a heated kiss.

he slipped his tongue inside your mouth , both of you moaning into the kiss , he flipped you over so he was on top. “so fucking pretty.” he dipped inside your neck. “you don’t know what you do to me , how much i wanted to pull you away from jisung.” he groaned. “his hands were too low on you.” he growled. “se-seems like you were jealous too.” you whimpered , he bit down on your neck. “fuck mark don’t leave any marks.” he licked the spot on your neck. “fuck of course i was jealous baby , i wanted to dance with you , not her.” he gripped your waist tightly. “all i could think about is you while dancing.”

he kissed down the valley of your breast. “the way you looked.” *kiss* “the way you talked.” *kiss* “the way you smelled.” he gave you one final kiss. “fuck and the way you taste.” he pulled your leggings down your legs , spreading them open. “ma-mark i need you.” you desperately mewled. “yeah?” he smirked. “need me to lick your pretty pussy.” he kissed your clothed cunt. “mhm pl-please.” he pulled your panties to the side; his cock twitching in his sweats. “look how wet you are.” he groaned. “all this for me baby?” you nodded , he gave your clit another kiss. “mhm fuck , you taste so good.” he dove into your heat , passionately licking your folds. “ma-mark , fuck that feels good.”

he hummed against your heat , holding your legs apart as he feverishly licked your folds. “fuck , fuck keep going.” your hand tangled up into his hair as your hips bucked up involuntarily. “fuck mark im gonna cum.” he replaced his mouth with his fingers , pushed two inside. “you’re so wet , gonna cum for me?” you nodded , the knot in your belly getting tighter. “cum for me then , be a good girl and cum for me.” you gasped out , the knot finally snapping as you came all over her fingers. “good fucking girl.” his voice filled with lust. “made such a mess on my fingers.”

he pushed his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. “so sweet.” he said. “like fucking candy baby.” he untied the string to his sweats , pulling them down just enough to free his fully erected cock. “look how hard i am for you.” he pressed his tip against your hole. “only get like this for you.” he slowly slid inside you. “fuck mark , so-so big.” you moaned , he grunted. “sh-shit baby you’re so tight.” his cock slowly filling you up , his cock kissing your cervix. “love this pussy so much.”

he pulled out , stopping at the tip; pushing himself all the way in. “so so much.” he groaned. “mark faster.” you moaned. “faster?” he said , speeding up. “yes like that.” your fingers running through his hair. “no need to be jealous baby , it’s all for you.” he groaned. “all mines.” he groaned as you tugged at his hair. “it’s yours.” he whispered in your ear. “so take what’s yours baby.”

he pulled out of you; laying back letting you climb into his lap. “ride me baby , ride your cock.” he groaned as you held the base of his cock , sinking down on him. “fuck mark.” he watched in awe as you rode him; bouncing up and down on his length. “fuck that feels good princess , ride me , ride it like you own me.” he held your waist as you worked his cock. “fuck baby im about to cum.” he moaned out. “no-not yet , almost there.” you stuttered , legs faltering. “fuck , fuck mark im about to cum.”

he held your hips , bucking up into your needy cunt. “fuck baby cum.” he groaned. “cum.” both of you moaning out as you came at the same time , your head dropping in between his neck. “b-baby don’t leave any marks , my manager will kill me.” he sighed , loving the feeling on his lips … okay maybe he can’t take the scolding.

“what were you thinking , the makeup artist is gonna kill you if that isn’t gone by the performance.” you heard his manager scolding him as your group walked into the practice room. “next time at least put it somewhere no one can see.” the older man shook his head in disappointment. “so irresponsible.” you chuckled , covering your smile. he looked at you frowning. “guess he had too good of a time last night.” your other member said. “guess yuna was wrong.” you looked at yuna who looked upset upon seeing the mark on his neck. “let’s just get this over with.” she said stomping away; your other member was chuckling. “don’t worry she’ll get over it , if not oh well.” she said. “and don’t you laughed too much.” she turned to you. “what are you talking about?”

she rolled her eyes. “you think im dumb , if you aren’t careful you’ll be getting a scolding just like he is.” she said. “at least he’s smart enough to put it somewhere no one can see.” she walked away leaving you stunned; mark looking at you curiously. “what?” he mouthed , you pointed to your member. “she knows.” you mouthed back, he shrugged. “tell them all.”

guess it’s time to tell your members the truth.

©️LUVYENI

[4linos]

empty words

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: you thought you’d tell him about the pregnancy with excitement, but his cold rejection shatters your hopes. Now, with everything crumbling, you must figure out how to move forward.

warnings: asshole!!! hyunjin, pregnancy/pregnant mentions, huge argument & just overall really angsty.

wc: 1338

You sat on the edge of the bed, the test still warm in your hands, its small white stick almost mocking you as it proved everything you'd been afraid to admit. Positive. You knew it deep down, didn't you? The nausea, exhaustion, and little, subtle changes in your body. But seeing it in black and white made you feel as if the world had stopped. Your heart raced in your chest, a deafening thrum that overshadowed everything else. You'd imagined this moment numerous times before, but none of them matched the crushing sense of terror and uncertainty that gripped you right now.

What were you going to do? You didn't even know where to start. You'd hoped to start a family with him someday. Hyunjin. You imagined him holding the test, his face beaming with excitement, making plans and talking about everything you two could do to prepare. But now that you saw the reality of the situation, you're afraid.

How would he react? Would he be happy? Or would he be disappointed? Will he panic and push you away? Your mind swirled with questions, each one more pressing than the previous. You thought that, whatever happened, the two of you would be able to handle it together. You've always been able to handle things right? But now, with the test in your hand, everything seemed uncertain, as though a single word from him could shatter everything.

You shook your head, trying to focus. You couldn’t let this news get to you before you even told him. He’d be home soon, and you needed to figure out how to tell him.

You hid the test in the drawer and closed it, trying to push it to the back of your mind. Dinner. You should focus on dinner. You still had some time, so maybe you could make something nice, something that would ease the tension. You wanted everything to be perfect when he walked through the door, so you could tell him with some semblance of normality, of calmness. He would be okay, wouldn’t he?

But when the door clicked open, it was anything but normal. The usual excitement you felt when you heard his footsteps in the hallway was gone. It was like the air had changed, a heaviness settling between you before he even entered the room. He didn’t greet you with the usual teasing smile, didn’t ask about your day or tell you how much he missed you. Instead, he walked in, his face drawn, tight with something you couldn’t place. The warmth you were used to was completely absent.

"Hey, love, how was your day?" you asked, a little too cheerfully, hoping he would smile and make everything feel okay again.

He didn’t. Instead, he just grunted, his gaze flicking toward you briefly before he turned away, walking past you without saying a word.

"Do you want to have dinner now?" you asked, trying to fill the silence, trying to make things feel normal, even though everything in you screamed that nothing was normal. "I was thinking about making something, maybe pasta or—"

He scoffed, cutting you off. "You didn’t make anything?" His voice was sharp, colder than you’d ever heard it.

The words hit you like a blow in the face. You got so preoccupied with thinking about whether or not to take the test, swirling fear and anticipation, that you had entirely forgotten about dinner. You felt an overwhelming sense of shame come over you, yet it was nothing compared to how his words made you feel. You instantly looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes, wishing you could just break down the tension in the air.

"I forgot," you confessed slowly, your voice small.

His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps heavy and irritating. "I'll make something for myself," he murmured under his breath, turning away from you to begin gather food from the refrigerator. You stood there for a moment, watching him walk with displeasure with each stride.

Something within you stirred. Something was not right. You hadn't seen him this off in a long time. "Hyunjin, are you okay?" You tried again, your voice softer this time, and stepped closer to him, your heart racing in your chest. "You’re been acting distant... Is everything alright?

He didn’t turn around, but you saw his jaw tighten. His hands moved faster, the sounds of him grabbing pots and pans harsh against the stillness. Then, he scoffed again, this time louder, more frustrated. "I’m tired of everything," he muttered, not looking at you, his voice low but heavy with frustration.

"What?" You didn’t know if you had heard him correctly. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest tightened, a wave of dread flooding over you. You took a step closer. "What did you say?"

Hyunjin turned to face you then, his eyes cold, a deep frown etched on his face. "I said I’m tired of you. Tired of this. Tired of everything. The relationship. Everything about it. It’s been building up, and I just… I don’t know anymore." His voice was sharp, cutting through you like a knife. The words hit you harder than you had imagined.

Your legs went weak, but you held yourself upright, willing your body to stay steady. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like you were afraid that if you spoke too loudly, the fragile piece of reality you were holding onto would shatter.

"Hyunjin, you’re not making sense. This isn’t… you."

His gaze turned even colder, and he looked at you like you were a stranger. "I’m suffocated," he spat. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe when I’m with you. Everything feels like it’s just… weighing me down. I’m done."

The words struck you like a stab to the chest. Your breath caught, and the world around you started spinning. You wanted to scream, ask why, and beg him to stay. You couldn't lose him like way. But the hurt in his eyes and the finality in his tone told you it was already over. You swallowed hard, tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Not yet.

"Hyunjin…" you muttered, struggling to maintain your voice. "What are you saying?" "You want us to break up?" He nodded, without a trace of emotion on his face. "Yes," he responded, almost coldly. "I don't want this anymore. You can keep everything, the apartment, all the stuff; I don't care. I just need out. I need to be alone."

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of his words settling like a thick fog around you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to make this make sense, but the words wouldn’t come.

You can’t leave. You can’t do this to me.

But instead, you just choked on your breath, the sting of tears becoming unbearable.

"You want to leave," you whispered quietly, the finality of your words making your throat ache. "Then go." You did not want to show him how much he was hurting you just yet. You didn't want him to see the brokenness in your eyes. Hyunjin didn't hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and keys and proceeded toward the door without saying anything.

The slam of the door as he left rang around the room like a bullet punctured the air. You slumped to the floor, your body trembling, tears finally spilling freely as you held your stomach, your hand reflexively pressing against the growing life inside you.

The sobs wracked through you, each one pulling at your chest as you sat alone. You had pictured a future where the two of you were making a life together, but it seemed so far away. You'd never felt so small and alone.

"Why?" you cried into the emptiness.

And then, as your hand rested over your belly, you whispered, through your tears, "I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this alone."

//

[ffsjustletmesleep]

Hi hi hi hi love ur work could u possibly write a fic in like after Alexandria era like season 11 where reader and Daryl are in an established relationship and reader has been really stressed out over something like maybe work or something for a while now and she comes home one day super stressed and Daryl who’s finally had enough of it tells her she needs to relax and blow off some steam, aka by gettin steamy 🤑🤑 I’d love to see Mr munch Daryl we all know he’s a pussy eater 🍽️

A/N: Thanks for the request :) so happy to do this for u, this is my first actual attempt at oral and writing s11 Daryl so I’m hoping this is good (and what you asked for) Enjoy! 🤍

Daryl Dixon x Reader

S11 in Alexandria

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Daryl finds a way to help you blow off some steam after a stressful day at work.

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex F!Recieving, mentions of blood. Minors Do Not Interact.

Living in Alexandria was a blessing in this world, being able to rest and shower, eat, and even have a family in the community without having to worry about walkers or other threats coming to harm your friends and family. You loved being there, most of the time. Work was a pain in the ass, sure you loved helping everyone, but today was miserable.

One of the groups had a run-in with a nasty group of people while they were on their way back from a supply trip. They managed to find a ton of supplies in a warehouse but ended up getting jumped. You ended up having to stitch up a kid's head and check the other for concussions.

The groan you let out as you stepped into the house made Daryl’s head perk up from the kitchen, almost mistaking you for a walker. He looked at you with a small chuckle. “What’s up with ya?” He asked as you came over to him and leaned against the counter.

Hanging your head forward, you pressed it against the cupboard with a sigh. “It was horrible, blood everywhere—literally!” You held your face and groaned once more.

Daryl let out a small snort and shook his head, putting his cup down in the sink and coming around behind you, putting his hands on your waist. “Sounds to me like ya’ need to blow off some steam, huh?” He hummed, his voice low and husky as his breath tickled your ear, pressing a kiss against your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice, biting your bottom lip at his touch. “I have to take a shower, babe… I’ve been medical all day…” you mumbled softly, leaning back into him and tilting your head, sighing as he littered your neck with light kisses.

He pulled you away from the counter and turned you around to look at you, taking in your tired, tense expression with a smile on his face. “Come on… lemme make it better...” he spoke quietly, picking you up with a soft grunt and carrying you upstairs to the bedroom.

Once he made his way upstairs, he opened the door, kicking it shut with his foot when he made it inside. He tossed you on the bed with a small ‘thump’ before climbing on top of you, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.

“Daryl…” you whined softly as you pulled away, looking up at him with a frown. “I have to shower... I’m all dirty from working,” you protested and couldn't help but giggle as he started to kiss your neck, his stubble tickling your skin slightly.

He let out a small chuckle and lifted your shirt up over your chest, kissing your sternum lightly as his hands ran over the bare skin of your waist. “Shh… don’t need no damn shower, just let me take care of ya...” he said, his lips trailing down to your stomach.

You felt the heat rushing to your face as you watched his head get lower and lower. Feeling as his hands skillfully unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down your legs, along with your underwear. Pushing your thighs apart and settling himself in between them.

“So good f’me..” He praised, rubbing your hip and kissing your thighs, sucking small marks on the skin as he made his way to your center. The way his hands caressed your skin made you feel hot, the rough pads of his skin against your soft.

The moment his lips met with your heat, you melted, laying your head back against the pillow, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging on it as you felt his tongue against you. He let out a soft groan as he tasted you on his tongue, pressing his face closer and lapping at your folds like he was starving.

Your hands grasped his hair tightly as you let out a soft whine, gasping out and moaning softly as his tongue traced circles around your clit before he sucked on it gently, making your back arch up off the bed slightly. “Oh��Daryl...!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the pillow.

His hands grasped your thighs tightly as he moaned against you, pressing his tongue into you and looking up at you through his hair, watching you squirm and moan as he moved his thumb over your clit, rubbing it in gentle circles.

The heat in your stomach began to build as your release grew closer, feeling your stomach tighten and your body tense at the way his tongue moved inside of you and his nose bumped against your clit as he rubbed it.

You felt your release wash over you and threw your head back, moaning out his name and tugging on his hair as your thighs squeezed his head. He slowed his thumb and let out a groan as you came on his tongue, lapping up your juices and helping you through your high before he slowly pulled away, licking his lips and hovering over you.

“Fuck, Daryl... didn’t even give me a minute to think...” you whined as you looked at him, panting softly. He smiled and pressed a kiss to your neck as he lay down next to you, pulling one of his dirty shirts from the basket by the bed and cleaning you up, before putting your underwear back on you.

“M’sorry sweetheart, I wanted to make you feel better...” he chuckled. You giggled and shook your head at him before wrapping your arms around him, laying your head on his arm. “It’s okay... It was amazing; I’m feeling a lot better after that…” you sighed, closing your eyes and pressing your face against him.

He wrapped his arms around you and lay on his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing your head with a soft sigh. “M’ glad I could help ya Sweetheart...” He whispered and reached over the nightstand, flicking off the light and lying back down.

(Im not great at ending fics— I had no idea what to write 😭 I apologize)

[worfs-glorious-hair]

The Earring

We all want Mystra’s earring gone, don’t we? And we want Gale to see how loved he is. How much we adore and desire him… So what if we get him a new earring when we reach the city?

Gale x Reader (Second Person POV; no name, no pronouns, no body descriptions; one line mentions that Reader/ Tav is a druid, but it doesn’t affect the plot at all); established relationship, fluff, some suggestiveness, some making out, some implied/ mentioned sexual activities later, still SFW (Teen up?)

~ 2,5 k words

“I have something for you”, you said one evening while sliding next to Gale on the balcony of your suite at the Elfsong overlooking the busy streets of the Lower City.

“Oh. You do? For me? You shouldn’t have. I don’t have anything for you”, he said, eyes big and sincerely sad.

You smiled and gently shook your head.

“You give me everything of you every day, I don’t need anything from you apart from what you wouldn’t be already giving me”, you told him.

“Besides”, you added, “gifts can be given whenever the giver wants to and are not expected to be returned. That’s their simple nature.”

Gale sighed and laced his fingers with yours that rested on the balcony’s balustrade, thumb stroking pensively over yours.

“I don’t deserve you. I truly don’t. But if we are already talking about the debt I owe you, go ahead and show me what you have for me. What difference makes one more grace I can not repay?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed at your stubborn lover, you would make sure that he would someday, hopefully soon, understand that he was truly, utterly and unconditionally loved by you.

His heart and brilliant mind would someday truly understand that you loved him for him, for the man he was, for his optimism and hope, for his cheerfulness and kindness, for his patience and wit, for his sarcasm and knowledge, for his boldness and cockiness when he flirted with you, especially on the battlefield. Your insides still fluttered and churned as you remembered that day in the shadow cursed lands when his eyes bore into yours as he had admitted his desire for you in the most beautiful, most Gale-esque way possible. Namely by telling you that he had once read a book on the subject of battles as a catalyst for other forms of stimulation and then continuing on by asking you if you had ever read anything similar yourself and you had wanted to rip your clothes off just there and then and to just let him have his way with you.

Instead you had just groaned and told him that you could have written that book.

And oh how everything inside of you, everything that you were, your yearning body, mind and soul had been singing when he had told you that you were especially beautiful after a battle with blood, sweat and grime still sticking to your face and armor, that all of this ugly of your impossible endeavour only made him want you more.

