#second post for this bookstore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

biteyoubiteme · 6 months ago

Text

am/pm

fem!reader x bangchan

synopsis: you start your new job at a book cafe and start falling for your coworker.

warnings: 🔞!!! friends to lovers ?, praise, nipple play, oral (f!rec) multiple orgasms (f!rec), protected and unprotected sex (be safe pls they tried), creampie, use of the name baby, she/her, brat!reader kinda, whiny chan, choking (m!rec), spitting, cum eating, alcohol use, slight overstim (f!rec), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 7.4k big oops lol kinda lost the plot

an: breaking the norm from my regularly scheduled yeonkai post lol feedback is appreciated :)) not proof read sorry! [m.list]

you were nervous for your first day of work, worrying teeth leaving your lips red and sore. when you applied you thought it would be easy money, slow shifts where you could study at the register, the coffee shop attached giving you one free drink a shift. it was perfect but your anxiety was eating at you the entire walk to the bookstore. even the location was perfect, three minutes on your bike, a few more to walk. you didn’t even need to pick up new clothes, your usual attire fully excitable as long as you had your nametag visible.

the store won't open for another hour but you need to come in early to go over the basics. Your boss told you that although he wasn't going to be there his best employee would show you the ropes. When you get to the building the door is locked and you have to knock on the glass to try and get someone's attention but you can't see anyone from where you are. When someone does notice you you're pacing the sidewalk picking at your nail polish. “so sorry about that i forgot you were coming in early today,” the accented voice mutters, the ding of the bell making you turn around.

“It's okay,” you nod after a second. The man before you smiles, dimples and teeth on display, devastating enough to take someone out with a single glance. He holds the door open with his palm spread wide, still standing in the doorway so that when you pass you have to brush against his chest with your shoulder.

“I'm Chan, I work at the cafe most days now but I was told you would be working the store register and stocking?”

“Yes that's right,” you nod, taking in the small store, the dark hardwood floors creaking underfoot as you move further in. You had loved the store since your freshman year of college. The cafe at night was one of the only places that sold caffeine until late, the warm ambient lighting making it cozy. Even now with the morning light pouring in through the floor to ceiling glass windows, it was comforting, the smell of the freshly brewing pots of coffee waking you up.

“Great, I worked that job for a while so I should be the best help with setting you up,” Chan pulls the door closed behind you, locking back up. He moves around you waving to follow after him to the back room. To get there we have to weave through the stands of books laid out on tables and stacked on shelves and you feel in over your head looking at all the inventory. “for the most part it's mostly register work. When we get a new release it goes out on the front tables and then the old ones get pushed back to the shelves. nothing too major. I'm sure once you get a hang of it you will be very bored,”

“It's okay I brought homework,” you say, lifting your tote at your side.

“ahh, good idea. and if you get bored of homework you could come mess with me at the cafe, I'm always trying to come up with new drinks although I've been told by the other baristas that I'm not very good at that,” he chuckles deep in his throat before turning a corner and pushing open another door. “break room and the cubbies for your stuff. I haven't had anything stolen but if you're worried the front has enough space under the counter for your bag or even if you want to have easy access to your books that's fine too,” he gestures at a desk in the corner, “you clock in and out there, I'm sure you were told how to set up your checks to be deposited?”

“Yes,” you nod trying to pay attention to all the information.

“Okay great so let's get your name tag I think it's…oh here! there you go,” he passes you the little magnetic tag for you to put on. you glance at his name tag, the koala sticker faded but still cute. “Then let's see the register and go over that before we open the store, it's a Monday so we are usually really slow so during your shift we can walk around and go over the sections but the computer will tell you where to find most any book here. there is also a map taped to the counter to help customers so you can see that to help you,”

“got it, thank you,” you follow Chan out and the rest of the hour goes by with him cracking jokes and pointing out what shelves hold what books. When it was time for the doors to be unlocked it was anticlimactic because you only went back to having no one in the shop but the two of you. chan sitting on the stool behind his register for the cafe and you sitting on yours directly across the room. Chan had a book propped up to pass the time and you got started on your homework. your nerves are now officially gone with how calm it was going.

Even when customers did come in, you breezed through it, Chan's watchful eye not prying but comforting enough to know he would swoop in and help if it was ever necessary.

When another slow lull came and there were no customers Chan called across the short distance to ask you your coffee order, “I may be bad at coming up with new drinks but that doesn't mean I don't make mean drinks to begin with,” that dimpled smile hitting you right in the stomach.

“surprise me I'm okay with anything when it's free,”

“best perk about the job,” he agrees, turning to make you your drink. When he is done he brings it over to the register a small grin on his face as he passes the warm drink over. “go on try it,”

you take a sip humming your approval, “Oh wow that's really good,” there was no lid on the paper cup to show off his latte art, the heart feathering out to where your lipstick stain hugs the rim. you wipe at the corner of your mouth catching the stray foam on your thumb and licking it off.

chan is stuck watching your every move, all day he's been finding it hard to concentrate on anything he's doing. he was trying to play it cool even after your introduction, but he was caught the moment you turned around when he opened the door, your perfume making him want to lean in when you brushed past him. It didn't help that he was right across from you all day, the perfect seat for him to make sure you weren't struggling although that was an excuse because he knew how easy the job was he just wanted to watch you.