Meaning that he wanted you on a regular basis, perhaps he even had for some time.

This had been the day that the little sproutling of hope that had grown in your heart and soul since you pulled him out of the portal every time he had smiled at you, every time you had felt his eyes on you, every time that his hand had brushed over yours by accident or fate that he maybe, maybe, maybe cared for you like you cared for him, that he maybe, maybe, maybe yearned for you in the dark like you did for him had bust open in irrevocable bloom. There was no turning away from your devotion to him now anymore, no trying to rationalise your feelings away anymore (that you had been exceptional bad at anyways since the day you met him), there was just Gale and you and the thrill of battles and a curse to lift and a cure to find and a cult to demolish.

But you knew you could do it all, you knew you could take on the world, because you knew he was watching, because you knew that you would be rewarded with one of his burning looks whenever you would turn to him.

And you loved him for all of that and so much more than just that.

You loved him for his love for Tara and cooking and good wine and poetry, you loved him for his love of his home, you loved him for his strong hands, broad shoulders and beautiful, shimmering eyes.

He would some day truly understand that you loved him for the curve of his lips and nose, for his silky hair that felt like the softest waterfall between your fingers, for the way he drove you mad when he tied half of his hair up into a bun with some loose strands framing his face so beautifully. You loved him for his meticulously kept beard that burned so deliciously on your face and thighs when he kissed you, you loved him for the fact that his tunic smelled like a library, dusty ink and knowledge of centuries, and him, orange blossoms, plum and cedar.

You loved him for his voice that was just like him, kind, patient and always subtly laced with the confidence of a man who knew what talents, knowledge and gifts he possessed.

You loved him for the way he had used that same voice to whisper the sweetest, dirtiest nothings and praises into your ear while his fingers had coaxed you open and wetness out of you, preparing you for more.

And it was the same, anchoring voice that had soothed you when you had broken down night after night overwhelmed by the shadow cursed lands and it’s endless, undead darkness that was gnawing at your soul.

He had held you close to his chest during one of these nights while he had conjured a firework of coloured lights that had turned the dull orange light of your camp into a whirlwind of light and joys that could rival the dance grounds of pixies in the feywild and had fought the shadows away from camp but most importantly away from your soul.

He had kissed your temples and the top of your head with whispered ‘I love you’s and ‘I am here, dearest’s’ splattered in between.

This was one of the few nights in the shadow cursed lands that the shadows had not found their way into your dreams.

He would some day understand that you loved him for him and that he was in no shape or form indebted to you.

If anything it was the other way around.

You owed him and his love so much, you owed him everything.

“Here”, you said and placed a small velvet coated box on the balcony’s balustrade.

Gale looked at the box for a second and then back to you.

You smiled and urged him on by pushing it a little closer towards him.

“Go on, open it. I promise it’s not a mimic!”, laughing at your own joke.

“Very well, my love, let’s see what you have there for me”, he flashed you one of his warm, adoring smiles that you would never get enough of and just for that smile had everything been worth it already.

You bit down on your lip to stop you from grinning too excitedly but you still rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watched Gale closely as he undid the clasp on the box.

He breathed out, a barely audible oh escaped his lips as he careful took a look at what laid inside the box on a small moss green satin pillow.

He looked at you and you suddenly felt your confidence waning.

“It’s a selfish gift”, you admitted, “it’s a new earring for you! I don’t like it that you are still wearing… her… symbol after everything that happened, after everything she put you through, after everything she did to us”, you looked at him, pausing to see if Gale had anything to say, anything to counter, but he remained silent and waited patiently for you to continue, his face calm and eyes radiating warmth.

“I want you to have something from me instead, a piece of me and my love wherever you go. It’s my paw print as my wolf wild shape”, you quickly explained and pointed towards the silver pendant, Gale’s eyes followed your movements.

“The artificer scaled down the casting I took of my paw print in plaster and remade it in silver for you. And she engraved something for you, for us…”, Gale had been silent throughout your speech and took now gingerly the earring from it’s pillow and turned it around to read what had been engraved there.

I love you

“Touch the words”, you whispered.

And as he did they changed in a flick of gentle golden light.

I’ll come running if you need me

Gale has gotten somehow even more quiet than before, when he looked back at you.

You saw him swallow hard and his shoulders dropped, softening in the movement.

“Oh my love”, he eventually choked out. “Thank you! Whenever, wherever you need me, I’ll be there”, he promises and you smile gently at him.

“Of course you will. You always have. But I will be there, too. That’s what that means”, you tell him while pointing to the pendant.

“Call for me and I will come to you. It’s you and me for the rest of time now”, you softly assured him and reached out for his face as he smiled expectantly at you.

He met you halfway, leaning into your hand already welcoming your warm, gentle touch.

His hand was quick to press yours closer against his cheek, cradling your fingers with his.

“I love you, Gale! So much!”, your lips were brushing against his as you spoke and you felt his smile more than you saw it as he took it onto himself to close the remaining distance between the two of you.

“I love you, too, more than you will ever know”, he eventually told you as you part again, reluctantly and slowly.

“Can I put it on?”, Gale asked and you huffed.

“Why are you asking me? It’s yours now, do what you please with it. Tho I would very much like it if you wore it…”, you grinned.

“I suppose I got distracted by its beauty”, Gale shot you a burning look and you got the feeling that he perhaps was not talking about the earring anymore. You felt your grin widen without your doing and your cheeks getting warm, which could have been embarrassing but not with him. Not when he was the source of your joy and flushed cheeks.

“And I also can not fathom that it is mine now. Mine to carry. Mine to adore. Mine to worship. Mine to love for the rest of my life…”, another burning look, his gaze lingering on your eyes, only to flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. The tiniest of his smug, clever smiles danced over his lips as he carefully removed his old earring and kept his eyes locked on you.

Now was he doing it on purpose!

You bit down on your lips and felt heat spread from your belly all over your chest and arms and up your neck into your cheeks and you could feel it also coil deliciously around itself deep inside you…

And Gale knew exactly what he was doing to you and he enjoyed it.

His eyes still burned into yours and his smile only got smugger, he was visibly proud of himself as he fastened his new earring securely into place and you fought down the urge the slam him into the nearest wall and to kiss him senselessly.

“So, do you like it?”, he asked, voice purposely cheerful and bright, a stark contrast to his eyes still fixed on only you with a searing intensity that you briefly wondered how he did that, how his gaze could burn into yours like that and still getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s perfect”, you managed to say, while you noticed that your breath must have gotten stuck in your throat.

This man and what he did to you…

“Just because of you”, Gale said lowly and leaned in to kiss your exposed neck and jaw.

One hand resting on your waist and the other gently craning your head sideways to get a better angle at your neck.

You felt him gently nip and pull on the sensitive skin there and your hands fluttered into his hair and around his shoulders, only wanting him closer. And not caring that your companions were splattered over the rooms attached to the balcony.

“I may not have a gift for you in return but let me show you my gratitude in another way…”, he murmured against your neck, his beard tickling and scratching over your skin with each syllable and you laughed, your hand still tangled in his hair and the other arm wrapped around him.

You laughed at the sensation, you laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation, how much insane luck or an abundance of fate had been necessary for the two of you to meet and to fall in love?

You laughed because you felt alive and loved and happy. Despite the horrors you had witnessed and committed and would surely have to see and do more of in the near future.

Happy because of Gale!

Because of the love you had found.

You were bursting with happiness because your lover loved you too and life was beautiful with him in your arms.

“What?”, Gale asked, carefully, playfully smiling at your outburst of joy. Your joy was his and his was yours. Your happiness was contagious!

“I just love you very much”, you answered him as your laughter calmed down and a wide grin with sparkling eyes remained on your face.

“And I am very glad to have pulled you out of that stone. And”, you made a little pause for the dramatic effect. “I say we have to get rid of our friends there and then do I want to receive your full gratitude please…”

Gale looked at you like you often found yourself looking at him – like he could scarcely believe what he saw with his own eyes, like he could scarcely believe that you had chosen him.

But he believed his eyes and luck and his hand on your waits gently squeezed you and his eyes burned once again into yours.

You would never get enough of that look in his eyes, or him for that matter.

“Consider it done!”

You giggled, you just could not help yourself and stole a kiss from him.

One that he freely gave. And another. And another.

And Mystra’s star laid forgotten on the balustrade and glittered in the sun.

Which caught the attention of a magpie that was passing by in its flight and considered the glittering thing a valuable addition to its collection.

So the magpie took the star with it to its nest, where it now lays between other discarded and quite worthless jewellery, silver goblets and trinkets, colorful glass marbles and eggshells and sticks and downy feathers and bird droppings.

[skzdelf]

Strings and Storms | Han Jisung

⭑ PAIRING: Han Jisung x reader

⭑ SYNOPSIS: Han Jisung, is a renowned rapper, songwriter, and composer the world admires. He works tirelessly into unimaginable hours, always striving to give his absolute best but he never seems to know when to stop and give his body the rest it deserves.

WORDCOUNT: 0,9k (963)

A/N: divider is not mine!!

A loud thunderstorm woke you up from your sleep. The entire room was bathed in shadows, except for the fleeting moments when the lightning illuminated the vast sky, casting brief flashes of light into the room before being replaced by the deep rumble of thunder.

You turned in bed, reaching out to face your boyfriend, Han Jisung, hoping to fall asleep in his warm embrace. But your hand only met the cold, untouched side of the bed. He had never joined you in the room.

Grabbing your phone from the tangled sheets, you checked the time: 4:22 a.m.

You got out of bed, pulling on one of Jisung’s oversized hoodies to keep yourself warm from the chill brought on by the rain. Making your way down the hallway toward the kitchen, you already knew where he’d be—still in his studio, lost in his music, either composing or perfecting new sounds for his group’s next comeback.

You decided to prepare him a warm drink first, something to soothe his overworked body and mind. In the kitchen, you made him one of his favorite teas, lavender with two teaspoons of sugar, carefully pouring it into his SKZOO mug.

As you walked through the dimly lit hallway, the soft glow spilling from the slightly ajar door of Jisung’s studio guided your steps.

Inside, you found him hunched over his desk, one hand buried in his already messy black hair and the other clutching a pencil as he scribbled furiously onto scattered sheets of paper. Many of them were crumpled or violently crossed out.

“Hanji?” you called out softly, stepping into the room with the steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Jisung glanced up from his notes, his lips curling into a tired smile as his weary eyes blinked slowly.

“Hi, my love,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

“You haven’t slept at all, have you?” you asked, placing the mug carefully on the least cluttered spot on his desk. You moved closer, your fingers instinctively reaching for his hair, smoothing it gently.

He shook his head, leaning into your touch with his eyes closed, clearly craving even a moment of comfort.

Your gaze dropped to his hands resting on his lap. The tips of his fingers were red and raw, some of them showing faint traces of dried blood.

“Ji, I told you to be more careful with your fingers when playing the guitar,” you murmured softly, reaching out to take his hands. But he quickly pulled them away, hiding them from view.

“Let me see them, please,” you insisted gently, leaning closer. But he shook his head again, a weak smile playing on his lips as his eyes avoided yours.

“It’s nothing, really,” he whispered, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.

You cupped his cheek with your hand, tilting his face toward yours. “Ji, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to bear all of this alone?”

For a moment, the room fell silent. You could feel his breath grow heavier as though he was fighting an internal battle. Slowly, he lowered his hands, letting you take them into yours. The scars and marks left by hours of playing were evident, etched into his skin.

“You don’t get it,” he finally murmured, his voice breaking. “It’s not just for me… I do this for them—for the fans who believe in me. They expect the best. I can’t afford to let them down.”

“The fans wouldn’t be happy to see you hurting yourself like this,” you replied softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his hair. “Let me take care of your wounds, okay?”

“It’s not necessary,” Jisung rasped, shaking his head, though his resistance was weak.

Ignoring him, you left to grab the first-aid kit from the bathroom. When you returned, Jisung had already cleared a small space on his desk for you. He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a mix of exhaustion and affection.

“I’ll be quick,” you assured him as you sat down, taking one of his hands gently in yours. The other rested on your lap. His fingers, covered in faint scars and cuts from the guitar strings, trembled slightly under your touch.

“This doesn’t even hurt,” he tried to joke, though his voice lacked energy.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t take care of it,” you replied firmly, dabbing at his wounds with a damp cotton pad. His fingers flinched at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

The silence that followed was calm, broken only by the soft rustle of the cotton and his deepening breaths. When you looked up, you found him watching you, his expression a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken.

“You always worry too much,” he murmured, his voice laced with drowsiness.

“Because you don’t worry enough,” you countered softly, finishing the last bandage.

As you set the first-aid kit aside, you noticed his eyes beginning to close, his head dipping forward slightly.

“Jisung…” you whispered, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

He opened his eyes just enough to meet yours, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Only if you come with me.”

“Always,” you promised, helping him to his feet. He leaned on you slightly as you guided him back to the bedroom.

As soon as he lay down, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His bandaged fingers rested gently against your skin, a quiet reminder of the love and care that filled the space between you.

With a deep sigh, he drifted off to sleep, and not long after, you joined him, the sound of the storm outside fading into a peaceful silence.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

could I get an angsty one shot with a fluff ending for Benedict where his wife gets hurt but he doesn't know if she'll get better?

A/n: I am bad at angst....I hope I did this justice.

The walls of the Bridgerton estate had never felt so cold. The grand halls, once filled with laughter and warmth, were now suffocatingly quiet. The only sound that echoed through the corridors was the heavy, uneven breathing of Benedict Bridgerton as he paced outside the shared chamber of yours. It was the only thing that calmed him at the moment.

His hands shook at his sides, his fingers curling into fists, then releasing. He had washed the blood from them hours ago, but he could still feel the warmth of it, still see the crimson staining his skin. Your blood.

He knew it was something that was going to be haunting his dreams.

The accident had been sudden—too sudden. One moment, you had been standing beside him at the garden party, your laughter dancing through the air like music, your hand resting lightly in the crook of his arm. And then—chaos. The startled horses, the overturned carriage, the screams.

And the sight of your, crumpled on the ground, unmoving.

Benedict had dropped to his knees beside you, shaking hands pressing against your side, his voice breaking as he called your name. The memory played on an agonizing loop in his mind. The way your eyes had fluttered closed. The way your breath had shuddered before slowing.

The way he had felt his world crack open.

“Brother.”

The voice barely registered at first, but then a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, pulling him from the torment of his thoughts. Anthony stood beside him, his face unusually solemn, his gaze heavy with something Benedict didn’t want to name.

“Colin has gone for the doctor,” Anthony said quietly. “Mother is with her now.”

Benedict swallowed hard, his throat raw. He hadn’t been able to go inside. He had stood at the door like a coward, waiting for someone to tell him that she would be fine, that this nightmare would end. But no one had.

“What if she does not wake?” Benedict’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with fear. “What if—”

So many different scenarios running through his mind, so many horrible thoughts. His muse, the light of his life was injured and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

“She will,” Anthony cut in firmly. “She is strong.”

Benedict let out a breath that felt like a wound. “So was Father.”

The words hung between them like a ghost.

Anthony’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “You cannot think like that.”

Benedict wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that the woman who had become the very fabric of his existence, the woman who had taken his name and made it something worth carrying, would not leave him.

But when the door creaked open, and Violet Bridgerton stepped out, her face pale and worn, his heart nearly stopped.

“Is she—?” The words choked him.

Violet reached for his hand, squeezing it. “She is still unconscious, but the bleeding has stopped.”

Still unconscious....you still had a chance. Hopefully.

The relief was fleeting, overshadowed by the suffocating weight of uncertainty.

“I need to see her.” His voice was hoarse, desperate.

Violet nodded and stepped aside.

Benedict entered the dimly lit room with careful steps, his entire being drawn toward the figure in the bed. You looked too still, too pale against the stark white sheets. He knelt beside you, his trembling hand reaching out to brush against your cheek.

“My love,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, come back to me.”

The minutes stretched into hours, the only sounds in the room the crackling of the fireplace and the soft, unsteady rhythm of your breathing. Benedict never moved, never let go of your hand. He pressed his lips to your knuckles, his tears trailing down onto your skin.

And then....

A shuddered breath. A faint shift.

His head snapped up just as your eyelashes fluttered, your face scrunching slightly as though waking from a long dream.

Benedict felt his own breath catch, a desperate hope rising in his chest.

Your lip's parted as your eyes finally opened as you gave him a weak smile. "Benedict?"

A sound escaped him—something between a laugh and a sob. His fingers tightened around yours, his forehead dropping to your hand as relief crashed through him like a wave.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m right here, my love.”

You tried to move, wincing slightly, and he immediately pulled back, his hands hovering as though afraid to hurt you. But then you gave him a weak smile, your fingers barely brushing against his cheek.

“You look terrible,” you teased softly.

A laugh burst from his lips, shaky and filled with so much love it almost hurt. “You nearly die, and you insult me?”

You sighed, your thumb tracing over the worry lines on his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Benedict shook his head, his fingers brushing through your hair, pushing it back from your face. “No. Just—don’t ever do that again.”

Your smile faded slightly, replaced by something softer, something deeper. “I’m here and I will not go anywhere,” she whispered, repeating his own words back to him.

And with that, Benedict exhaled the breath he had been holding for what felt like a lifetime. He leaned forward, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered against your skin.

“I love you.”

You squeezed his hand, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I love you, too.”

And in that moment, with you warm and alive beneath his touch, Benedict finally allowed himself to believe it.

You were coming back to him.

You were staying by his side. He would make sure of it.

[phantomyre]

Before Vincent could prevent Lucrecia from touching Sephiroth, the silver-headed male deflected as though he had been touched by a burning torch. It was painful to behold, yet it wasn’t surprising to the gunslinger. Lucrecia flinched painfully when Sephiroth pulled away from her, simultaneously shocked by Jenova’s invasive thoughts. This caused Lucrecia to cry out and drop to her knees, gripping her head, the tears resuming their stream. Vincent immediately joined her side and held her close to his chest.

It was no use… “Sephiroth…” Lucrecia’s trembling voice was hardly anything more than a whisper as she buried her face against Vincent’s cloak, her tears staining the red velvet garment. Any hope she might have had to rejoin with her son had faded, and Vincent could feel it in her voice. “Lucrecia,” The gunslinger whispered, an equal amount of despondency in his own voice. “I shouldn’t have… perhaps I was wrong to…” The mournful mother trembled, but she managed to lift her head and look up at Vincent. She shook her head and seemed to realize how she had pushed Vincent away the entire time ever since Sephiroth had appeared. He chilled trembling fingers lifted and caressed Vincent’s face, aiding him to look at her. “N-no… no. Don’t be. You’ve done more for me than anyone. This…” She slowly turned to look towards Sephiroth, the painful knot in her throat swelling up, but she swallowed it back with much effort. To hear her own son tell to not touch him, and to treat her like some sort of disease… she understood. “…This was all my doing,” Lucrecia finished, her eyes directed at Sephiroth as she spoke to Vincent. “I’m the one who…” The words of Jenova once again rang in her head. Your every move… only damages him further. Tears poured down silently down both her cheeks. It was all true. There was nothing she could do to change what had happened. She knew he had been bred and raised to own a mighty power. At the time, she had thought Jenova to be an ancient, but as her time at Shinra came to a close, she realized who the alien was and what her son would become. And there stood the product of her choice—a weapon who would be wielded against the planet. Vincent had been kept in the dark. He had tried to stop her, but she had not only closed her ears to his pleas, but also chose to disregard the well-being of her child for the sake of science. This was her reward for her crimes. Bereft of a child she didn’t deserve… and one who would never see her anything but a monster. Lucrecia’s thoughts were once again diverted towards her son; her ears ever keen to his movements and his voice. His request made her fall silent. Though Vincent knew her asking Sephiroth was an invitation for issues, he was surprised to see her face looking as though she were weighing Sephiroth’s wish. The gunslinger searched Lucrecia’s face and gripped her shoulders as if to gently bring her back to reality. But he was once again ignored, and Lucrecia slowly stood up, Vincent following her movement as he too stood up, eyes locked upon the back of her head as she faced Sephiroth. “Sephiroth,” Lucrecia’s voice softened, this time keeping a respectful distance from him, letting him know she wouldn’t attempt to get close again. “…I understand. The people have wronged you. And this world sees you as a monster.” She lowered her head, her hands clasped over her chest as she continued softly. “You want closure… an end for those responsible for your suffering.” A tightness seemed to take hold of Vincent’s chest when he sensed what she was doing. “…I may not be able to fulfill all of your wish, and I know I cannot mend your heart. But…” She stood up straight, slowly holding her hands up towards him as if she were gifting him something in her hand. She then slowly opened her arms wide, the cold breeze flowing through her silk dress and soft tresses. “But if it will give you any sort of peace… I’m here for you.” Vincent’s eyes widened in horror. “Lucrecia?!”

Distraught, Vincent could only watch as Lucrecia fought Jenova in her head. It felt like the same nightmare playing in front of him. The only difference was there really wasn’t anything he could do to spare Lucrecia from Jenova. His words had gone unheeded, and while she fought the alien, Vincent tried to maintain whatever was going on with Sephiroth as well. He could tell Sephiroth’s patience was running thin, but he also detected that hopeful curiosity. It was now or never. But it was all up to Lucrecia, now.

Try as she might, Lucrecia couldn’t ignore the voice in her head. “I was wrong… horribly wrong,” The sorrow-filled woman shuddered at Jenova’s words, feeling every jab like a dagger to the heart. “I didn’t know that I would… I never wanted to hurt anyone. I wanted him to be happy, and be a part of the powerful people of Cetra. But I…” Vincent glared, having never heard Lucrecia’s confession in such a manner, but knowing it all to be true. He had witnessed everything and how she had spurned his warning. Nevertheless, he wasn’t guiltless either. There within the cave stood two individuals who could have spared Sephiroth’s life��the only ones who had some humanity, knowing right from wrong—Lucrecia and Vincent. Hojo was beyond deranged, and any bit of humanity in him was reserved for himself and no one else. Sephiroth had every right to not trust either of them. And at this rate, Vincent knew Lucrecia’s cries were falling on deaf ears. As Lucrecia began to explain the past to Sephiroth, Vincent watched Sephiroth’s expression with keen interest, marking anything he said or did. Though Sephiroth gave little visual queues, Vincent knew the silver-head’s mind was reeling. “I tried, Sephiroth… I truly did,” Lucrecia practically begged, not knowing how else to tell Sephiroth the dire situation that had forced her from him. “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near you.” She tensed her fists and looked away, a mixture of frustration and agony written all over her face and in her voice. When Sephiroth made mention of ending his life, her eyes widened and she turned looked up at Sephiroth, her eyes filled with sympathy and sorrow. He desired death… her beautiful son… It tore her heart to pieces. Tears streamed down her face. “Sephiroth…” Her motherly instincts could no longer be contained, and she pulled herself from Vincent’s grip, leaving him dumb-founded and worried for her safety. Her child was suffering. He had been suffering for too long. And even if every logic told her it was far too late, she didn’t care. She stopped just within arms reach of Sephiroth and looked up at her son, seeing no one but him. “…I knew there was no way to spare you, Sephiroth. Not only had they kept you out of my reach, but the Jenova cells—they…” She choked back as she continued to answer Sephiroth. “They wouldn’t allow you to die, and neither would they let me. But how could I kill an innocent child? I thought perhaps I would run away with you, but they took you from me.” She looked away from Sephiroth, trying to calm herself and restrain herself from hugging him. “Sephiroth…” She slowly turned her eyes up to him again, tenderness in her glittering pair of hazel colors. For several moments, she simply looked at him, admiring him with a motherly interest. Slowly, her soft hand reached up and caressed Sephiroth’s face, her touch warm and tender. “…You’ve suffered enough because of me.” Vincent watched intensely, torn between pulling her from Sephiroth and allowing her the moment she had dreamed of. What terrified him the most was the shift in her voice. There was a strange sense of resolve; the fear, the sorrow… it had melted away the moment she had chosen to step forward. “Lucrecia…?” “…What do you wish for the most, Sephiroth?” Lucrecia continued to speak. “Whatever I can do to ease your pain… I’m here for you.” The implications made Vincent’s heart stop. “The hell are you saying?” But he knew what she meant.

[legendary-69420]

The Party of the Year 2: A Celebration Written in the Stars

Chapter 12 : Part 2

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over Italy’s picturesque skyline. Back at the Spencer mansion, a whirlwind of activity took place. Mark’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating with an endless flood of messages from celebrities, actors, models, and his closest friends wishing him a happy birthday. The group chat buzzed with energy.

Lando: "Today’s all about you, King! Enjoy it!"

Mark: "Let’s be honest, what day isn’t about me? 😎"

That message earned a flood of laughing emojis.

The Arrival

Evening rolled around, and Charles, along with Lando, Carlos, Oscar, Yuki, Max, Pierre and others boarded a private jet to Italy. It had been two whole days since Charles had last seen Mark — two days too long, despite the usual video calls. A sense of anticipation coursed through him as they all shared stories, teased each other, and hyped up for what was shaping up to be the event of the season.

When they arrived at the grand estate, they were floored. The Spencer mansion was glowing with grandeur. Crystal chandeliers hung above an expansive marble courtyard that now served as the main dancefloor. Crowds of A-list celebrities, international models, and renowned artists mingled like they were old friends. Charles felt as though he'd stepped into an alternate universe where stars walked among mortals.

“Only Mark could make celebrities feel like regular people,” Charles thought as he watched the scene unfold. Helicopters buzzed in every now and then, dropping off guests, each arrival more extravagant than the last.

But where was Mark?

Then, like time itself had frozen, Charles��� eyes found him. His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitching in his chest as Mark stood near the open bar, mid-conversation with a famous actor. Under the glow of soft, warm lights, Mark’s skin shimmered. His sharp jawline was on full display, his sleek black suit hugging his frame perfectly. A few undone buttons revealed the strong curve of his chest. His tousled hair had just the right amount of effortlessness, as if it naturally fell into place like that.

Mark’s eyes locked with Charles’ from across the crowd, and for a moment, it felt as if the world around them dissolved into a quiet hum. The noise of the party dulled, colors softened, and in that stillness, something electric passed between them—silent but undeniable. Charles’ breath caught, his pulse quickening, and he swore he could feel the warmth of Mark’s gaze settle on him like the first rays of dawn. A knowing grin tugged at his lips, and with a quick apology to the actor, he made his way over to them.

Max, Mark's rival, unsurprisingly, was the first to pull Mark into a quick, firm hug, clapping him on the back like they weren’t rivals on track. Carlos joined. Lando was next, then Oscar, Yuki, Pierre, and the rest of the crew. Each of them exchanged their own playful comments, congratulating him.

“Look at you, all famous and flawless,” Lando joked, squinting at Mark. “What brand of makeup is that, bro? Drop the skincare routine.”

“Yeah, spill the secret,” Yuki chimed in, nudging him with a grin.

Before Mark could respond, his manager appeared from behind, startling him.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP DOING THAT?!” Mark jumped, hand on his chest, heart racing. His eyes widened with a mix of shock and annoyance, his breath hitching as if his soul had briefly left his body. “One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he muttered, still catching his breath.

The manager shook his head, clearly annoyed. "You’re one to talk. You ran off from your makeup chair from boredom before the artist even touched your face!"

Silence.

"Wait… what?" Max’s eyes squinted in disbelief.

"Are you telling me he looks like this with zero makeup?" Lando’s voice rose an octave as he pointed at Mark like he’d just seen a ghost. "WHAT THE ACTUAL—"

Even Charles’s eyes flickered with something unfamiliar. Awe? Shock? Jealousy? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Mark looked like perfection itself.

Silence. Everyone’s gaze shifted to Mark.

“What?” Mark blinked innocently. “I… may have left early.”

Everyone’s laughter echoed through the courtyard.

The Party Began

The lights dimmed, the music rose, and suddenly, the party came to life. Celebrities performed on stage, each performance more electrifying than the last. A DJ spun tracks that kept the crowd on their feet, and soon, everyone was lost in the music, laughter, and movement.

Mark was at the center of it all. He was everywhere. Taking selfies with Lando and Yuki. Signing autographs. Dancing alongside artists like Dua Lipa. He’d click photos with Alexandra, and at one point, they faked a peck on the cheek for the camera, causing an uproar of cheers and flashes. Charles’ brows furrowed at the sight, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar, but it melted away when he realized it was all playful affection as if it was their way of showing affection. And Just Mark being Mark.

But Charles’ gaze sharpened when he noticed a change in Mark’s demeanor. It was subtle, something no one but him would have caught. His smile faltered—just for a heartbeat. His eyes darted, catching sight of someone.

Paul Mescal.

Mark’s carefree posture shifted. Charles knew Mark better than anyone. He saw it. That’s different, he thought, standing, ready to walk over.

But before he could reach him, someone’s voice made him freeze. "Hey Honey"

"MOM?!?!!? What are you doing here?!"

Pascale, Charles’ mother, laughed, eyes crinkling. “Mark invited me, darling"

"And I was the first to get an invitation—before Arthur, even.” She winked.

“Lorenzo’s here too, by the way.” Charles looked around to see his older brother talking to a small group of people.

Charles blinked in shock, his gaze bouncing between his mom and the party. Of course, Mark had invited her. Why wouldn’t he?

His confusion gave way to a fond smile as he watched his mother wave to Isabella Spencer like they were old friends.

His heart twisted. His mom talking to his crush's mom. Too much.

When it was time for the cake, the energy in the room crescendoed. The lights dimmed, and the first notes of "Happy Birthday" rang out. Fireworks lit up the night sky, adding magic to the moment. The combined melody of voices—friends, celebrities, and family—harmonized in a way that felt surreal.

Mark, being Mark, couldn’t help himself. "Happy birthday to me~!" he sang out, over the chorus, earning a few laughs from the crowd.

When it was time for a toast, everyone raised their glasses and cheered for him. Charles’ eyes lingered on Mark’s smile for just a second too long to which Mark replied the same.

The Night Unfolds

The party’s energy exploded. Performances by celebrities filled the venue. Drinks flowed freely. Mark was at the center of it all, moving from group to group, effortlessly commanding attention. Everyone wanted a moment with him, and he obliged with that natural charm only he possessed.

At one point, he posed with Alexandra again, their faces close as they faked a kiss for the camera. Charles’ chest tightened for a split second before he caught himself. It’s just for the photo, he reminded himself. And when Alexandra playfully smooched Mark’s cheek, Charles’ eyes narrowed before he shook his head, laughing it off.

Lando teased him about his "Instagram boyfriend" pictures with Alexandra, one shot looking like they were about to kiss. Charles’s stomach churned with something sharp and unfamiliar, but he brushed it off as a trick of the lights.

After-Party Intimacy

As the party winded down, only close friends remained. Mark’s parents had left, but not before Alessandro gave Charles a knowing look. Everyone lounged around, half-drunk, half-asleep, except for Mark.

Most of the guests had left. Only the core group remained, sprawled across the lounge in various states of exhaustion and intoxication. Mark’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes dreamy. He’d found a guitar—of course.

"WHERE DOES HE KEEP FINDING THESE THINGS?!" Charles shouted.

Mark strummed softly, his voice floating like silk over the notes. It was raw, unfiltered, and filled with something deep and real. Everyone sang with him.

For Charles, it was a realization. No one here was pretending. Everyone cared about Mark. Genuinely. And that realization hit him harder than expected.

Charles watched him with a soft smile. His shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair tousled, his face glowing. Mark grabbed a guitar, and Charles’ heart clenched. Here we go.

Mark’s fingers moved with natural ease. His voice was honey-dipped velvet, raspy from drink but still so clear it could break hearts. The melody was slow, sad, and raw. Everyone’s eyes were on him. The world seemed to shrink to this one moment. His gaze never broke from Charles’.

A Moment Just For Two

By the pool, Mark stood, his grin easy but his eyes tired. Charles followed without knowing why. When Mark turned to face him, Charles' chest ached.

Without thinking, Mark cupped Charles' face, heart racing like it was on track at full speed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Mark leaned in.

Their lips met softly, like the start of a symphony—gentle, slow, but growing in intensity. Charles’ fingers slid up Mark’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. Their breaths mixed in the space between them, and for a second, they stayed like that, motionless but entirely present.

Charles pulled back, his eyes lingering on Mark’s lips. “Happy Birthday, Mark,” he whispered, voice soft but firm.

Mark blinked, his grin lazy, dazed. “Thank you.”

For once, things weren’t awkward. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was just them.

The weight of the moment lingered between them like the remnants of a melody neither of them wanted to end. But eventually, their exhaustion caught up with them. They sat back down on the couch, still lost in a shared daze. Mark yawned first, tilting his head back onto the cushion, and Charles followed suit. Before either of them realized it, they had drifted off.

The Next Morning

Sunlight filtered in through the large glass windows, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. The faint hum of birds chirping outside was the only sound, until the hushed giggles of their friends broke through the quiet.

Lando crouched near the couch, phone in hand, the screen tilted just right to capture the scene before him. His grin was devious as he rapidly snapped several photos. Carlos stood behind him, arms crossed, a sly smirk on his face. “Unbelievable,” Carlos whispered, shaking his head.

“Tell me you’re seeing this,” Pierre snickered, leaning in for a closer look.

“Seeing it and saving it,” Lando muttered, his phone still clicking away. “This is prime blackmail material.”

Charles and Mark were sprawled across the sofa, limbs tangled in the most ungraceful, uncoordinated manner possible. Mark’s arm was slung lazily across Charles’ chest, his face pressed against Charles’s shoulder, while Charles’ head rested at top of Mark’s, his mouth slightly open in sleep. It was the very picture of pure, undisturbed peace — and undeniable closeness.

“Should we wake them?” Yuki asked, already snickering as he reached for a pillow.

“Absolutely,” Max answered, grabbing the nearest water bottle and giving it a playful shake.

“Don’t you dare,” Carlos warned, swatting the bottle away. “We’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lando grinned wider, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Fine, but I’m definitely sending these to the group chat.”

The soft vibration of Charles’s phone woke him up first. His eyelids fluttered open, his face scrunching in confusion as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The sight of Mark's face so close to his own made him jolt slightly, but it wasn’t until he noticed the grins of their friends that full awareness hit him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Charles groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You guys are actual children.”

“Children with evidence,” Lando shot back, holding up his phone like it was a trophy.

Mark blinked awake next, his brows furrowing as he took in the scene. His eyes flitted from Lando’s phone to Carlos’s smirk to Yuki’s barely contained laughter. Then he glanced up at Charles, their disheveled state finally dawning on him.