Now you're basically moaning over something he made and he feels bad for having any thoughts about you. then you swipe at your lip, thumb in your mouth, how is he supposed to think about anything else?

“cinnamon and apple?” you ask your gaze so attentive.

“warm and cozy,” Chan smiles watching as you take another sip that hum caught right in the back of your throat and he wishes he could swallow the sound himself. but the jingling of the bell by the door jolts him back to reality. “let me get back,”

“Thank you!” you call after him while the customers make their way through the shelves. Chan waves your words away,“Anytime,”

later when both of your replacements come in for their shift Chan helps show you how to clock out and where you can find your schedule. “looks like we have morning shifts together,” he comments, “I'll have to give you my number so when you get to the door I can let you in,” it's an excuse really he could leave the door unlocked after he gets in, no one ever tries to come in that early anyways most of their customers come to study after class.

“sure that works perfectly,” you smile unlocking your phone and passing it over, he does the same and you type your number in for him.

“best barista?” you laugh when you see the name he plugged in.

“Seungmin might not like that but who cares,” he chuckles, “best AM barista might be better,”

you both walk out together and you notice you're headed in the same direction, “do you live over on Sixth?”

“yeah, do you?”

“the first apartment building on the corner,”

“Me too!” The two of you were a few steps away from each other and Chan took the opportunity to catch up. “official walking buddies now? can't change fate,”

“yeah okay,” you laugh, falling into step next to him.

“The boss said you were in school, the campus right up the road?”

“yeah, I have a lab at five actually,”

“The shop is the perfect job for you then, my classes are also kinda late in the day so I get it,” he ruffled his hair and pushed back the strands from his forehead only to have them fall right back into place. The two of you make comfortable conversation until you make it to the lobby of your apartment building, Chan holding the door open for you before you press the elevator button.

when you two make it into the elevator you ask him, “What floor?” as you press your own button.

The space is small and he leans over to see the button panel, body heat, and his colleague filling the space. and you didn't mind it at all, he smelled like a mix of baked goods and sandalwood. “looks like we live on the same floor,” he chuckles, pulling back to stand straight. both of you are silent eyes trained ahead as you mutter, “Small world I guess,”

“Very,” he nods, chewing on the corner of his bottom lip. When the elevator dings and opens you wave goodbye as you both move down the opposite halls. He was about three doors down and when he got his key in he looked up with a smile waving before walking in. When you close the door to your apartment you lean against the door letting out the longestsigh you could muster. of course, your hot coworker shares your schedule and lives right down the hall. of fucking course.

The following morning you're tugging on your coat, pulling the door closed and your tote bag keeps sliding down your shoulder. You're muttering profanities quite enough as you try to get the key into the lock when you don't hear Chan approach. you flinch so hard you think your heart stopped. “You scared me!” and Chan's giggling reached out for your tote bag pulling it from the crook of your arm where it kept falling.

“I'm sorry I thought you heard me say good morning,” he slings your bag over your shoulder as you finally lock the door.“I was running a bit late so I thought why not just wait anyways since we are headed to the same place?” he's a little shy as he says it following you to the elevator, “although I know that defeats the purpose of giving you my number but you know thought that counts and everything right?” he's rambling his grip on the tote bag strap turning white-knuckled, his free hands at the back of his neck messing with his hair.

“That works perfectly with me and I can carry my own bag,” the elevator dings as you say it and Chan shakes his head stepping in before you holding his hand out so the doors stay open.

“I don't know how you carry this thing around its like a bag of rocks it's so heavy,”

“textbooks,” you correct, leaning over him to press the lobby button. “although you're right I should get a better bag to carry them around but that one is so cute,” you run your fingers over the design that made you buy the tote in the first place, “everything is worth the struggle as long as its cute,”

“agreed,” Chan nods, watching your fingers run up and down the fabric, your nails painted the prettiest shade of blue and he has to swallow to push away his thoughts of you wrapping your hand around him. but the image won't fade so he shakes his head trying to think of all the things he needs to do to set up for the day.

He holds the door open for you the same way he had your first day, letting you brush past him only this time he's following you to clock in watching your hips sway in your skirt all the way to the break room. and when the day starts to go by he tries not to look your way as you press your pen to your lips every once in a while jotting down notes in the margins on sticky notes. watching you smile up at customers and helping them.

chan brings you a coffee halfway through your shift when it is slow, this time it is sweet with caramel, “oh wow definitely best AM barista material,” you nod licking the whipped cream from your top lip. he flushes a deep red chuckling, “its nothing,” but he was starting to realize he would learn any drink combo to hear that hum over and over again.

and when you're walking home together you laugh at his dad jokes making his heart flutter, he already can't wait until tomorrow to see you.