“Oh,” Mark muttered, grinning slyly as he leaned his head back against the cushion. “So, who’s printing the posters of this moment? I want the high-resolution version.”

Everyone burst into laughter, Yuki nearly falling over. “You’re unbelievable,” Pierre snorted, wiping at his eyes.

Charles shoved Mark lightly, trying to play it cool despite the lingering warmth in his chest. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled, cheeks flushing red. “At least we didn’t fall asleep with our mouths open like Pierre at Monza.”

“Hey!” Pierre protested, pointing at him with mock offense. “That was one time!”

“Sure, man,” Mark replied, nudging Charles as they shared a glance filled with unspoken amusement.

It wasn’t the first time their friends teased them, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But for once, Charles didn’t mind. His heart was still light from the night before, and if anyone noticed the way he leaned just a little closer to Mark as they sat there, no one said a word.

(Dividers by @omi-resources)

[letterstoalonewolf]

Poison from the Same Vine

​​ Jasper Hale x Reader

Summary: Jasper Hale was a man at war—with himself, with his past, and now, with her. Y/N was the one thing he could never have, never touch, but the bond between them was suffocating, inescapable—two souls entwined in sin and salvation, running from the daylight yet desperate for its warmth.

Based on the song: Daylight by David Kushner

───────────────────────────────

Telling myself I won’t go there Oh, but I know that I won’t care Tryna wash away all the blood I’ve spilt

Jasper had lived a long life filled with regret. A hundred and sixty years, and still, the weight of his sins sat heavy on his shoulders. No amount of time could wash away the crimson stains on his hands, no prayers could absolve him of the things he had done.

And yet, here she was.

Y/N.

The one thing in this world that made him feel like he could be something other than a monster. And he hated it.

Hated how his body gravitated toward hers. How her scent was the only thing he could never block out, no matter how much he tried. Hated the way she looked at him—like he wasn’t a killer, like she saw something in him worth saving.

Because he wasn’t.

And she shouldn’t.

But he couldn’t stay away.

This lust is a burden that we both share Two sinners can’t atone from a lone prayer Souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt

Jasper was gone before he could think better of it, moving across the small stretch of space between them with the speed of a ghost. Y/N barely had time to register his presence before he was there, pressing her back against the rough bark of a towering pine tree.

Her breath hitched.

His hands gripped the tree on either side of her head, shoulders tense, muscles coiled like a predator on the verge of pouncing.

“This ain’t right,” Jasper muttered, more to himself than to her, voice low, desperate.

Y/N swallowed. “Then why are you here?”

The question hung between them, thick as the fog rolling through the forest. Jasper’s golden eyes burned into hers, flickering with something dark, something unspoken.

“You know why,” he rasped.

Her pulse spiked. He felt it, could hear it hammering inside her ribcage like a warning bell, but she wasn’t afraid. She should have been. He wanted her to be. Maybe then, he could do the right thing and leave.

But she wasn’t afraid.

She lifted a hand, fingers ghosting over the sleeve of his shirt. Jasper flinched but didn’t move away, his jaw clenching so tight she could hear the faintest crack of his teeth grinding together.

“Jasper,” she whispered.

His name in her voice was his undoing.

With a growl, he gripped her wrist, pinning it against the tree above her head. He wasn’t rough, but there was a warning in his touch.

“I’m not good, darlin’,” he told her, voice almost pained. “You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

She smiled, soft and knowing. “Yes, I do.”

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time You and I drink the poison from the same vine

Jasper let out a sharp breath, head dropping forward until his forehead nearly brushed hers.

He could feel everything she felt—the anticipation, the desire, the sheer, unwavering certainty that no matter how much he fought this, he would lose.

Because this wasn’t something he could fight.

It was written into his bones, into the very fabric of his being.

She was his.

And he was hers.

Whether he liked it or not.

His fingers loosened around her wrist, sliding down until he was cradling her hand in his, tracing the delicate lines of her palm. Y/N watched him, waiting, never pushing.

Jasper swallowed. “You should run.”

She shook her head.

“You should hate me.”

She smiled. “Never.”

A bitter chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You should.”

“Do you hate me?” she asked.

Jasper lifted his head, eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t think I know how.”

And then, finally, he gave in.

He kissed her.

It was a slow burn, a war waged in silence, in the press of lips and the brush of tongues. Jasper held her as if she was the only thing tethering him to this world, hands cradling her face like she was something fragile, something holy.

And maybe, to him, she was.

Hidin’ all of our sins from the daylight From the daylight, runnin’ from the daylight

The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

Jasper exhaled against her lips, reluctant. “We shouldn’t.”

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Then don’t let anyone find out.”

He smirked. “That easy, huh?”

She grinned. “With you? Never.”

And as the morning light crept over the horizon, they stayed hidden in the shadows, bound together by something neither of them could name—something dark, something dangerous.

Something inevitable.

➽─────────────❥➽─────────────❥

[vaguely-human-man]

I'm so annoying to authority figures because I'm literally just built different. One time I escaped handcuffs on accident because of the combination of tiny hands+hyper mobility and then apologized and asked the officer to put them back on. He was *really* pissed because this was the second time this had happened during two different arrests.

[hauntingblue]

Gear 5 luffy's laugh is so contagious I just hear the drums and go insane how does this work. What did he do to me

[rafedarling]

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

request: open

pairing: drew starkey x actress!reader

summary: new parents and beloved hollywood couple drew and you take to the jimmy kimmel live stage to discuss your latest movie project together, which releases in may. between balancing new parenthood and demanding film schedules, you two finds yourself sharing a funny, heartfelt stories about life on set with their baby girl, emma starkey. a viral behind-the-scenes video brings laughter to the show, as you discuss how parenting has influenced your lives and careers. based on today drew interview on jimmy kimmel live interview.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, humorous parenting moments, discussions of balancing work and family life.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy

gif: rafedarling

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next guests are not only Hollywood’s favorite power couple but also the stars of the highly anticipated romantic-action film Against All Odds, which hits theaters this May. And if that’s not enough, they’ve recently stepped into the chaotic world of parenthood with their baby girl, Emma. Please welcome Drew Starkey and Y/N!”

You can hear the audience roared with applause as Jimmy Kimmel welcomed his next guests.

You and Drew walked out hand in hand, smiling and waving to the audience. Drew’s free hand rested on your back as he guided you to the guest couch. The applause was deafening, with some cheers and whistles peppered in. You laughed as Jimmy gestured to quiet the audience.

“Wow,” Jimmy said, shaking his head.

“You guys have the crowd in a frenzy. I mean, Hollywood’s hottest couple and now officially parents? Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at the crowd. “It’s been a crazy year.”

“Yeah,” Drew chimed in, “between the movie and the baby, I’m not even sure what sleep feels like anymore.”

The audience laughed, and Jimmy leaned forward.

“Okay, we have to start with the most important question: How’s parenthood treating you? You’ve got a baby girl, Emma. How’s life with a newborn?”

Drew chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s… humbling, to say the least. Being a first-time parent is no joke. I don’t think I could survive it without this one,” he said, nodding toward you.

You playfully nudged him. “Oh, stop it. You’re doing great.”

Jimmy smiled. “Okay, Y/N, your turn. How’s life as a mom?”

“It’s amazing,” you said, your voice softening.

“I mean, it’s exhausting, but Emma’s such a sweet baby. Watching her grow and discover the world makes all the sleepless nights worth it.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “Sleepless nights? Drew, are you pulling your weight with those 3 a.m. feedings and diaper changes?”

Drew grinned, holding up his hands defensively.

“Absolutely. I’ve mastered the art of the one-handed diaper change. My record is forty-three seconds.”

The audience erupted in laughter, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s not lying. But let’s not forget the time you forgot to put the diaper on at all.”

The crowd gasped with laughter as Drew shook his head, groaning.

“Okay, in my defense, I was running on two hours of sleep. And the burp cloth worked just fine… temporarily.”

Jimmy laughed, slapping the desk. “You’re officially a dad now, Drew. Forgetting a diaper is like a rite of passage.”

Drew nodded solemnly. “It’s a learning curve.”

Jimmy turned his attention back to you. “Now, let’s talk about Against All Odds. The trailer has everyone excited. What can you tell us about the movie?”

You leaned forward slightly.

“It’s a romantic-action film about two rival spies played by Drew and me who are forced to work together on a mission to stop a global threat. Of course, things get complicated when they realize they have a shared past.”

“Ah, a little romance, a little action,” Jimmy said. “And a lot of explosions, I’m guessing?”

“Definitely,” Drew said.

“The stunts in this film are insane. We’ve got car chases, hand-to-hand combat, and this one sequence where Y/N literally jumps out of a helicopter.”

The audience gasped, and Jimmy’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me Y/N did her own stunts?”

You shrugged with a smile. “Most of them, yeah. The helicopter scene was terrifying, but the adrenaline rush was worth it.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And how did you feel about your wife jumping out of a helicopter while pregnant?”

“Oh, that scene was filmed before we knew about Emma,” Drew said quickly.

“But I still worried about her constantly. Every time she’d do a stunt, I’d be off to the side like, ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’”

You laughed. “He was basically my personal cheerleader-slash-bodyguard.”

Jimmy shook his head, smiling. “And Y/N, how was filming while pregnant? Did the crew make accommodations for you?”

“They were amazing,” you said.

“They adjusted the schedule so that I could rest when I needed to, and they made sure I always had plenty of snacks on set.”

“Snacks were essential,” Drew added. “She had a bag of trail mix with her at all times.”

Jimmy laughed. “It sounds like the two of you had a lot going on behind the scenes. Speaking of which, I have to ask about the viral video. You know the one.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. Drew laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh no. You’re not really going to show it, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Jimmy said, grinning.

“For anyone who hasn’t seen it, this is a behind-the-scenes video of Drew and Y/N on set. Drew’s building a baby crib, and Y/N is… well, just watch.”

The screen infront and behind you lit up with the video. The audience howled as they watched Drew hammering away at a crib while you sat on a couch with a breast pump. The rhythmic “whirr, whirr” of the pump provided the perfect comedic soundtrack as Drew worked intently. At one point, you casually scrolled through your phone, looking completely unbothered.

When the video ended, the audience erupted into cheers and laughter. Jimmy was wiping tears from his eyes.

“So my question is… is this what you do on set?”

“Well,” Drew said, still chuckling, “Emma needed a crib, and we didn’t have one on set. So, naturally, I decided to build one during a break.”

“And I,” you added with a grin, “was taking care of my part of the parenting duties. Multitasking at its finest.”

Jimmy shook his head, laughing.

“You two are the epitome of modern parenthood. Drew, do you moonlight as a carpenter now?”

Drew smirked. “Not yet, but give me a few more months of parenting, and I’ll be building treehouses.”

The audience laughed again, and Jimmy leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, last question: How do you balance it all? Filming, parenting, being a couple; what’s the secret?”

You exchanged a glance with Drew before answering.

“Honestly, communication is everything. We make sure to check in with each other and divide responsibilities as evenly as possible.”

“And coffee,” Drew added. “Lots of coffee.”

Jimmy nodded sagely. “Coffee and communication. Words to live by.”

The interview wrapped up with more laughs, and even a clip from Against All Odds. As the applause filled the studio, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the life you and Drew had built on and off the screen. together.

[hurlingdown]

                   DEAL WITH THE DEVIL !? ☆

synopsis. in a fit of jealousy, suguru makes a deal with the devil. in exchange for being the only one you would ever fuck, he would have to become a sleeve tailor made for your cock. in other words, your very personal whore. wc. 4.2k

tags. top! reader, sub! geto. reader is a dilf. brat! suguru, brat tamer! reader. hardcore dom/sub. rough anal sex, orgasm denial, switching positions (riding, missionary, doggy), sir kink, mixture of degradation & praise kink, dacryphilia, age difference, objectifying, heavy use of whore, pillow princess learns how to ride dick, cum-eating, spit kink, jealousy, subspace, blowjob, yandere! geto undertones, possessiveness.

a/n. suguru gets railed within an inch of his life. good things happen.

“I bet you had plenty fun out there,” Suguru slurred, “dancing with that pretty ‘gal. Probably forgot all about me, too—the two of you were lost in your own little world.” 

Suguru slouched over you to rest his head in the crook of your neck, thighs straining where they bracketed your hips. You could feel his every heated breath against the protrusion of your jugular vein, the sweat of his palms seeping into your skin, burning a path down to hell wherever they went. The awkward shift of his muscles as he raised himself with difficulty, only to plummet down harshly. 

There was no rhythm in the ride. No patience. No tenderness in the way he touched you, branded you with him. Suguru was pissed at you, and you knew it. 

“Suguru,” you moaned, sweaty hands settling on his hips, trying to help him ride, but he swatted your hands away every time you so touched him. At this rate, both of you were going to wake up with bruises tomorrow—and not the kind that felt good. “Fuck, baby, you’re hurting yourself. Let me.” 

He only shook his head, shivering. “Why should I,” he scoffed, “when you don’t even want me. You only want—whatever this is. You only want to fuck a hole. So here I am. A hole for you.” You could tell he was biting his lip, another shudder wracking through his body, and the sight tore into you like a contusion, making you throb. “You can close your eyes and imagine it’s her you’ve got your cock in. She’s prettier, anyway, older than me, too—maybe you’d enjoy it better.” 

“You know that’s not true,” you reasoned, swallowing down a groan as he clenched around you with a ferocity, like he wanted it to hurt. “I only danced with her because you- you were ignoring me in the first place. Please, baby. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t—don’t you fucking baby me.” Suguru lifted his head, a glare so full of hurt that it dug into you like a jagged blade. “We’re not even a thing. Y-you don’t want to make us a thing.” He swallows harshly, before muttering, “Legal enough for a few good fucks, but too young for anything real.” 

The underlying accusation made you bristle. You had never protested anything beyond this point—but this was just unfair to you. You didn’t want to make the two of you a thing? Was he fucking serious? And—too young for anything real? How many times have you reassured him that it didn’t matter to you? 

“I believe the reason why you were ignoring me in the first place,” you kept your voice quiet and steady, “was because I brought us up and like a brat, you didn’t want to talk about it. You never want to talk, Suguru. It’s never the right time to talk for you. And now you think, after I go off dancing with someone else to take my mind off the headache you’ve given me, you can act all jealous like I fucked them in front of you.” 

You knew you were going to regret your next words, but at that moment, the immature desire to teach him a lesson overshadowed any sense of rationality. The anger, the disbelief, everything made it harder to think. And you were only human. 

Suguru glowered at you almost childishly, daring you to finish. 

“And maybe I really should, next time,” you continued. “Since you don’t think I’m making any effort. Maybe someone else will appreciate it.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he whispered. 

You frowned. “Suguru—” 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” 

“Suguru,” you snapped. “Don’t raise your voice at me.” 

He froze up at your sudden switch in tone, something darker, more guttural. Something you only used when you were talking to an unruly brat in the bedroom. Suguru slowly raised his head in confusion. “What?” 

“I know you’re pissed,” you muttered. “But don’t forget whose cock you’re sitting on, right now. If you want to bring this up while we’re having sex, go ahead, but stick to the rules.” 

 “Are you fucking serious—” 

You snapped your hips up, and he moaned, a pretty, tremulous sound. Suguru turned his head to glare at you weakly, half-panting already. It was funny how you could almost reduce him to a dog in heat with merely an inch of control. 

“Yes,” you affirmed. “Now, you can either get off, throw your little tantrum, and walk out of this relationship forever; or you can be a good boy and deal with this reasonably. Which one is it?” 

He parted his lips, as though he wanted to argue, but you only levelled him with an unimpressed look. He huffed, stubbornly glancing away. 

“Well? Suguru?” 

“... Keep going,” he scowled, cheeks flushing. You blinked at him in amusement, not even bothering to bite down the snark that filled your expression at his wishful words. He frowned. “What? Move already.” 

“Oh, no. I’m not gonna do the work for you,” you drawled, hands crawling up his thighs to give them a taunting little squeeze. “See, you didn’t want to let me help you, earlier—I guess you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself.” You paused, smiling at him. “Ain’t that right?” 

“Fuck you,” he spat. 

“You sure you want to keep that attitude tonight, Suguru?” 

A shiver climbs up his spine, and he shakes his head after a reluctant moment. He knew the consequences of misbehaviour. How you could take him over your lap and make him count every strike, keep him deprived of cock until he was crying and slobbering, begging for something, anything, to replace the ache of emptiness inside him. 

… And he also knew what those hands could do if he behaved himself properly. 

“I’ll be your good boy,” Suguru mumbled. “Fuck me? Please?” 

His hands curled into fists on your shoulders, and he glanced at you, almost expectant. Your hands continued to travel upwards, rubbing slow circles onto the jut of his hipbones, making him sigh in bliss. How easy it was for him to accept your affection as a sign of forgiveness. Too easy, even. 

“Let’s see how good you do by yourself, first.” 

His gaze snapped to yours in defiance, the look of a spoiled brat—and you wanted to break it. You wanted to see him sob and whimper and moan as pounded into his twitching hole, rough, violent, the way that made his eyes roll back in ecstasy and mouth part in hoarse, pleasured screams. 

“But I’ve said please already,” Suguru retorted. “You can’t expect me to—” 

“Last I remember, I gave you two choices, Suguru. You took the second one. This is the second one.” 

“Fucking asshole,” he snarled. “Fine.” 

“Language,” you chastised, but Suguru paid no mind, elbows slung over your shoulders to cage you in a half-hug, shifting on his knees to get better leverage. He rolled his hips—the way you had taught him to before, forward, go down, backward, go up. Slow circular motions that smushed your cock, in just the right angle, against the throbbing gland nesting inside him, soft moans leaving his lips. It was nothing like the careless violence before. 

This was so much better. 

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” Your annoying voice rang, almost a lullaby in the way it made his eyes fall lidded, a whine building at the back of his throat. His body was so attuned to receiving pleasure—it made a whole difference when the reigns were in his hands, now. Fuck. If only you could take him already.

It was good, just bearably so, for a few minutes. Suguru struggled to gain rhythm, rocking down with a little more meaning, just to feel you slide in a little deeper each time, reaching all the dirty places inside his body no one else ever could. He tried to focus on movement and control, instead of getting lost in the way your girth would massage his taut walls, as though telling him to ease up already. 

He scowled. None of this would be a problem if you weren’t so damn difficult. And stingy. 

“Shit,” he cursed, pressing his forehead against the solid grill of your shoulder. “I’m n-not gonna, hnnn, make it if you don’t… don’t d-do something.” 

Suguru could feel the tension in his hamstrings with every slow bounce, the heat curling in his distended abdomen, a tell-tale sign that he was close to teetering over the edge. He could feel your thighs flexing beneath his, and clearly it felt good for you, too, so why, why won’t you just stake your claim on his insides already and turn him into a helpless, sobbing mess, like you always do? 

“Go ahead. I never said you couldn’t come.” 

Fuck that. Of course he wanted to fucking cum—just not like this. Not when you were merely holding him like he were nothing more than another toy, built for your pleasure. Suguru could be good. He could play as your pretty little whore. Hell, he would let you use him wherever and whenever you wanted to. But there was one condition to all of this generosity. 

You were his. 

And if you were going to treat him nothing more like a fleshlight you had rented from a sex shop, something to be borrowed and returned and tossed aside, then he wasn’t going to take it quietly. 

This wasn’t fair to him, not at all. You were being unfair. 

“Look at me,” he grit out. “Look at what you’re doing to me.” 

Suguru grabbed your hand, rubbing your palm against his sticky crotch until your fingers loosely wrapped around his length, a desperate moan spilling out from him as he rutted into your grasp. It was good, but not enough. Hardly. He wanted your hands on every part of him that they could reach. He wanted more. 

To his surprise, you didn’t snap at him for breaking the rules; that, or use your age, size or his willingness to your advantage. Your grip only tightened on his twitching cock, choking a whine out of him. He lifted his head to glance at you with heady eyes, shivering at the interest in your gaze. 

It only spurred him on. 

“This,” he slurred, resting a hand on his slightly swollen stomach, “is yours.” He lifted his hips and moved his hand lower, lower, prodding at the slick-coated length that emerged underneath him with the pad of his forefinger. “Now this… this is mine. You understand?” 

Your breath hitched, arousal building rapidly at his sultry words. This was new, and not bad at all. If this was the game he wanted to play… you supposed you could play along, for now. Just to let him have his fill of fun. 

“They can look at it, touch it, even take pictures of it… but I own the only two holes that you can be inside of. Ever.” Suguru knew he was being selfish, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t bear to ride something that didn’t belong to him—something that had been tainted by the filth of your other toys. He continued, “I can play by your rules. Be your good whore. Shut up when you tell me to. But play by mine, too.” 

“Greedy,” you snarked. “But fine.” 

He looked pleased at your easy acceptance. 

“Good. Now look at m-me, properly, when I cum on your cock.” 

You kept your word, letting him take the lead. It was obvious he was still getting used to steering with the reigns so unceremoniously thrust into his hands, but fuck, was it hot. You stroked him, your touch rough but still reverent, thumb digging into his beading slit at times, making him cry out as he rode you with renewed vigour. 

“Both hands on me,” he ordered, before hastily adding, “please.” 

He didn’t tell you where, so you put your fingers in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you panted, almost losing yourself in the way he fluttered around you tirelessly, soaking you up and taking you in. The rhythm of his bounce. The sensual roll of his hips. The obscene whimpers and shudders that sent vibrations into your body whenever he fucked himself a little too good. You loved it all. You wanted it all. If this was what you were getting in exchange for a little rule-breaking, then you would do it a thousand times over. 

Suguru was gasping, thighs twitching, moaning senselessly and drooling around your fingers, and you knew he was about to break from the pressure. Oh, well. He did a good run, for his first time. 

You let go of his cock, and he nearly screamed out in frustration. 

“No, fuck, no, no, no—” 

“But what?” you hummed, and Suguru wanted to wipe that innocent smile off your face with violence. “You said you’d cum on my cock, darling. I don’t see why you need my hands on you.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” he snapped. What was wrong with you? Weren’t you edging yourself, too? Wasn’t it painful for you, to be denied of release? You were being so frustrating. 

“I played by your rules, sweets.” You pressed a tender kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he let out a helpless shiver. “This cock right here?” You nudged upwards to force your cockhead against his stomach walls, earning you a filthy whine. “All yours. But don’t forget. You promised to be my whore in exchange for that. Now, we don’t condone breaking promises, do we?” 

“N-no, but it doesn’t explain why you had to stop—” 

“Because I wanted to.” You let a small smile creep onto your face, relishing in the glazed look in his eye, the quiver in his bottom lip, as though he were about to cry. “Whores don’t order their owner around… unless it’s for the entertainment of their owner, of course. And right now, I’ve gotten terribly bored of it.” 

Suguru looked positively dumbfounded. But if that meant you were going to finally do something about it instead of sitting there, then he wasn’t going to argue with you. He let you maneuver him onto his back pliantly, almost coy in the way he glanced up at you through his lashes, spreading his legs for you. 

How could anyone expect him to want to protect his dignity when you looked at him like that? He wasn’t even prey, to you—something much, more lowly. An object, your possession. A confection to be devoured. You had let him at a glimpse of the power you held over him, and fuck, did it feel great to have you bending to his every whim, stroking his cock for his pleasure for once, but this… this was nothing but not a deal with the devil. True sovereignty was never in his hands. It was all an illusion. 

But if his only purpose would be reduced to a sleeve for your cock to fit into, merely for your pleasure and entertainment, then Suguru would get you so addicted to him, you’d prefer him over any other drug. 

“Please,” he begged, glossy eyes peering at you, “sir.” 

You smiled. “What do you want, Suguru?” 

“I-I want,” he said, half short of a whine, “w-want you- to take control. Please.” 

“Thought you were enjoying yourself, love.” 

Suguru knew what you wanted. To recognise his new identity—something inferior to you. Something that needed to depend on you to survive. 

“I- am- but, mmph, my legs h-hurt.” The glance he gave you, then, sent a shock straight into your chest. He breathed out a quiet confession, the killer blow, “I need you to put me in my place, sir. Please.” 

Your grin grew crooked, hands finally settling on the thick of his hips for the perfect leverage to thrust, and Suguru knew, then, that he had fucking won. 

The first smack of your hips against his ass had him keening. It stung, especially how he was bruised all over from riding you too hard, earlier—but the sharp zing of pleasure coursing through him made up for it a hundred times over. He wrapped his arms around your neck needily, fingers curling into your hair to keep you close, as close as you could be with your cock stuffed inside him. 

“Sir!” he sobbed, legs going around your hips as he trembled in ecstasy, moaning, gasping for breath, because finally, fucking finally, you were here in his arms, giving hell to his insides just the way he liked it. “Yes, yes, mmh, yes, sir—” 

All he could do was breathe. 

“So loud,” you cooed. “Poor thing.” 

“C-can't help- mnh, it,” Suguru whimpered, his body jerking weakly with every thrust. He squeezed his eyes shut for the briefest of moments, sobbing with pleasure as you took him again and again, the weight and heat of your body pinning him down completely, consummately, caging his lithe one, and he loved it. “W-wanted this- for soo long. You- always f-fuck me so- good, sir.”  

“Yeah? Why were you so stubborn, then?” you leered down at him, “Being all tough, snapping at me—acting like you had it. You really had your fun, didn’t you.” 

“‘m so- sorry,” he moaned, eyes rolling back. “W-won’t do i-it again.” 

Your smile grew wider at that. “What a good whore,” you sighed in appreciation, tilting his head by the chin to examine his tear-streaked face. “Pretty, too. Not all whores look pretty when they cry. You’re one of a kind, Suguru.” 

“Sir- you’re- ah, haa, t-thank you, sir,” he panted, whimpering as you pinched one of his nipples, “‘s all ‘cause- of y-you, sir. you make- make me feel- s-so good.” 

“Good to know.” You smoothed a hand over the red and purple blossoming on his pecs from the assault you had subjected them to, your sweat dripping onto his body with every jostle and thrust. “Now shut up for a bit and take it, yeah?” 

Suguru nodded frantically, eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at you. He was getting close again, the excitement in his belly churning tenfold in this new position that had him feeling every sensation of you pulsing inside him, now that he didn’t need to divert his attention elsewhere. Fuck. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad at you in the first place. He cried out as you thrusted meanly, cock grating against his prostate, his legs tightening around your waist in reflex. 

And then you pulled out with a devilish smirk. 

Suguru sobbed out, voice breaking in parts, the sound loud and desperate. “Please, s-sir. I- I was going- I was about to- ” 

“I know,” you crooned. “Told you to shut up, didn’t I?” 

He nodded pliantly, but he couldn’t hold in a whimper, soft and needy. You couldn’t help but admire the sight beneath you, despite the pain-pleasure inside you of yet another ruined orgasm—his eyes were shiny with tears, skin flushed prettily and bruised around the chest and waist, back arched as he desperately tried to get you to move. 

“Turn around for me, sweet thing.” You pressed a kiss to his wet cheek, trying to soothe him. “I know you can do that. You were so good for me just now, baby… I’m so proud of you. I’m sure a teensy little more is nothing to you, mm?” 

Suguru nodded again, rolling onto his stomach sluggishly. He was getting tired, stars drifting past with every slow, dreamy blink, body drained by the way you fucked it like it was something unbreakable. 

He pressed his face into your pillow, inhaling sharply at the scent of your musk filling his every breath, whining as you gripped his hips and tugged him backwards, the head of your cock rubbing against his puffy rim. There was nothing, absolutely nothing else worth his attention on at the moment, the world fading to a trifling blur under your touch. 

The only sounds he could hear were your heavy pants against his shoulder blades, the chanting of fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me in the distant back of his mind, making his insides melt with the desire to be taken. There was no more Suguru. There was only a hole in his place. 

He could feel his eyes drooping, soft breaths luring him to sleep, but out of the cloud of smoke and haze, you were there, a steady presence behind him, the warmth of your calloused palms branding his hips and thighs guiding him back to reality. 

“Let’s remind ourselves,” you husked, your voice wrapping around him like a warm blanket of safety amid the static. “Who are you to me, Suguru?” 

He breathed out a moan, then answered without thinking. “Yours- only yours.” 

“Specifics, baby. Let’s try again.” 

He tried to shift back onto you—even an inch would do, with how desperate he was, but your hand on his hip held him in place. You huffed out a laugh as he turned his head to frown cutely at you. “Your- your property,” he tried again. “Your plaything.” 

“Better,” you praised, “but they’re not what I’m looking for. What else?” 

Suguru knew what you wanted to hear, but he just couldn’t recall at that moment—it was too much, the edging, the scent of you everywhere, the exhaustion, the hot sweaty press of your chest against him, your big hands on his body, your cock rubbing between his thighs. All of it was making his head blank. 

He whimpered helplessly, wanting to turn to you for help, but you kept him in that same humiliating position, as though it were a common whore you were breeding and not him—

“Whore,” he gasped. “I’m your whore.” 

You grinned, then, sharp and pleased, and Suguru could almost cry at the relief he felt. “And what do good whores do, mm?” 

He sobbed, “Good whores take what they’re given… and say thank you.” 

“Good,” you repeated, breathless. “Very good, Suguru.” 

You positioned yourself properly this time, tapping the head of your cock wetly against his entrance just to hear him whine, before entering him with a heavy, careless thrust—to the very brim. 

Suguru buried his face into the pillow, practically screaming. He fisted the bedsheets, head swimming with the sudden burst pleasure overwhelming his senses, the pleasure of being taken, used, like property you had paid for; the pleasure of you picking him, of all people, to be the one you wanted to play with. All the toys in the aisle and you had chosen him. 

He’d gladly be your personal whore. 

“Now,” you prompted with a drawl, “what do we say, mm?” 

“T-thank you, sir,” Suguru whined, “Thank you so- soo much.” 

“Well done,” you breathed, carding a hand through his long, silky hair—before pulling it back into a makeshift pony tail and yanking him up by it, roughly. You ignored his startled whine, taking a second to admire the shape of your cock jutting out from his now exposed abdomen—before towing him backwards, slowly, until his back settled against your chest. 

You could feel his frame quivering against yours. Where was his confidence? The attitude, the jealousy? Guess you had fucked him so good he had forgotten everything else but his only purpose in life—to offer up his holes for your pleasure. 

“Open up, whore,” you whispered. 

Suguru didn’t need to be told twice. He fluttered his lashes, parting his lips for you, breath hitching as you collected a ball of spit, letting it drizzle slowly, obscenely, from your mouth to the waiting hole beneath you. You snapped his jaws shut, making sure you heard the audible swallow before you let go. 

“Thank you,” he whimpered. You smiled. You had such a good-mannered whore. 

He snivelled when he felt a hand enclose his cock—the poor thing so hard it was almost purple, lovingly stroking him. Tears slid down his cheeks freely as soft moans and pants spilled unbidden. He sobbed out brokenly, body jerking in your arms as his cock gave a weak, helpless spurt, the orgasm washing over him in cathartic waves. 

“T-thank you,” he panted, glancing up at you with pretty, moist eyes. 

Suguru only let out a feeble whine as you slowly slid out of him, clenching and gaping from the emptiness, placing him back on all fours. He clutched the sheets with trembling hands as something wet tapped on his cheek, and he opened his mouth without much thought. 

“My pretty whore,” you praised, and put your cock in his mouth. The warm gush of cum down his throat had him choking out a beautiful sound of gratitude. 

Suguru had been stupid to think he could ever get the upperhand in a deal with the devil. But that was all he was now, wasn’t he? A stupid, pretty whore, only ever good for taking cock. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought, with a mouthful of cum and more trickling down the side of his chin. 

Maybe he was always meant to be like this. 

Maybe what he needed was your guidance, all along.

masterlist!

[lokissweater]

sunday's 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

{yuta okkotsu x popular f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been in love with you since he started college— living in the shadows of your popularity as he watched from afar how your bouncy and genuine kind soul prospered and shined everywhere you went. but during one of his shifts at the 50s diner down the street from his campus, you walk in with you friends one sunday night and immediately bond over your shared love for elvis presley’s music, yuta stammering and fidgety at how pretty you are up close, and you falling fast for his pinky cheeks, sweet little words, and how he takes care of you every single day.

warnings: college!au, FLUUUFFF omg so cute, lovesick yuta he thinks you’re so prettyyy, no smut in this one!, popular reader, cursing, afab!reader, lots of mentions of elvis presley LOL, little bit of angst, clueless yuta, strangers to friends to lovers.

word count: 9.6k

authors note: THIS ONE HITS HOMEEE FOR MEEE AAAHHHH CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ELVIS PRESLEY? i live and breathe that man and oldies in general, so this is a love letter to him! :] this fic is all of my favorite things combined and it is SO FREAKING CUUTEEEE UGH i hope you all love it seriously <3333 MWAAHHH I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU—

yuta okkotsu had never seen a girl so beautiful.

you were breathtaking, watching from afar, it was truly as if the world revolved around you in the most positive way yuta could think of.

you were popular— a beam of gorgeous light following you everywhere you went as you were always just enveloped by people and strangers and friends, them wanting to talk to you, wanting to get to know you, wanting you to better their lives because that’s what you selflessly liked to do for everyone without knowing.

and every time he’d walk in between lectures and spot you— feeling in the dumps if on certain days he’d miss your presence entirely, he’d just stare. stare with pink cheeks and softened eyes as you laughed and messed around with your friends or did extracurricular activities around campus, always giving a helping hand to those who needed it no matter the status.

that’s what yuta admired the most about you. you didn’t treat anybody differently just because they didn’t stand in the same level as you. you didn’t care about things like that, and you spoke to people with such fucking class and poise, that he always dozed off picturing how it would be like if he ever had the privilege of actually speaking with you.

that’s how most of his work shifts went at the diner after his classes.

he would wait tables or be in the kitchen, wipe down the windows or run the hostess stand… and you’d be on his mind— permanently there to torment him in the loveliest way he knew how.

and on one sunday night, you were unexpectedly there right in front of him at his job.

“hello?”

you waved a gentle hand over his face, and he snapped out of it immediately, cheeks pinky and bright, your friends snickering.

“yes! s—sorry.” he reached behind the hostess stand. “how many are with you?”

“four!” you responded sweetly, yuta having to swallow the huge lump in his throat as he officially saw your smile up close for the first time in his life— a gorgeous contrast to what it looked like from far away.

yuta quickly grabbed the corresponding menus and stepped to the side of the hostess stand, leading you and your friends through the empty restaurant and to a big booth— placing two menus down on each side of the table.

a series of elvis presley oldies (a personal pick from yuta) played through the jukebox in the middle of the diner while you and your friends scanned the menu, yuta fidgeting and anxious with his pen and notepad, waiting for you to order.

“do you have a favorite milkshake from here?” your kind voice spoke, looking up at him.