You've been working at the store for about a month, and your routine is always the same. Chan waits by the elevator for you to walk, he makes you a new drink halfway through your shift, walks you back and you do it all over the next day. you realize it's the best part of your day and when you have the day off you're stuck wondering what Chan's doing, if he's wondering the same thing about you. it's late on one of your off days when he texts you, do you smell that or is that just my side of the hallway? and you know exactly what he's talking about.

someone was cooking dinner in their apartment and the savory smell was wafting through from under the door making you hungry.

definitely smelling something good if that's what you're asking

I think it's the people in front of me. Would it be wrong to show up with a bowl and ask for some?

not if you ask really really nicely I'm sure they will cough some up

no, I'm too shy if they reject me I won't be able to ever leave my place again

I'll bring my own bowl they can't turn away both of us if we beg

seriously tho are you hungry because I'm starving and Seungmin texted me the cafe specials menu

You're sure Chan would be able to hear you squeal all the way in his apartment. It wasn't a full-on offer out but it was close enough and your fragile little heart was consumed with its crush on Chan. he had you kicking your feet like a school girl and you couldn't help but smile.

The best PM barista does make a mean sandwich

be ready in 5?

if he didn't hear you before the whole floor definitely did now. you jumped up from your couch to get ready. Maybe it was nothing, just two friends, coworkers, even going out, to your place of work, for a casual dinner. only you could tell yourself that all you wanted but it didn't stop your excitement. sure you saw Chan nearly every day but not usually when you weren't already scheduled to see each other. only once when you were both crossing paths in the lobby and that didn't count because you were late to class and rushing and he was with a friend, but that didn't stop the butterflies you felt when he gave you a wave and smile as you passed.

You were ready in five minutes pulling your door closed to find Chan leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, a dark jean jacket over a hoodie, his jeans fitting him just right. “ready?” he asked, pulling himself up to his full height.

“yup,” it's a squeak as you say it, your cheeks colored in embarrassment. He was wearing a beanie with his ears peeking out from under the fabric. When you stepped outside you realized how cool it was outside, your thin sweater doing you no good.

Chan holds the door open for you to lead the way, your arms crossed before you feel the heavy weight of his jean jacket slung on your shoulders. “You look a little cold there,” he smiles and you push your arms through the warm sleeves. it smells like him without the coffee scent usually following him after a shift.

“thank you,” your fists wrapping around the oversized sleeves.

When you make it to the cafe it's filled with light chatter, the golden glow from the lamps making the hardwood look shiny as you both stand in line for the cafe. your other coworkers behind the counters joking around as they make drinks and call out orders. You have gotten to know most of them when you have an occasional late shift but not as well as you got to know Chan. That was mainly because you two didn't have many customers in the morning time and you could talk even across the store without worrying about someone listening or scolding us. The night shifts were busy and most of the time a little loud.

When you make it to the counter seungmin's warm smile greets you, “I know you,” he points but you can't miss the way his gaze falls to the jacket you're wearing and back to Chan his eyebrows raising but he doesn't ask.

“We are here because I heard Chan's trying to come for your title of best barista,”

“he can't make a coffee to save his life,”

“Hey! I make excellent coffee,”

“Because I taught you,” the smug smile on Seungmin's face made his cheeks round. “what can I get you two?”

You both order reaching for your bag when you feel Chan's hand in the pocket of the jacket you are wearing. He is standing behind you, one hand on your arm and the other wrapped around to pull his wallet from where it's at your hip. “I got it,” he mumbles so close to your ear you almost shiver. “you can get it next time,”

you give a slow nod trying to catch your breath before Seungmin asks, “Hey are you two coming out with us tomorrow night? they opened this new club downtown we wanted to go try,”

“oh I don't know,” you shrug and Chan adds, “I'll go if you go,” he looks almost hopeful for you to say yes.

“Well then sure why not? we can Uber there together,”

“perfect i'll let the guys know,” Seungmin hands over the receipt with your order number, “should be out in a few,”

“Thank you,” you and Chan say together, moving to the other side of the counter to wait for your things. When they come out Chan takes the tray and when you think he's going to turn to one of the empty tables he keeps going over to the bookstore side. you follow after him as he weaves his way to the break room.

“kinda loud out there,” he says, setting the tray down on the little table they have set up.

“Definitely different from how we usually see the store in the morning,” you agree, pulling out a chair to sit. The break room wasn't like most other breakrooms you had been to in other jobs. this one was set up like a cozy office, the building was old and well-kept enough to make every space look cozy. the lamp in the corner of the room giving the warm glow the others made in the cafe. you take a sip of your fruity drink not picking out a coffee this late when you didn't need the aid for an all-night study session. “now this is really good,” you say nodding down at your straw.

“new menu item I haven't tried yet,” Chan sips his drink, an iced tea. “this one's good too, try it,” he slides his glass across the table toward you.

Chan watches you take your sip from his drink, the hum he loves showing itself for the second time tonight. “good?”

“Amazing, here try mine,” and so he does, nodding in approval.

the two of you chat not even noticing how late it's getting by the time you're done and taking the tray back out to the cafe. most of the building is cleared of people, seungmin wiping down the counters when you leave. It's noticeably colder outside and you wrap your arms around yourself happy to have chan’s jacket for warmth or you would have had a cold the next morning for sure. Neither of you asked if this was in fact a real date or something between friends. you don't even notice that you have taken his jacket back to your apartment until you're changing for bed and realize you never took it off.