“uh— milkshake?”

your friends snickered again, but this time, you turned to them and shot them all a menacing glare.

“hey!— stop that you guys…” you shook your head at them and turned back to a red faced yuta, smiling apologetically. “i’m sorry! i’m really sorry.”

your friends only looked annoyed as they buried their faces in their menus or looked away entirely— yuta shaking his head softly.

“n—no it’s alright. um— i usually prefer this one-”

he timidly pointed his pen downward, the words ‘elvis shake’ reading from it.

“it has uh— vanilla ice cream with peanut butter and bananas.” he pursed his lips. “if… if you like that?”

“oh i’m a whore for anything with peanut butter in it!…” your hands spread flat across the menu as you leaned closer, yuta shyly laughing a little at your wording.

you looked up then, your eyes bright and excited and yuta doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way you were at that moment.

“is that why you like it? because of the peanut butter?”

“yeah! yeah definitely... m— mainly because of the name though.”

you stopped and your eyebrows furrowed. “elvis? do you listen to him?”

his cheeks buzzed. “do you?”

“y/n!” one of your friends harshly whispered to you from across the table. “are we here to chit chat or are we here to eat?”

“fuck okay! jesus—”

you and the rest of your group ordered, yuta nervously scribbling down the names of various platters and drinks before silently excusing himself to send the note off to the kitchen staff.

and when it came around to serving your food, placing each individual dish down for each person— yuta gently settled the elvis shake you got in front of you, adorned with baby pink sprinkles over a mountain of whipped cream with a cherry on top, something that yuta did extra for you out of the goodness of his infatuated heart, since it didn’t come with the drink in the first place.

he didn’t know why, but he could tell that the energy was different between you and your friends the second time he came around, and after hiding in the kitchen for the entirety of the time you were there instead of outside waiting tables like he was supposed to, by the third time he came back around— you were fighting with them.

he quickly retreated behind the bar and made himself look busy, guiltily eavesdropping as he picked up a random salt shaker and falsely examined it.

“i don’t understand why you guys can’t just be nice!” you pushed. “is having a normal conversation with somebody that funny? every time?”

“y/n you always talk to a bunch of rando’s of course it’s funny.”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

“it means it looks odd and you’re embarrassing yourself every time you skip around not being mindful of who you’re having conversations with!” one of them seethed, their tone judgemental and rude and one yuta didn’t like at all.

“like— like the server today! i’m pretty sure i’ve seen him around campus, he’s odd. why were you asking him about— about— who the fuck were you asking him about?“

“elvis.” you spat. “i was asking him about elvis."

“that guy! who cares? he works here why do you have to always talk to people like that—”

“like what?!” you threw your arms up. “like a normal decent human being would? i can see why you’d lack that.”

“excuse me?”

“yeah. and it sucks for you.”

“sucks for?— okay. i think we’re done here.”

“way fucking done.”

as each of them scooched out of the booth, yuta watched with wide panicked eyes while you stayed seated and silent, arms crossed over your chest and lips tight as you glared.

“i don’t know why everyone loves you so much…” one of them muttered. “there isn’t anything to you.”

and they all walked out, the bell above the door chiming as they did.

yuta’s eyes darted from you to the exit and to them through the window outside in the parking lot, watching fucking gobsmacked as they all got in one singular car and sped off, leaving you there by yourself and with the responsibility of the bill.

soft sniffles reached him, and he turned then, your body hunched over on the table as you cried with your head down, yuta’s heart aching for you.

he put down the random salt shaker he was holding and walked around the bar, slowly making his way towards your table.

“you don’t—”

you shot up startled.

“sorry! sorry—” he awkwardly scratched his pinky cheek. “i was just— gonna say you don’t have to pay the bill… i— i can��”

“oh! no you don’t have to do that.” you wiped your cheeks. “it’s okay i can pay it.”

“but they left you the entire bill.” he said softly.

“i know… it’s okay! really.” you smiled a little through your tears, the sight making his shoulders slump.

how you could possibly smile at a time like this was beyond him.

yuta started clearing the empty plates from your table when you spoke up again.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with their attitude...” you mumbled. “and my ugly crying.”

he smiled softly and shook his head. “no it’s okay. you shouldn’t apologize for them.”

“i should though…” you whined a little. “they were being mean the moment we got here and were just straight disrespectful.”

you leaned back against the plush of the booth and crossed your arms, muttering. “it’s not like they were my friends either..”

yuta quirked a confused brow, setting the last of the plates away in the kitchen before coming back around. “they weren’t?”

“nuh uh.” you shook your head. “i had just met them today actually, from a sorority event. i thought they were nice at first but i started noticing they were a little bitchy.”

“bitchy?” he laughed a little, his heart leaping like a little leap frog at the realization that it was just you and him at the diner alone, the cooks having already gone home seeing as it was past closing time for the diner.

“yeah…” you sighed deeply through your nose. “they weren’t being very nice to the other girls there either… and— and when they asked me if i wanted to come eat here with them i didn’t really want to go but—” you pursed your lips, a sheepish look on your face. “i have a hard time saying no to people so…”

yuta’s eyes softened, leaning back against the edge of the long bar table as he eyed how resilient you tried to come across but damn well knowing you were hurting inside by their actions, your cheeks still wet and your bottom lip in a slight pout.

“what they said to you wasn’t very nice…” he murmured. “i’m sorry they did that.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s okay. i get it here and there.”

his eyebrows furrowed. “here and there? what do you mean?”

“from other people that i meet.” you perked up slightly then. “do you wanna sit?” you signaled to the seat across from you in the booth and he stiffened, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he reluctantly scooched his legs over and sat across from you.

“they just get a little mad when i don’t do what they want me to do.”

“like be mean? like them?”

you shrugged a little, but the way your gorgeous eyes peered up at him indicated that he was right. “i suppose.”

“are all of your friends like that?”

“oh no! thankfully not…” you fiddled with your fingers on the table. “a lot of them are really sweet.”

yuta never thought about how something like this could be a possibility, as all he saw was how much you were loved and idolized and sought after by literally anyone who knew your name— but he missed the mark on the logistics of it. he should’ve known certain girls wouldn’t be in favor of you and desired what you didn’t have to work very hard for to get.

he saw how you wiped the remnants of your wet cheeks and sniffed, looking like you had at least recovered from crying but still a little dejected as you slouched over the table, eyes down.

“do you want… another elvis shake?”

you looked up. “what?”

“a—another shake. do you want one?” he stood slowly from the booth. “or i could get you ice cream? we just have vanilla and chocolate but—”

“oh no! it’s okay really i don’t want to freeload over what you have—”

he giggled a little. “you’re not freeloading. i’m offering.”

and before you could reject him again, he was already making his way to the kitchen— hands skillfully prepping his favorite milkshake like he’d done so many times before since the age of sixteen, and now skillfully and lovingly preparing it for you, the girl he’s adored since the moment he started college.

you stood and timidly followed after him, but instead of fully going into the kitchen, you stopped in front of the vintage burgundy jukebox and scanned the selection of songs.

“you won’t get in trouble?” you worriedly called over your shoulder. “i don’t want you to run into issues with your job…”

“no it’s okay!” you heard from the kitchen, glasses and silverware clinking together. “i’ve been working here since high school and my manager doesn’t mind. i usually um— close on sunday’s on my own too.”

the blender went off as you spotted your favorite elvis presley song on the list of selections, perking up and quickly digging into your purse for any stray quarters you magically hoped would appear inside.

yuta switched the blender off and unhooked it from the base, pouring out the frothy liquid into a fountain glass cup.

“you close on your own on sunday’s?” your head turned to where he was, catching little glimpses of him from the doorway as he moved to and fro. “the entire restaurant?”

“yeah…” he laughed awkwardly. “well— all of the time.”

“all of the time?!” you gawked, popping your head into the kitchen and accidentally scaring him.

“oh shit!—”

“sorry!” you giggled cutely. “i’m sorry…”

he laughed with you and waved you off. “it’s okay.”

yuta looked down and proceeded topping your milkshake with baby pink sprinkles again. “and yeah we’re kind of… understaffed right now. it’s just me and another kid.”

you hummed understandingly, watching the way he finished off your shake with two cherries on top instead of one like last time, making you softly smile in response.

he plopped a straw in. “here you go.”

“thank you!” you bounced excitedly on your little toes and he grinned, handing the glass over to you gently.

“i hope you feel better…”

your milkshake filled cheeks made him laugh as you paused and swallowed, the sweetest expression ever on your face as your eyes flickered to his name tag and back to him.

“i do yuta… thank you!”

the way his name rang off your tongue, something he never ever would’ve thought to hear come out of your mouth, to come out from you, sent him feeling lightheaded as fuck as he dropped his head down to hide his rosy cheeks, walking out of the kitchen as you followed after him.

you paused in front of the jukebox again.

“oh! i didn’t get to hear your answer from earlier.”

he picked his head up. “from earlier?”

“if— if you listen to elvis?”

“oh—” his gaze drifted to where you had your focus on the elvis presley selection panel on the machine. “i do! i love his music.”

you beamed, eyes lighting up so excitedly as you looked at him.

“oh my god i love him too! so much!”

“really?” he smiled. “do you— do you have a favorite song?”

“yeah! i have a lot...” you giggled shyly. “but i mainly like ‘always on my mind.’”

“that one’s a good one!” his smile grew. “i love that one too.”

“right?!” you stepped closer to him, and his face flushed. “and you? what about you?”

“i uh— i like ‘moody blue’…”

you gushed. “i like that one too!”

you loved the way his pinky cheeks bloomed and how kind he was— the way he tried his best to make you, a stranger, feel better with a cute little milkshake, his stuttering and fidgeting something that you found yourself adoring and only made your heart mushy with the weird need to pinch his rosy cheeks.

and he loved elvis.

“i’m glad you like him.” you hummed, running the pad of your index finger mindlessly over the smooth glittery surface of the jukebox. “people don’t really listen to him or oldies in general now.”

you gently set your nearly finished milkshake on the bar table as he nodded his head in agreement, thinking he couldn’t fall more in love with you over the fact that you actually liked one of his favorite artists. “i didn’t—expect you to either…”

you tilted your head. “really? why?”

“because—” he stammered, eyes darting around your breathtaking face. “well you’re popular. and pretty. and in a sorority. and i just—”

“oh— i see!” you smiled with blushing cheeks at his quick compliment, but it didn’t really reach your eyes. “i understand.”

“no but!—” your eyes stayed glued to the jukebox, and he worried that he might’ve accidentally offended you as he frantically tried to get his words together.

“i know it’s all stereotypes and assumptions so i’m— i’m sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you giggled softly. “i just don’t want you or anyone to get the wrong impression of me because of those things is all…”

your eyebrows pinched in thought, and he quickly shook his head.

“i’ve never!” he reached and placed a hand on your shoulder, your cheeks growing hot as he did so. “i’ve never gotten the wrong impression of you…”

“no?”

“no.”

you peered up at him. “what do you think of me then?”

“what do i—” he gulped. “what do i think?”

“yeah!”

“i think uh… you’re really nice.” he mumbled. “really nice. to everyone.. to me. doesn’t matter who honestly. and… you’re not afraid to say something if someone is being rude.”

yuta shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he avoided your gaze. “and you’re helpful… you put a lot of care into the things that you do, which are always never for your own benefit but for the benefit of others.”

he froze. “i— i see you around campus! a lot— so…”

your doe eyes were soft and filled with affection and warmth, the weight of his words settling into your mind as if they’ve always belonged there. as if he’s always belonged there.

you wrung your fingers behind your back then and leaned up on your tippy toes.

“you think i’m pretty?”

beautiful.

yuta hadn’t even realized that he had called you that until the moment you mentioned it again, his eyes widening as his wobbly lips tried to form coherent sentences for you.

“well— well who doesn’t...” he squeaked.

“but do you?” you leaned even closer, your cute smile nearly making him want to blurt out that he’s in love with you and that he’s maybe thought about you being the mother of his children from time to time.

“i— i do.” his eyes flickered back to yours. “i do.”

you bit your bottom lip and gleamed, giving into your impulses and reaching up to gently squeeze his flushed cheek.

“you’re so cute yuta…” you murmured, arm falling back to your side and eyes casting over the jukebox again.

and he nearly just about died.

“do you want a little donut?” he asked. “i— i can get it from the back—”

you and yuta spent literally the rest of the night until two in the morning chit chatting, playing various oldies tunes on the jukebox that conspired of mainly elvis presley, and yuta literally feeding you and giving you anything he possibly could just so he could watch the way you beamed at him every time he did— even when at one point you literally begged him that it was okay, your tummy absolutely filled with sugary sweets and drinks.

you even helped yuta close— disinfecting and wiping down all of the tables, sweeping the floors, triple shining the little elvis mural the diner had by the hostess stand, and organizing the menu’s for tomorrow’s shift.

in the midst of you wiping down the last of the big glass windows by the entrance with him, you thought of something.

“oh my god yuta—” your head snapped in his direction, his eyes widening at your sudden outburst.

“what if i work here?”

he stopped.

“work here?”

“yeah!” you nodded vigorously. “with you!”

he bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from screaming. “with me?”

“uh huh!” you chirped sweetly. “i would love to wipe down tables and listen to music with you everyday..”

yuta’s ears went red as he heard your soft voice say something so cute, wanting to literally run into the kitchen to the sink and dunk his face in sink water to cool off his boiling face.

“if that’s okay!” you sputtered. “am i being weird? am i freaking you out—”

“no! no not at all!” the corners of his lips curled, and he smiled, genuinely smiled. a big loving one that made his cheeks hurt with how hard he was doing it, and one that made your heart lightly flutter inside your chest at the way he was looking at you.

“i can talk to my manager.” he spoke gently. “i’m pretty sure he’ll take you.”

you bounced excitedly on your tippy toes, unexpectedly throwing your arms around him and landing a big fat kiss to his cheek.

“thank you thank you!”

yuta kept true to his word and talked to his manager the following day, who barely even had to think about it since he trusted yuta more than his own damn kids, waving him off and giving him the all clear to have you start the coming week.

“look look! do you likkeeyyy?”

you twirled around in your waitress uniform, the frilly pink fabric moving and swaying with every spin you made as he casually tried to bite down on his thumb in stupid restraint.

“it’s great!” he muttered, teeth locked around his thumb still. “you look great y/n.”

“thanks thanks!”

and you hopped over, giving him another quick kiss on the cheek before skipping away to the kitchen, him ecstatic as he’d been wanting another one so fucking badly again since the first time you did it— him biting down even harder on his thumb when you disappeared from view.

“why do you look like you’re about to shit yourself?”

yuta whipped around and saw his other coworker, yuji, the kid who shares shifts with him sometimes and spills everything and anything that comes out of his mouth without thinking twice about it, standing next to him with a clueless face.

yuji then wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. “is it the girl? the pretty one? the one with the big ass—”

“knock it off—” yuta shoved him away lightly and walked off, crouching down behind the bar counter and sorting through piles of rolled up silverware and buffet napkins.

“do you like her? yes or no?” yuji leaned against the edge of the bar.

his cheeks went pink.

“because if not i’m gonna go try y’know—”

yuta scoffed. “yuji you’re a freshman in high school and we’re in college. she’s in college—”

“okay maybe she likes them young? cougar moment?”

yuta looked at him absolutely horrified and bewildered. “you’re fucking insane—”

his reaction and response only made yuji double over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath as yuta looked at him with an unamused face.

“i’m kidding! i’m just kidding i know you like her you’ve been red in the face the minute she clocked in—”

“what’s so funny?”

you popped your head in from the kitchen, making yuta jump again and yuji double over laughing like before, you giving yuta an apologetic look.

“i wanna laugh!” you pouted. “what happened? what’s funny?”

“yuta didn’t like the joke i made.” yuji quipped.

“well what was it? maybe i will!” you smiled sweetly.

“i said—”

“don’t say it!”

yuji ducked as yuta threw a kids menu at him.

“yuta has a cru—”

“shut the fuck up!—”

you covered your mouth with your hands in a little fit of giggles, the sound halting yuta mid throw to look at you with wide dreamy eyes— not wanting to miss the way you laughed and the way your nose crinkled with every hiccup.

yuji snickered and he shot him a glare before standing and walking over to where you stood.

“you don’t wanna hear it…” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a buffet napkin. “it was freaking weird.”

you settled your giggles down and breathed, nodding cutely. “i’ll take your word for it, yu.”

yu.

“eeehh?! look y/n! look at his face!—”

“shut up!”

for the rest of the days and shifts that you spent together, yuta made it his mission to do things for you to hopefully earn him a sweet cheek kiss in return like last time, all while desperately trying to avoid yuji and his big ginormous annoying mouth actively corrupting some of his attempts on purpose.

yuta would try and bring you any kind of pastry he could give away to you without his manager knowing, or make you milkshakes randomly throughout your shifts or small BLT’s during lunch time to feed you, all for the purpose of watching the way you’d smile and hug him gratefully each time, and if he got lucky, a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“i don’t get it.” yuji shook his head during one of your shifts, him shuffling through a movie magazine on his break. “why don’t you just ask her for a kiss on the cheek? hm? i’d bet she’d do it! ooo better yet—” he looked at him with sarcastic laced excitement. “ask her out you little loser.”

yuta’s cheeks were hot as he listened, watching you from the kitchen take orders and scribble them down on a notepad.