The next morning when you leave for work you pass it back to Chan who smiles as he takes it back. “Thank you for that last night,” you say waving your hand as if you could cut through your embarrassment. Why was it that crushes made you feel like everything you did was so awkward? you were returning a jacket for crying out loud. It was totally normal, especially between friends but you couldn't help but blush.

for the rest of the day, you two fall into your routine. Towards the end of your shift, a customer knocks over a display of books and you assure them you will pick them up once you're done checking them out, and it's no problem at all. Once they leave you bend to get the books picked up and Chan can't look away. you're wearing a skirt, the simple black panties you're wearing flashing him every once in a while as you reach over. He doesn't even notice he's overfilled the coffee cup in front of him until the coffee splashes down to his shoes. “oh fuck,” he mutters catching your attention as you restack the books. hes red from his cheeks to his ears as he wipes up the mess. but as he pushes the black rag around he can only think about you bending over, the fabric of your underwear hugging your skin dimpling the flesh of your ass. now he's over-wiping the counter thinking about it, so lost in thought he doesn't notice you come up to stand right at the till. “guess we both are having messy days,” your voice pulling him from his thoughts and he stammers over his words, “y-yeah messy,”

but the word only fuels him, if anything was to be messy it needed to be you, he wanted too badly to make a mess of you.

“I just saw the next shift workers walk in. Are you ready to head out?”

“yes yes let me just put a lid on this, do you want anything to go?”

“No, I'm good I don't need all that caffeine before heading out for drinks tonight,” Chan had forgotten about that but now he was thinking about what you were going to wear, about what it would be like going anywhere else besides work and the apartment building with you.

When it's time to leave for drinks that night you text Chan you're ready and you book the Uber to come pick you two up.when you lock the door to your place and turn around to find Chan there you could have fallen to your knees at how downright edible he looked. those slouchy jeans showing a thin strip of the elastic to his underwear, the black tank hugging him in all the best places under his leather jacket. you wanted to hook your finger in the loop of his jeans and tug him to you and never let him go, link him to you like he was a keychain you couldn't remove easily. and his eyes were tracing up your bare legs, over the short ruffled shorts you wore, your own tank hugging you giving you the best cleavage. Chan's blush was so contradictory to his outfit and it made him so much cuter, eyes jumping to yours to not make it obvious that he was checking you out just as much as you were checking him out. “cars out front,” you say brushing past him.

at the club, Chan could not stop watching you.

you were sitting in the booth next to him and seungmin, lips around the straw of the drink in your hands, paying all your attention to Felix talking about a customer who gave him a hard time.

“he just kept asking for a blue book over and over and I could not tell you how many blue books I pulled off the shelves for him,” your giggle was more intoxicating than anything in that room.

“Did you find it?”

“no! he walked out on me and to this day I question if he was just fucking with me or not,”

The rest of the group was finally showing up and the booth was only so big. Chan rested his arm behind your head scooting until his leg was flush against yours so that the rest of them could fit comfortably. He hated how jealous he was feeling as you paid everyone more attention than he was getting. and when Hyunjin asked you to dance he could have ground his teeth to dust. “sure!” your drink is empty in front of you.

you were in the middle of the booth and Hyunjin was on the end so he stood making room for the others to move but they didn't hear the request over the sound of the music. “Just jump over,” seungmin laughed but you followed his suggestion like it was the best idea, mostly because you were a little tipsy and needed to be out of the booth after being squashed in it for over an hour. you brought your knees up to your chest before putting your hands on Chan's shoulder to push yourself up to stand on the seat. As if you were a beacon all of them turned to watch you if they weren't listening before they would be now. Chan's hand reached out to your thigh to steady you, the warmth of his palm sinking right to your stomach. there were only two people besides you to jump over and both of them leaned back as Hyunjin reached his hands out to help you. you laughed as you jumped over, hyunjin's hands on your waist helping you most of the way but the second Chan's hand was gone you wanted it back.

Hyunjin pulled you to the dance floor keeping you within the eye line of the table. the bodies of everyone pushing you and Hyunjin together until you were completely pressed with your back to his front. “Want to make Chan jealous?” his mouth pressed into your ear so that you could hear him over the music.

“What?” hyunjin's hand slid over your waist right where your tank top met the top of your shorts.

“We have a bet going that he won't last two songs until he's dragging you away from me,” Hyunjin guides your hips to grind against him and your eyes flicker to find Chan's gaze burning into you two. if looks could kill Hyunjin would be six feet deep.

“he won't fall for it,” you shake your head but not for wanting to see if it actually would work.

“want in? or do you not like him like that? because he sure as hell likes you like that I mean look at him,” and you do, the rim of his glass pressed to his bottom lip, eyes devouring you as Hyunjin's hand slips your tank up revealing a thin strip of skin. he's still with his arm slung over your empty seat, the rise and fall of his chest showing off his pecks. you raise one arm reaching behind you to tug on Hyunjin's hair and Chan follows the movement, jaw tight as he sets his glass down.

“how much if he doesn't last one song?”

“a lot more than if he doesn't last two,” Hyunjin chuckles and maybe it is the drinks talking but you nod, “Add me in, I'll Take that bet,” your free hand covers one of Hyunjin dragging it up your ribs as you let him guide your hips against his.

it doesn't take long for Chan to leave the booth at all.

Chan does not know what comes over him as he watches you with Hyunjin only that he needs to be the one touching you if anyone at all is to be doing any touching at all. Hyunjin lets you go with no question, slapping Chan on the back before making his way back to the booth. you honestly can't believe it worked as well as it did, the way that Chan didn't even last half a song let alone two. “I didn't know you felt that way about me,” your smile teases as Chan grabs your waist and pulls you into his chest as if he can erase the feeling of hyunjin on your skin.