“it’s been months yuta. months. i am in agony every day watching you follow her around like a lost puppy even though it’s the funniest thing i’ve ever seen.”

yuta rolled his eyes, but sent him a small sad smile. “can’t do it.”

“why not?” he whined. “she likes you too!”

“because she’s out of my league.” yuta pursed his lips. “and no i don’t think she likes me.”

“oh man—” yuji hunched over the sink, tossing his magazine to the side and gripping the rim in exhaustion. “she kisses your cheeks and hugs you and literally took this job because of you! what more proof do you want?!” he grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “a straight up confession?! a straight up kiss?!”

yuta’s heart accelerated at the thought as he pictured yuji’s words clear in his mind.

would you ever kiss him?… would you ever like him back?

“m—maybe?”

“what about school! do you guys not hang out or talk at school?”

“we do!” yuta perked up, but his shoulders quickly slumped. “we’re in different circles though so it’s always just for a little bit or casually.”

yuji groaned loudly and smacked a hand over his forehead. “it’s useless. you’re on your own man i tried i tried so hard i can’t help you—”

he continued to mutter under his breath as he picked up his backpack and walked out of the kitchen and out of the restaurant, the end of his shift drawing near as yuta laughed to himself over his words.

he appreciated how much yuji cared and how badly he wanted him to succeed, but even though his unrealistic expectations and hopes annoyed him most of the time as he blabbed on to him about them, yuta knew he was just a kid. so he valued it anyways.

“yu!” you spoke from behind the bar, him quickly rubbing his sweaty palms over his pants as he walked out of the kitchen to you.

“i’m so excited for tonight!” you smiled, your giddy little self practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation.

he laughed. “you’re excited to clean?”

“yup yup! i’m excited to clean with you.”

with him.

yuta adored sunday’s because that’s when you were both scheduled to close together on your own— just like the first time you did months ago, back when you weren’t working there yet.

there were no cooks, no yuji, no manager, and no customers. just you and him as you blasted elvis singles on the jukebox and got a sugar high from the ice cream machine as you wiped down tables and dusted off shelves— one time you literally slipping on the checkered tile by the entrance because you forgot you had just mopped the floor, yuta practically jumping over the bar counter to see if you were okay and him absolutely sick and worried over nothing as he showered you with more pastries and sweets to help you feel better.

that sunday night he got a kiss on the cheek.

so as you both bid the last customers a good night and got right to work, yuta considered yuji’s dumb words.

maybe he should just ask?

“if elvis was still alive i would probably sell myself to go see him.”

he let out a shocked laugh. “sell yourself? like prostitution?”

“mhm!” you hummed, wiping down the bar counter. “think about it— his tickets would probably cost like three thousand dollars. where the hell am i gonna get three thousand dollars? i’m broke and in college.”

yuta shook his head, his lips in an amused grin. “anything for elvis.”

“exactly!” you leaned over the counter excitedly, yuta on the other side with pink cheeks and a fuzzy feeling in his heart. “you get it. only you understand me.”

he laughed.

“i think it’d be cool if they brought him back as a hologram and did concerts that way.” yuta suggested.

you gasped incredulously as a hand flew to slap over your mouth. “yu! you little genius! oh my god i have to start pimping myself out now—”

yuta laughed again and shook his head. “don’t do that. we’ll find a way to get in.”

“we?!” you propped yourself up on the counter with your elbows and cupped his hands in yours, him stiffening with wide eyes and wobbly nervous lips. “you wanna go with me?”

“y—yeah.” he stammered. “of— of course…”

you squealed and nodded quickly, seemingly accepting the hypothetical proposal.

but then you settled down a little. your eyelashes slowly fluttering as you stared at him— a slow 50s love song statically murmuring through the jukebox adding to the atmosphere as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

but this time it was different.

it wasn’t quick and cutesy and one that yuta barely had time to bask over before you pranced away. it was slow, tender, and yuta could feel the way your soft lips touched his skin and left behind a burn as he let his eyes close at the blissful gentle feeling, him finally able to relish in the rarity of it before you slightly began pulling away, eyes twinkling.

“…do you still think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

he swallowed thickly, your face so close he could feel your breath fanning across his lips.

“i do.” he whispered back, eyes locked on yours. “very much so.”

you bit your bottom lip as you smiled, ever so slightly leaning closer and closer to him as your lips nearly brushed against—

riinnggg!

you quickly pulled away and ran to the back to answer the phone, leaving yuta sitting there swooning and nearly collapsing on the table, his hands cold from not being encased in your own soft hands anymore.

but most of all… leaving him confused. he didn’t know why you were leaning in like that.

“i’m sorry we’re closed for the day!… uh huh… we open at eight am tomorrow if—”

yuta could still feel the blaze your lips left behind on his cheek as you spoke on the phone, his hands coming up to rub his eyes as he tried to get his head back down from the clouds and simmer down the beating of his heart.

“someone wanted to come in right now!” you exclaimed, coming back over to your previous spot.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “right now? are you serious? it’s—” he spun around on the barstool and turned his head to the coca cola themed vintage clock on the wall. “it’s nearly twelve am?”

“i know!” you breathed out. “we closed four hours ago.”

“four?!—”

it dawned on the both of you how long you had been inside the diner, fully convinced it would’ve been longer if you hadn’t noticed.

so as the two of you mutually agreed to finish up and gather your things— the jukebox switched to an iconic elvis presley slow love song as you were just about halfway through the entrance double doors, eyes snapping to each other’s.

“aw i love this one…” you spoke softly, a little whine seeping through.

a small close lipped smile spread across his face. “i love this one too.”

“do you wanna—” you stopped.

his eyebrows pinched. “do i wanna what?”

“do you wanna… dance with meee?” you dragged out cutely, slightly bouncing on your toes.

“dance?” his eyes widened. “i— i don’t know how—”

“s’okay! i’ll teach you!”

you quickly pulled his hand and dragged him out, opening one door and jamming a door stopper underneath it so the music of the jukebox leaked out of the diner and through the empty street.

the pavement was a little wet from the morning rain as you took his hand again and pulled him to the middle of the dead empty street, the bottom of your shoes tapping and splashing a little with each tiny puddle you stepped in.

elvis presley’s voice softly hummed through the air, but it was loud and clear to the both of you as you gently took yuta’s hands and set them around your waist, his heart fucking palpitating and feeling like he was about to have a stroke when you wrung your arms over his neck and showed him that pretty smile he loved so much.

you both slowly stepped side to side, the air crispy and cold as your breath’s blew out foggy misty clouds due to the condensation, both of your noses and cheeks flushing red and buzzing warmly as you continued to slow dance— yuta’s grip slowly tightening until he was practically hugging you flush against his body.

out of anything that could possibly happen to yuta in his life, he wanted to remember this moment specifically— with you, dancing in the middle of the street listening to the man that essentially brought you both together in the first place, your beautiful beautiful face looking at him like he was the most important thing in your life… yuta wanting so badly for that to come true as he basked in this little made up scenario in his head that you were already his.

“yu…” you murmured.

he didn’t trust his voice.

“hm?”

“why haven’t you kissed me yet.”

what?

“kissed… you?”

“yeah..” you whispered, your bodies swaying. “don’t you like me?”

yuta let out a shaky breath. “i— i mean yeah… who doesn’t?”

your smile faltered. “i’m talking about you though…”

“oh. well you know i do. i’m sure a lot of other guys would want to kiss you.”

the song drawled to a gradual close and the jukebox reset, you both no longer swaying but still holding on to each other.

your eyes drifted to the side. “other guys?”

he pursed his lips, not really liking the thought of you kissing guys, but answering your question anyways. “yeah… other guys.”

his emphasis on other guys and not on himself left a bad taste in your mouth.

your eyes narrowed in confusion as you looked up at him, yuta a little shocked at your sad expression.

did he say something wrong?

“i thought—” you shook your head softly. “i thought you…?”

“…thought me what?” he cocked his head to the side, his genuine confusion solidifying his rejection in your eyes.

“i— i thought—”

your hands slipped from his shoulders and you stepped back, yuta sadly complying and letting his arms open and fall beside him as you rapidly blinked back tears, his eyes slowly widening once he caught it.

“hey— are you okay? what’s wrong?”

yuta went and reached for you, you backing away in response as you shook your head and gave him a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes at all.

“why are you crying? did i say something mean? i’m sorry—”

“no no i’m fine.” your voice was quiet and sad. “i think we should go home now.”

his shoulders deflated.

“are you sure? we— we usually hang out until at least one in the morning on sunday’s…”

you walked past him and towards the double doors of the diner, letting your tears slip in secret as you picked up your school bag and swung it over your shoulder, quickly wiping your cheeks before picking up his bag and giving it to him.

yuta thanked you and hoisted his backpack up on himself, ushering you gently to step to the side as he pulled the door stopper from beneath and placed it in its corresponding place by the entrance, letting the door close on its own before pulling out the keys from the pocket of his jacket and locking the diner up.

he did all of this— completely unaware to the way you were trying to quiet down your sniffles behind him.

you were so sure he liked you back… now you just felt a little stupid.

of course— the one genuine guy you came across that you actually liked out of all the others that you’ve met, one that wasn’t like the rest and was sweet and funny and caring and so so attentive of you… didn’t like you back.

the one thing you truly truly wanted, you simply couldn’t have— you walking ahead of yuta in silence through the parking lot with your arms crossed as you wondered if the way he treated you was literally just because that’s how he was as a person.

a good person at that. way too good for this world, and way too good for you.

yuta didn’t know why you were so quiet, his chest a bit achy at the absence of your usual cheerful voice.

when you reached your cars, you barely even bid him a proper goodbye like you always did before you got in your car and sped away, leaving a perplexed yuta standing alone in the parking lot— eyebrows pinched together in clueless concern.

you were acting so weird, and you unfortunately continued to do so for the following week.

the next time you came into the diner (which was literally the next day), yuta was taken aback by how bloodshot and sunken your eyes were when you came in for your shift, not saying a single peep to yuji and him when you walked through the kitchen or through the bar counter like you usually did… and it was weird.

through the bustling of the busy restaurant, it was oddly quiet to the two boys, simply because you weren’t your usual boastful self.

and you were hardly talking to yuta either… which pained him the most. you kept it strictly casual— as if you weren’t completely tied together every fucking day for almost a year now, you just completely casual about your day and about the things you had to do whenever he asked you, your one word dry responses sending him through the worst confusing and sadistic loop of his life.

but it wasn’t casual at all. nothing about you was casual. so why were you acting like this? did you finally maybe open your eyes and realize yuta was a big fat nobody who didn’t belong with a girl like you?

yuta nearly cried at the thought. perhaps you had finally realized that.

but how fucking cruel was it that he lived a year of love and beauty and everything that was just you, getting a taste of what it would be like to live a life where you thought of him as something really special and a life where you wanted to basically do everything with him— only to be ripped away from him overnight? with no explanation?

by wednesday, yuta was dead inside.

you didn’t seem to want to do anything with him anymore like before. you didn’t excitedly jump and squeal and bounce on your little toes when it was time for the both of you to clean during your shift or restock the ice cream machine. you didn’t talk to him about elvis anymore or about another ludicrous idea on how to resurrect him from the dead— you didn’t smile like you used to whenever he tried to give you a small pastry, actually rejecting it instead, and you didn’t kiss his cheeks anymore.

by friday, yuji was fed the fuck up.

“what the fuck did you do?!” he whispered harshly at him from the bar, you somewhere in the diner taking orders. “that woman is like a walking zombie. her eyes have been red like red since monday, and she’s not yapping about elvis anymore.”

yuta leaned against the counter with a flat palm to his forehead in worry, feeling like he was gonna be fucking sick over you.

“i— i don’t know.” he stuttered. “i truly don’t know i don’t know what i said that’s making her act like that.”

“okay run it back for me run it back.” he placed both hands on his shoulders and roughly pulled yuta to face him. “explain to me again what happened on sunday.”

“we were closing…”

“uh huh?”

“she wanted to slow dance in the street so we did…”

“okay cute i love that part okay keep going..?”

“and then she asked why haven’t i kissed her—“

“she what?!” yuji choked, “you didn’t tell me this part! you fucking jumped to the parking lot!”

“my bad…” yuta muttered.

“shit— whatever keep going.”

“she also said that she thought i liked her and i said who doesn’t… and then i told her i was sure other guys would want to kiss her.”

“you said other guys?”

yuta’s eyebrows pinched. “yeah?”

“you. said…” yuji repeatedly slowly. “other. guys.”

“yes i did—”

“oh you’re done.” he rapidly shook his head. “i can’t help you i’ve done all i can you’re my buddy and i love you but i cannot take this anymore—”

“woah woah slow the fuck down—” he narrowed his eyes. “what’s so bad about what i said?”

“you rejected her.”

“what? no i didn’t—”

“yes!” yuji nodded frantically. “yes you did you freaking dingus! yuta she wanted a kiss from you a kiss! she literally said ‘when are you going to kiss me!’”

“i thought she was joking about that?” he answered softly.

“i might die early if you don’t figure this out right now.” yuji spat. “when you said other guys, she took it as you saying you’re sure other guys would want to kiss her and not you! do you understand what i’m trying to say?!”

yuta stayed silent.

“you said ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you,’ which is you indirectly saying ‘i’m sure other guys would wanna kiss you but not me.’ emphasis on others—”

“holy fucking shit.”

why was yuji kind of smart?

“oh thank god!” yuji breathed out, throwing his hands up in the air before clasping them together and looking up at the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut as he shook his interlocked hands and prayed.

“thank you! thank you elvis presley for finally making him see what a dumbass he’s been this entire year especially this moment your music has never been better—”

yuta shoved his fingers through his hair, his eyes bulging open. “holy fucking shit what the fuck did i do?!”

you walked past the bar just then and they both shot their arms down and tried to appear as nonchalant as humanly possible, you not even sparing them a glance as you walked over to the kitchen and disappeared from view.

“oh you have got to fix this.”

yuta spent the rest of the week trying to devise a plan to ease into the situation and have a conversation with you about it, but doing it fucking poorly as he miserably couldn’t come up with anything and yuji having even worse ideas— going as far as to suggesting he kidnaps you and takes you to elvis presley’s home in graceland and apologize there, yuji calling it a ‘grand gesture.’

by sunday, yuta was grasping at straws.

you slowly looked up from the bar as you saw a little sprinkled donut pastry slide across from the other side, your stinging eyes locking with yuta’s and feeling an immediate colossal pang through your chest when you saw him.

“you um—” yuta sighed softly through his nose. “you haven’t had a donut from here in a while…”

“oh.” your eyes stayed glued to the pastry. “thank you but i’m alright. i’m not that hungry right now.”

yuta bit his tongue. “please.”

he wasn’t pleading for you to eat the damn donut, but he pathetically couldn’t get the words out properly either.

“i don’t want it i’m okay.”

“why not?” he pushed. “you love donuts. you haven’t accepted my milkshakes either and you love those too.”

“i got sick of them.”

yuta froze.

you sounded like a completely different person at the moment, and yuta knew that your words held an entirely different meaning to them— his heart literally throwing up all over his insides in distress.

it was near closing time, the last pair of customers just about finishing up their meal as you both stared solemnly at the uneaten donut.

“are you—” yuta cleared his throat. “are you mad at me?”

the customers called you over then, and you quickly pushed yourself off from the edge and walked over as yuta heard your kind customer service voice from somewhere in the diner finalizing the bill for them, the bell above the door chiming as they left— you coming back around to stand back on the other side of the bar.

“sorry what did—”

“are you mad at me.”

you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “no. why would i be mad?”

“are you upset with me?”

you hummed a no.

yuta wanted to rip his hair out at the fact that he couldn’t fucking think of what to say to you— not wanting to accidentally say something that could offend you like last time without him even knowing, as he didn’t trust his mouth for shit.

“you haven’t looked okay since last sunday.” he murmured. “you don’t look happy around me anymore.”

you pulled your lips into a thin line and pressed hard, already feeling tears threatening to spill.

“it’s just school. it’s tough at the moment.” you mumbled.

“you’re lying.”

you slightly snorted. “okay thanks.”

“no— fuck i did it again.” he screwed his eyes shut. “i know you’re upset with me and i know you’re mad at me. you don’t talk to me as much, you don’t— you don’t take any of the sweets and drinks i give you when you always do, and you refuse to talk to me about elvis.”

“it’s school yuta i don’t know what else to tell you.”

he groaned and pushed himself off the bar, swiftly making his way around the counter to stand right in front of you as your pretty red eyes widened, your body immediately fidgeting.

“please… i miss you.” he mumbled, and your bottom lip started to wobble. “i miss when you wanted me around.”

“i— i do want you around.” you said, so so softly he could barely hear you.

“then please tell me what you’re feeling.”

you brought your hands up and pressed your fingers into your eyes, trying your absolute hardest to keep the tears inside as your body trembled.

“it’s all me it’s not you so— so please don’t worry about it it’s school and— and—”

“i love you.”

you paused.

yuta shakily pried your fingers away from your eyes, holding them in his hands as silent tears escaped down your cheeks.

you shook your head. “no you don’t. you’re just saying that—”

“i love you.”