“Seriously? The heavy staring hasn't been enough because I thought my cover was blown the first day,” his smile is lazy, the drinks hitting him in just the right way.

“first day? not just because your friends set you up?”

“nope,” his hands slide down the curve of your ass until they are cupping you, tugging your body even closer to him, he's hard in his jeans, the bulge digging into your stomach. “they definitely didn't need to try hard at all, not when I want you this bad already,”

your hands slide up his chest and round to the back of his neck, “Maybe I'm a little oblivious and I need you to tell me in great detail that you like me or I might not be privy to believing you at all,” the way that you're looking at each other is consuming, so much so that you don't realize him dipping closer until his nose is brushing against yours. eyes fluttering shut you tilt your head ready for his kiss when he stops right as they barely brush, “if you needed me to praise you all you needed to do was ask,”

“Isn't that exactly what I was doing?” you nudge your nose against his trying to reach his lips as he pulls away grinning wide, dimples on display.

“I guess you could say that,” one of his hands slid up your back to hold the base of your skull.

“You're teasing me,” your pout made Chan want to kiss you even more.

“I think they have another bet going that I can't last one song before dragging you out of here and I'm pretty sure once I get my mouth any closer to you they will be right and I'll lose out on $100,” Chan can feel you laugh against his chest, the rumble in your chest drawing him closer.

“What makes you think I'm leaving with you?” You're taunting him now, fingers running through his hair as he squeezes your ass hard enough to make your pussy lips open.

“We drove here together,” he states and you fuck with him a bit more, “but I heard Hyunjin has a car I can catch a ride in,”

Chan can't stand the sound of anyone else's name coming out of your mouth when he's this hard when you're pressed so close to him. he finally kisses you, soft lips tasting like tangy alcohol. he wants to channel the last month into this kiss, every want and glance. he can hear his friends cheering from the table but he couldn't care less not when you're here.

when you pull away you're breathless, “do you still win if I drag you out of here?”

Chan can't form words before you pull him after you, your hand fisted into his top. his tongue pressed to his cheek, his grin so wide no one could miss it even if they tried. when you walk past the table you point at them, “You own me!”

but they are all forgotten the second you're out in the cold air. you shiver, pulling out your phone to order an Uber and Chan slings his jacket over your shoulders just like the night before. The leather is warm and soft against your skin and he wraps his arms around your hands sliding past the jacket and wrapping around you. his bare arms rippling and you could bite him with how good he looks flexing right now. you don't even care that he could be getting cold when this is the view.

Chan is all over you once you climb into the Uber, “safety first,” he mutters into your mouth before he pulls your seatbelt around you to buckle. You could laugh at how cautious he is but the seatbelt doesn't stop him from trying to pull you close enough to almost be in his lap, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck and to your chest. never in your life have you ever spoken in an Uber let alone almost strip in the backseat but if Chan had asked you would have. and when you're in the elevator you almost forget to press what floor you're trying to make it to, chan asks if you want to go to your place or his, and your response is you pulling his keys from his front pocket fingers brushing his straining cock making him whine in your ear. “Yours,” you say into your kiss, pressing the keys to his chest before he's dragging you to his door fumbling with the key ring.

Chan pushes his jacket from your shoulders once the door is closed and locked behind him. your hands jolt out to grab both his biceps and he stops in his tracks, “do we need to slow down?” the pure concern on his face is enough to make your knees weak, “we can stop if it's too much,” you will kindly choke on him for being so worried.

“no, I want you to fuck me I just really wanted to see sturdy the handles ill be holding will be when you're in me,” your nails dig into his arms and he gives a soft whine.

“You're so fucking perfect,” it's a groan into your mouth as he wraps himself back around you walking you backward towards the bedroom. he slaps the lights on before you make contact with the bed. he breaks the kiss letting you sit, the comforter soft against your bare legs. chan gets to his knees in front of you tugging off your boots, kissing the inside of your knee, and sending a bolt right to your center. “How many times do you think I can make you cum?” He asks pulling off your socks before kissing up your thigh. He runs his hands up your calves before grabbing the back of your knees and spreading your legs.

“I don't know you might have to try really hard to get me there once,” he scoffs before nipping your inner thigh with his teeth, your knees instantly try to close but he shakes his head.

“Maybe we start our own bet, I get you to come at least three times and then you owe me another date,”

“Another one? could you remind me of the first time?”

“I haven't fucked you hard enough to forget simple things yet baby,” he stands tugging his tank top off by pulling the back of the collar. your mouth is dry at the sight of him leaning back on your hands to take him in. Those jeans are low on his hips as he toes out of his shoes, “take your top off,” he nods, popping the button of his jeans.

you follow your orders, you're braless, nipples already hard and aching for attention. “You listen so well,” he tugs the zipper of his jeans down but doesn't pull his pants down. Instead, he leans over you, kissing you down your neck until he makes it to your tits, sucking one nipple between his teeth and rolling the other one between his fingers. you open your legs to him, your shorts are too tight all of a sudden, too hot. lacing your fingers in his hair you throw your head back as he gives your nipple a tug with his teeth before switching to the neglected side. you moan rolling your hips into his clothed bulge and he sinks deeper into the cradle of your hips. “the prettiest girl making the prettiest sounds,” you whimper at his words knowing you are completely soaked.

chan pulls away letting you lay out on the mattress before he hooks his fingers in your shorts and panties tugging them down your legs. he moans at the sight of you laid out before him, he tugs one of your legs to the side to reveal more of you to him, glistening under the lights. never has he been so excited to devour someone and that's just what he does, not waiting before his mouth is on you. he groans against your clit the vibration making your knees weak, “you taste as good as you look,” he wraps his arms under and around your thighs to spread you wide before diving back in.

your hands twist in his duvet, your orgasm building faster than it ever has before. your back arching off the bed before you start riding his face so close to the edge that you don't expect his fingers until they are pressed right against the gummy spot inside you and you’re seeing spots as you cum. Chan is licking you clean as you ride out your high before he stands fingers in his mouth watching your legs twitch. “That was one,” a cocky grin present as he moves around to the nightstand to pull out a condom.

you sit up on your elbows watching him strip, thick veiny cock hitting his stomach. He climbs up on the bed resting against the pillows and headboard before rolling the condom on. “if your legs still work I'd love it if you gave me a ride,”

“and if they don't?” you ask watching him spit into his hand before grabbing himself and tugging loosely.

“I'll sit here and finish by myself but wouldn't it be so much fun to watch me disappearing into you?” you can feel yourself flutter at the thought. pulling yourself up and crawling up the bed to chan he grabs your hips to help steady yourself as you straddle him. you sink your hips down letting your wetness coat the condom, Chan's head is thrown back as he whines, “Please don't tease me,” his thumbs digging in hard enough to bruise your waist like a belt.

“Whiny baby,” you coo, pressing a kiss over his pulse, the rapid beating so similar to your own as you reach down between you two to guide him to your entrance. Chan is gasping when you sink onto him, slowly inching down and rising every few strokes before you're finally stretched enough to sink fully seated on him. his tight stomach fluttering under your hands as you use him as leverage to rise again. you can feel him so deep he's kissing your womb, right in your throat.“god you're so fucking warm, just fucking right,” he moans half-lidded eyes watching where your bodies meet, you'regoing too slow for him and he flicks his hips up to watch himself disappear in the sweetest cunt he's ever had.

“you're so big,” you whimper reaching for one of his hands to press into your pelvis, the added pressure makes your head fall forward in a moan, “you feel so good,”

“Choke me please,” he moans head on the pillows as he plants his heels to get more leverage to thrust into you, “please,” the whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge. you use one of your hands to wrap around his throat, the vein pulsing under the tips of your fingers. “harder baby I can take it,” you nod at his words increasing the pressure you have on him, his eyes fluttering shut as he snaps his hips up into you. He keeps his hand pressed to your pelvis and he can feel each thrust meet the heel of his palm. your knees planted firmly against the mattress he lets go of your hip to press his thumb into your clit. you cry out as he keeps up his brutal pace rubbing your clit in circles and driving you over the edge. you can't even move as he pulls out not wanting to cum at the feel of you squeezing him just yet. your hand still around his neck as you come down from your high, breathing labored.

“That was two,” he smirks when you sit up, twitching when your clit brushed his thigh. “onto three,” he wraps his arms around you flipping you over so that you're now laying where he had been. he pushes your legs up so that your shins are against his chest. he can't help himself, he's not even in you and he's trying to rut against your legs, his whines and moans sounding almost pained. “please I need to feel you, all of you,” he begs, “I promise ill pull out I just want to feel you,” his breathy pleas pressed right into your ear, hair sticking to your sweaty cheeks. You're holding onto his shoulders nodding without thinking twice because you need to feel him so bad. He reaches down to roll the condom back off not caring anymore about anything but being in you as deep as possible. As close as possible.

you cry out when he sinks back in, so much warmer and thicker than before, every ridge in his cock fitting perfectly with you. your hands slip down to his biceps nails digging back in as you hold on as Chan snaps his hips forward moaning deep enough that you feel the rumble in his stomach pressed against your legs.

chan is fucking you so hard the headboard is hitting the wall, he's pounding in over and over that your toes are curling. Then he sinks his hips finding a new angle until he's hitting your gummy spot, your head falls back and he presses his open mouth to your neck moaning against your skin the feeling singing all the way to your teeth. “I needed to feel you, I needed to feel that you're mine,” his words are choppy as he keeps up his pace. “you feel so fucking right,” he pulls back enough to push your legs a bit wider and he's back to his pace, your back arching into him. You're full of electricity, every nerve humming as he rocks back and forth. you can feel him twitch inside you and Chan knows he wouldn't be able to pull out even if he tried.

he fully seats himself in you as he cums, thick hot ropes of it filling you up. his moan is so loud in your ear and the feeling of his release triggers your third orgasm, your cry half scream as you follow right after him.