“stop it you’re being mean i don’t need you to tell me you love me because you feel bad for me—”

you tried to tear your hands away but his grip only tightened as he shook his head and wrung you in, pressing your hands flat over his heart and holding them there as he leaned and pushed his lips to yours, the taste and feeling of you complete fucking paradise as he hoped that the weight of his lips were conveying how much he truly fucking loved you, how much he truly needed you in his life and how much he wanted you to treat him like he was something to you again.

he was tired of you carrying around the missing half of him, but not because he wanted you to give it back.

he wanted you to keep it. he wanted you to keep it forever and ever and not let it dangle over ineptly like you’d done for the past week. he wanted you to kiss it and shove it next to your heart and keep it there snug where it belonged until the day that he died.

the jukebox murmured another soft 50s tune, you slowly but surely letting your tense shoulders relax as you allowed your lips to move against his, your heart screaming and zooming through your bones at the fact that this man was kissing you like you’d wanted and dreamed for him to do so badly for the past year.

you both slowly pulled away with your lips quietly smacking apart, your stunning face finally looking at him the way you always did, the way you used to, even if it was a little timid still.

“are you lying?” you murmured.

his eyes softened as he gently shook his head.

“absolutely not.”

“but you rejected me.”

he sighed through his nose, his hands still pressing yours over his heart as you felt it beat rapidly under your palms.

“i— i didn’t mean to. i swear to god i didn’t mean to.” he gently dropped his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “i was being stupid and worded everything wrong. but— but i’m telling you now that i wanted to kiss you… so fucking bad. you’re too pretty for me so i honestly thought i just didn’t stand a chance…”

you couldn’t believe it.

“i don’t want other guys to kiss you.” he continued. “not at all… just me.”

“just you?” you murmured, and he nodded against your forehead.

“just me.” he propped his chin on the top of your head. “i’m sorry i hurt you and made you cry.”

“no yu…” you spoke gently. “i’m sorry too. and i’m sorry i said i was sick of the sweets you give me… i was lying i love them.”

he chuckled softly.

“it’s okay… i know.” yuta gently caressed your fingers with his thumbs. “but i love you pretty.”

“i love you.” you whispered, and you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him down in a warm embrace as he copied and pulled your body to his so so tightly, your hearts beating in time with one another as he felt his fingertips go numb at your confession, kissing your soft little cheeks over and over and over again until he got giggles out of you.

yuta loved sunday’s… and so did you.

and when he asked you to be his girlfriend that same night while standing over the jukebox, staring at the elvis presley song selection like you’d done many times together before in the past, yuta for the first time realized that he hadn’t felt alone since the moment you came into the diner with your mean friends— finding himself actually thanking them in his head for that, realizing that if they hadn’t then you probably would’ve left with them and he would’ve never gotten the chance to speak to you that night.

the next time you both came into work, you back to your usual jumpy self as you took every pastry that yuta gave you again and babbled about elvis and how you were gonna spend your hypothetical prostitution money on a flight to memphis to see his grave and pay your respects, yuji was elated.

“what happened?! you have to tell me what happened come on you can’t keep it from me i’m just a boy—”

you skipped into the kitchen then and smoothly walked in between them, pressing a gentle cute peck to yuta’s lips before grabbing what you needed from the back and walking back out, yuji’s mouth flinging open and his jaw hitting the fucking floor.

“how— what— when— where—”

you stepped back in after a second and bounded over next to yuta, his eyes soft as he watched you lean your head on his shoulder.

“what?” you asked. “what’s wrong yuji?”

“oh god no!” he wailed, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes in agony. “i thought this is what i wanted but it’s not! i want a kiss like that man!”

he flew to his knees in front of you and took your hand in his. “y/n why can’t you just wait for me please?! wait five years you’re so pretty i won’t confuse you like this dingbat and i’ll give you better sweets and milkshakes than him please!—”

yuta took your hand and slapped yuji’s away. “you freak stand up man the floor is dirty—”

“i need a popular gorgeous girlfriend like you yuta! how could you do this?! i thought we were brothers?! what spell did you cast?! have you ever learned jujutsu?! what have i done!—”

your manager popped his head into the kitchen and you all stiffened.

“yuji why are you crying? everyone outside can hear you, kid.”

yuji flew to his feet and shook his head. “m’not crying sir. everything is fine just fine and dandy sir.”

“okay… well can you check on your tables? leave yuta and y/n to work.”

“yes sir i’ll check on them sir.”

your manager nodded, muttering something about today’s generation as he left and went back inside his office, yuji walking out of the kitchen shortly after with his head down as you both tried your hardest to keep your laughter in, hands tightly clasped over your mouths and silently snickering to keep yuji from hearing it on the other side.

“p—poor him.” you heaved, a hand over your chest. “i hope— i hope he finds his ‘popular girlfriend’ when he’s older.”

“i wish her luck.” he muttered, and your hand slapped back over your mouth again as you burst into another fit of giggles alongside him.

yuta sheepishly outstretched his arms for you once you both settled down, you perking up excitedly with a cutesy little grin as you skipped into them, your arms wrapping snug around his torso as he brought his around your shoulders and squeezed, earning a tiny squeak from you that made him laugh.

he hoped to god he wasn’t dreaming.

yuta started shifting his weight from one to the other, gently moving and swaying you side to side in the kitchen as you giggled and let him lead you like that.

“you slow dancing yu?” you murmured softly, head coming up to give him a kiss on the cheek as he blushed.

“yeah..” he hummed. “i like it when we do.”

“i do too yu… it’s like our little thing! we’re so vintage.”

he snorted, and a charming beautiful smile spread across your face— one that made him wonder how he ever managed to land you when all he did was wait tables and stutter foolishly and wasn’t anyone particularly special like you were.

but you. you were everything. everything and way fucking more as you looked at him like he built the diner himself brick by brick for reasons he still couldn’t understand why.

yuta spoke after a moment.

“…what do you think of me?” he murmured suddenly, cheek mushing up against the side of your head as your brows furrowed.

“what do i think of you?” you asked, your perplexed face slowly shifting to one of realization as it dawned on you how yuta was reiterating your words to him from when you first met.

he grinned. “yeah.”

you pulled back to face him.

“i think you’re kind… you always have been even when i didn’t deserve it.”

his jaw dropped. “what? didn’t deserve it?—”

“i’m not finished!” you pouted, and he playfully rolled his eyes as he shut his lips.

“you’re too good to me yu…” you sighed a little. “you’re so helpful and selfless, and even when things piss you off you still take the time to appreciate them… like yuji.”

you both snickered then, and yuta brought his head down and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“i love the way you love, yuta. i love the way you love me and take care of me and always feed me…” you giggled. “without me ever having to ask.”

you felt his arms tighten around you.

“don’t ever think that you aren’t special to me or anyone or i’ll kill you and go to graceland without you.”

he laughed loudly in your neck and pulled back, half lidded ditzy loving eyes staring back as he leaned in and kissed you— gentle and delicate, his hands coming up to cup your warm cheeks.

“jesus man table nine would not stop asking me for— oh god no!”

you and yuta jumped apart, yuji immediately wailing and crying again as he flung himself to the floor on his knees.

“really?! in my kitchen?! in front of my face?! how cruel can you be yuta?! y/n can you maybe give me a ki—”

yuta leaned down and smacked him upside the head.

“owwwuhh! what’s wrong with just one little kiss man?!—”

“cut. it. out!—”

and just like always, the week came and went, sunday fast approaching as the day eventually came to close the diner together like lovely clockwork— wiping down tables and sweeping the floors, organizing the menu’s and restocking the crayons for the little kids, gulping down milkshakes with yuta like water as you worked…

but most importantly— sharing long kisses in between each sweeping rotation, kissing and pinching his cheeks repeatedly whenever he asked or did literally anything, and slow dancing to the same 50s love song that played when you first tried to kiss him at the bar that one night, swaying together in a silly way and giggling whenever you’d both nearly topple over to the floor— yuta beaming and lovesick as he looked down at your gorgeous smile and your gorgeous face… it gleaming with so much purpose, so much pure love and importance and value for him as you danced—

that yuta decided he wanted you to keep the other remaining half of him too.

forever.

this! is the song that was playing when reader was about to give yuta a kissy kissy on the bar counter, and again at the end if you’re curious :3 it was playing when i wrote it and it literally fit so well and lifted my entire body and spirit and i felt like i was THERE MAN! <333

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @2ukika @cramelmacchiao @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs

(HATE when tumblr doesn’t let me tag some of yall i don’t know why it does that!!)

[sushiyuzu]

emotional support

warning: fluff + tension — your boobs become soft!sylus’ emotional support 🙈 [ x fem!reader ]

- second acc: @blushpawss

you were relaxing on the bed after a long day, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when you heard the door creak open. without looking, you knew it was sylus. you could tell by the way he moved, the quiet confidence in his steps, the aura he carried everywhere he went.

“hey,” you greeted softly, glancing up at him with a small smile. “everything okay?”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stood at the edge of the bed, his usual stoic expression fixed on his face. crimson eyes locked on you, but there was something softer in them, something vulnerable he rarely showed.

before you could ask again, he moved. in one swift motion, he climbed onto the bed, gently pushing you back until you were lying down. his movements were deliberate, yet there was no urgency—just a quiet need.

“sylus?” you asked, your voice holding a hint of confusion as he positioned himself on top of you, his head resting squarely between your boobs.

“don’t,” he murmured against your chest, his voice slightly muffled by your shirt. “just... let me.”

you blinked, caught off guard by how soft his voice sounded. usually, sylus was the picture of control, always so serious and composed. but right now, he was melting into you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tight as if you were his lifeline.

“okay,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. “you wanna talk about it?”

he shook his head, his face completely buried in your chest now. “no. just need this,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “need you.”

you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was being. despite his tough exterior, sylus always had this soft, clingy side when it came to you. it was a side he didn’t show to anyone else, a side he only let out when he felt safe in your presence.

“rough day?” you asked, your fingers automatically threading through his silver hair, stroking it gently.

“you have no idea,” he muttered, his voice muffled by your chest. “the meetings, the arguments, the constant surveillance... it’s exhausting.”

you chuckled softly. “and i’m your emotional support pillow now?”

“more like emotional support boobs,” he mumbled, pressing his face even deeper between your breasts, his voice filled with that rare, teasing warmth he only used with you. “they’re soft... and they’re mine.”

“oh, they’re yours, huh?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“absolutely, kitten,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as he spoke. “this is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

you felt a warm flutter in your chest at his words, your hands continuing their gentle path through his hair. “well, if it helps, you can stay like this as long as you need.”

he didn’t reply right away, but the way his arms tightened around you spoke volumes. sylus was never the type to openly ask for affection, but you could always tell when he needed it. and when he did, he clung to you like this, as if you were his anchor in a world that constantly demanded his strength.

“i don’t deserve you,” he whispered after a long moment, his voice low, almost vulnerable.

you frowned, lightly tugging at his hair to get his attention. “hey, don’t say that.”

he finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you with those intense crimson eyes. there was a flicker of something raw in them, something he rarely let anyone see. “i’m serious,” he said quietly. “you’re too good to me. i don’t know how you put up with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart ached a little at how sincere he sounded. “because i love you, you idiot,” you said, smiling softly as you cupped his cheek. “and you’re not half as bad as you think.”

his gaze softened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, like he was memorizing your face. then, without warning, he dropped his head back down, once again burying his face between your boobs.

“whatever,” he muttered, his voice muffled again. “i’m staying here forever.”

you laughed, your chest shaking as you tried to wiggle beneath him. “sylus, you’re heavy!”

“deal with it,” he grumbled, nuzzling further into you. “this is my safe space now.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, though you were smiling the whole time. “you’re ridiculous.”

he didn’t say anything, but you could feel his lips curve into a small smile against your skin. for a man who always had to be serious and strong in front of others, sylus was the clingiest, neediest person when he was with you. and honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“you know,” you said after a moment, “if anyone else saw you like this, they’d never believe it. mr. serious, always-in-control sylus, reduced to a cuddle bug.”

he made a low sound of protest, tightening his hold on you. “don’t care what anyone else thinks,” he mumbled. “this is just for you.”

your heart melted at that. despite all his tough talk, sylus had such a soft spot for you. you were the one person who could break through his walls, the one he trusted with his vulnerable side.

“i’m glad it’s just for me,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “i love this side of you.”

he didn’t say anything, but you felt his fingers gently trace the curve of your waist, his touch light and reverent. for a while, you both just lay there in comfortable silence, his body completely relaxed on top of yours, his face still nestled securely in your chest.

“don’t ever let me go,” he whispered after a long while, his voice soft, almost sleepy.

“never,” you promised, your hands still stroking his hair.

he sighed in contentment, his breathing slowing as he settled more comfortably against you. “good,” he muttered, his voice drowsy now. “i’ll always need you.”

you smiled, feeling a warm glow of happiness spread through you. “and i’ll always be here.”

he nuzzled you one last time before drifting off, completely relaxed and at peace in your arms. and as you held him close, you realized just how much you loved this man—the serious, strong protector everyone else saw, and the soft, affectionate, clingy sylus that only you knew.

[catchastarorten]

hey lovely, i don’t know if you take requests but i absolutely love your works!! i wanted to see if you can do a jun ho fic x fem!reader where jun is in a coma after in ho shoot him on that island and reader has been visiting him every day since at the hospital. and one day he finally wakes ip and reader just takes care of him? just like a baby, food, kisses, cuddles. i feel like our man needs that :(

tyy if you would do this, have a great day or night 🩷🩷

Hello, anon! Here's your request :), I hope I did Jun-ho justice because you're absolutely right, the man needs some love and care, and he's gonna get it here. Hope you enjoy this — lots of love! <3

—Feels better with you.

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: after everything Jun-ho went through, he was in a coma, you were there with him when he finally woke up. He needed you. And you took care of him while he was recovering.

Content: fluff, comfort, kisses, yearning, a little bit of angst, Jun-ho in a coma then waking up, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.0k

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to machines, pale and fragile in a way you’d never seen before, broke something in you. This was the man who had once held you so tightly, who had whispered promises into your skin, who had loved you with a quiet intensity that made you feel untouchable. Now he looked so far away.

You visited him every day after hearing about how he'd been pulled from the ocean. He was in a coma.

You talked to him, your voice soft but steady, telling him about everything and nothing. You read to him, held his hand, brushed the hair from his forehead like you used to on those lazy mornings. And every day, you hoped he’d come back to you.

The day he woke up, it was like the world stopped. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and heavy with exhaustion. Your heart leapt into your throat as you leaned closer, your hands trembling.

Waking up felt like surfacing from a dream that had gone on too long—foggy and disorienting, the kind of dream where Jun-ho wasn't sure if he was still alive or dead. His body was heavy, every muscle aching, but especially from the shot on his shoulder, the weight that it carried.

For a moment, Jun-ho couldn’t remember where he was or why his chest felt so tight, why his head throbbed with such a sharp ache.

But then he saw you.

You were leaning over him, your eyes wide, tears brimming as if you held them back for too long. And when you whispered his name, the sound cracked something deep inside him.

“Jun-ho?” your voice echoed.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his voice coming out like sandpaper as he rasped your name back. Just your name, like it was the only word he'd held onto all this time. “Y/n…”

And just like that, the weight of the world fell away. You were there, holding his face, your touch soft and grounding, your presence the only thing grounding him to reality. “I’m here,” you told him, your voice thick with relief. “I’m right here.”

The look in your eyes nearly undid him. He wanted to say so much, to explain why he left, to apologize for everything—for leaving without a word, for the pain he knew he’d caused you—but his body betrayed him, too weak to form the sentences in his head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered instead, the words barely audible.

“Stop,” you shook your head, tears falling from your eyes. “You don’t have to explain anything right now,” you said gently, your voice a balm to his soul. “Just rest, okay? Please.”

He didn’t argue. He never could with you.

In the days that followed, Jun-ho spent more time watching you than anything else. He was too weak to do much else, and honestly, he didn’t mind. Every time he opened his eyes, you were there—staying with him, and he held your hand as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

You’d talk to him in that soft, steady voice of yours, telling him about the most ordinary things. It didn’t matter what you said. All he cared about was the sound of your voice, the way it wrapped around him like a blanket, comforting and warm. Like he was home again.

There were times, late at night, when you thought he was asleep, and he’d feel your fingers brushing against his, hear the quiet, shaky breaths you took as if trying to hold yourself together. Those moments broke him more than anything else.

He hated himself for leaving you. For disappearing the way he had, knowing how much it would hurt you. But the guilt wasn’t as strong as the relief he felt now, knowing that despite everything, you were still here. You hadn’t given up on him, and he loves you for it.

When he was finally strong enough to sit up on his own, you started bringing him food—simple things like soup or porridge. He’d watch you blow on each spoonful, your lips pursed slightly as you cooled the soup before holding it to his mouth.

He ate obediently, his eyes never leaving you, his gaze flickering to your lips like he was counting the moments until the bowl was empty and he could kiss you again. 

He wanted to kiss you so badly it hurt.

The first time he finally did, you were brushing your fingers through his hair. Without thinking, Jun-ho reached up and caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, then your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut as if the touch alone was enough to heal him.

Your heart clenched as you leaned down to kiss him properly, your lips soft against his. It was slow, tentative. Your lips were warm, familiar, and he felt a shiver run through him as he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

Jun-ho wanted to hold you properly, more than anything. To pull you into his arms and never let go. But the hospital bed wasn’t big enough for that, much to his silent frustration.

You let out a quiet laugh when he gave you a soft frown, but you gave him your arm instead, letting him curl up against you. He rested his head on your hand, his eyes focused on you as you gently ran your fingers through his hair.

The frown dissolved from his face, his eyes traced your features as if he was memorizing every little thing about you. His breathing slowed, and you knew he was at peace.

He needed this. All of it. And he needed you.