Chan's never cum so much in his life, his hips moving lazily as you flutter around his cock taking everything he has to offer. when he pulls out a trail of your mixed fluids follows, so much so that it makes a puddle on the duvet under you. Chan runs his finger through the cream rubbing it up your clit and back down to your entrance before he leans over and licks you clean. “Chan!” your knees are shaking, tears threatening to spill as he pulls himself back up pressing his mouth to yours and letting some of the cum he's collected spill onto your tongue. he kisses away the saltiness before pulling back, to gaze down on you, “that was three, looks like you owe me one more date,”

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solaireverie · 7 months ago

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op81 | best he'll ever write

summary: [ author!oscar piastri x f!driver!reader — social media au ] being the partner and muse of a celebrated author means that fans start connecting the dots sooner rather than later

faceclaim: gracie abrams

author’s note: i'm secretly a ya romcom book girlie and i feel like that shows SO MUCH in this fic 🙈 delusional for life!

[ masterlist / guidelines / lola's masterlist / series masterlist ]

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, liakblock and 534,230 others

geotag: melbourne, australia

yourusername short break down under 🐨

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user great race at the australian gp y/n!

↪ user first points of the season let's goooo

↪ yourusername and hopefully many more to come 🙌

logansargeant STRAYAAA 🦘🇦🇺🦘🇦🇺

↪ yourusername VEGEMITE ON TOAST 🤤

↪ user sometimes i forget that logan and y/n are both gen z 😂

user the puppy is so adorable 🥺

↪ user i wonder whose it is 👀 y/n's said that her schedule doesn't allow for pets

oscarpiastri not my birthday cake...

↪ yourusername sorry not sorry 😉

↪ user who the hell is oscar piastri and why is y/n replying to his comment 😭

↪ user don't you talk about my favourite best-selling author like that 🤺

oscarpiastri has added to their story

seen by yourusername, logansargeant, jennyhan and 124,203 others

you replied to oscarpiastri's story

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris and 3,393,210 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername can't believe that little kid is now a 3-time nyt best-selling author 🥹 so proud of you oscarpiastri 💗 i haven't been able to put eighty-one seconds down 📖 available in bookstores near you!

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user i love how y/n always supports and promotes oscar's books 🥺

↪ user they're so adorable together my heart can't take it

oscarpiastri Thanks for the encouragement. Couldn't have done it without you 👍

↪ yourusername damn right you couldn't have 😤

user okay but who took the photo of y/n 👀

↪ user i'm betting it was oscar 😜

↪ user hello what 😳😳😳

↪ user oh my sweet summer child...

liked by yourusername, hachetteaus, johngreenwritesbooks and 293,192 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri Thank you to everyone who's been on this journey with me. Eighty-One Seconds is finally yours and we can't be more happy to share it with you. As many of you have guessed, it is my homage to Y/N and all the time we have spent together. My wife, my love, my heart. I'm grateful that you're in my life. Forgive me for re-using my words, but here's to eighty-one more years together.

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user hold on a damn second 🤚 his WIFE??? when was this a thing 🧐

↪ yourusername 🤭

↪ user give us answers please 🙏 i haven't had peace since oscar posted this

yourusername i love you too, oscar jack piastri 🤍

↪ user oh he literally named his mc after himself 😭

↪ user GOODBYE??? JACK AS IN HIS MIDDLE NAME??? oh my god they really weren't subtle

williamsracing signed copy when 😏

↪ hachetteaus already on its way 🫡

user honestly i'm surprised they managed to hide their relationship for this long 💀

↪ user oh they did NOT we were just blind

↪ logansargeant I didn't find out until I got the wedding invitation in the mail 🤝

↪ landonorris i think that's just cause you're oblivious mate 😂

↪ logansargeant what???

↪ landonorris they literally make out all the time in williams hospitality

↪ yourusername lando... 😒

user if your man isn't writing a book professing his love for you, what's he doing with his life?

↪ user oscar's set the standard 😌

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @scenesofobx @vellicora @boiohboii @julesbabey @flannelforthetoads @misartymis @c-losur3

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

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kuyelams · 2 years ago

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my fave bookstore experience was when I saw an entire shelf filled with fnaf novels next to a shelf filled with Colleen Hoover books

#I saw a post talking abt how they were terrorized by her books and I was like oh! I remember this happening to me #anyway my second fave experience was this one bookstore that had a little birdie flying around #it would rest on my arm n shoulder a lot or follow me around :) what a cutie #I need to go there again just for that bird

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starseneyes · 9 months ago

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Heart-Warmed and Teary-Eyed: Kindness Matters

I have a P.O. Box that I check once a week. Right now, I mostly use it for letter correspondence with my friend @always-coffee—a tremendous published poet and beautiful human I met by chance online.

Monday she said she mailed her latest letter. So, I stopped by the Post Office on the way home from dropping the kids at school on the off-chance it made it through USPS faster than normal.

I found no letter inside, but a flyer from the Post Office saying they were holding something for me that wouldn't fit in the box. I wondered if Ali had sent a letter that was too tall (because she has such amazing stationary). I had no idea what was about to happen.

I glimpsed the package as they pulled it from a cabinet and wondered what on earth Ali sent me. That was not a letter.

Then I saw The Golden Notebook Bookstore label and knew it was something @neil-gaiman related.

For those who don't know (normal people who don't follow Neil on social media, for example), that is the local bookstore near Neil's home in New York. He periodically signs books for them that are sold with zero markup.

I am a fan of Neil as a writer, but also as a human. I don't follow many celebrities—a side effect of my set-kid youth—but I did follow Neil last year during the WGA Strike. Been a fan of his for ages, and Neverwhere is my favorite book.

Ali knows all this, and I just knew she had done something sneakily sweet.

I rushed home with a smile on my face, trying desperately not to set off the speed-trap on the road back. Let me tell you, driving speed limit when excited is not easy for me!

When I finally whipped into my driveway and sprinted into my house, I carefully opened the package (more excruciating slowness) and tried not to cry happy tears when I saw what was inside. Wrapped tenderly in bubble-wrap rested... a book.

What You Need to be Warm is a poem Neil wrote that features illustrations from some of the best artists in the industry. That in itself is wonderful. But the mission of this little book is what is so amazing.

See, the sale of every copy supports UNHCR—the UN Refugee Agency. This book literally helps people when you buy it.

I have wanted to buy a copy for ages, but you all know I thrift and buy books secondhand. I didn't want to do that with this book.

I wanted to buy it outright to ensure the maximum amount of money went to support the cause. So, I have been waiting until we were a little more stable so I could buy it full-price, outright.

Thanks to Ali, I have a copy that was purchased outright (so it helps people in need) and it is signed!

Yes, it's a signed copy with pen bleed on the opposite page, and all.

I would never do something like this for myself. You all know I am woefully practical and doing things for myself isn't second-nature. I’m working on it, but it is slow coming reprogramming a lifetime of behavior. So gifts like this... oh, they mean everything.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude that such a kind soul would do something like this for me. Thank you, Ali.

#Gratitude #Acts of Kindness #What You Need to be Warm #UNHCR #Good People Still Exist #And Ali is one of the brightest stars shining in the dark

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b14augrana · 4 months ago

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The End Of The World

Alexia isn’t well post-breakup

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: angst, mutual breakup, yearning and heartbroken alexia, no happy ending

A/N: listen to the song for max effect! ‘right where you left me’ is another good one that fits this story. this is only a short fic, but i hope you enjoy :)

You and Alexia breaking up was for the best. She knows that.

Her career is demanding, and you just weren’t willing to pursue that lifestyle yet; it was glamorous, being the girlfriend of a professional footballer, but it also meant there were rarely any opportunities to spend quality time with her and that wasn’t the relationship you wanted. She understands that.

So why does it hurt worse than ending on bad terms? Actually, that’s a stupid question. Alexia knows why it hurts. If she had a reason to hate you, it would be easier to move on, but she cannot think of a single thing worth hating you for.

That’s what she hates the most — the lack of cruelty, toxicity, infidelity behind the breakup. There isn’t a single proper reason for her to stop yearning for you.

The first week after the breakup, she finds herself seeking out any signs of you wherever she could. It hurts, and she doesn’t have an excuse or a reason. She swore that your perfume lingered in the air, following her, taunting her. Whenever someone walks past, she notices; everyone smells like oranges, earth, and incense. Everyone smells like you.

On every street, there is something of yours. A mural you posed in front of for a photo, a flower bush you once pointed out on a walk because the budding flora stood out to you, a restaurant you introduced Alexia to without knowing it would quickly become her favourite. She sees apparitions of you in places that you would’ve been in right now, if you were still here. Still with her. Still part of her life.

Everything seems pointless and from the moment you declare the love story of her life to be over, Alexia thinks that everything should cease to exist. Why does the sun shine through the gaps in her curtains, when you aren’t laying beside her in the mornings to compliment it? Why does her heart continue to beat, when it cannot be listened to on sleepless nights, with your head on her chest?

Nobody works up the courage to ask her what’s wrong when she walks into the gym with dull under eyes and little to no energy in her movements. Alexia’s signature enthusiasm to be in the gym and improving herself is gone, and her teammates only look on with inconclusive questions as to why their captain is so… different. She watches them go on with their lives like nothing ever happened, and she’s so offended and bitter. They’re completely unaware that the end is here, at least for Alexia. The world has been at its inevitable end for longer than they know — the world ended when you stopped loving her.

Alexia isn’t one for letters, so it’s incredible that she finds herself sitting at her dining table, hunched over at an ungodly hour, scrawling words in her best handwriting onto a piece of paper.

She seals it in an envelope, running her thumb along the smooth surface for a second. She still knows your address by heart, and despite your house being much like a prison for her in terms of trying to avoid it at all costs, she finds herself navigating streets and turning corners to end up there.

Alexia passes a bookstore, and in the short moment she stands in front of it, she recalls standing in between aisles with you while you chose a book to buy. Clothing shops line the roads, and she can point out shirts in their windows that you own. A restaurant sits on the corner of the street, and she can point out the table you two had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at…

But she can point something else out — you.

You’re there, in the window, sitting at the table in the same seat you always chose. It makes her wonder if those memories were lost on you. Magazine in one hand, tea in the other. She knows it’s tea, because you hate coffee.

Alexia becomes acutely aware of the letter in her hand, and her plans have changed.

When a waitress comes up to your table with a little white envelope in hand, explaining that someone had just come into the restaurant and asked her to give it to you, you’re confused. When you unfold the letter and read it, whatever you’re feeling is inexplicable.

‘Mi querido,

I probably shouldn’t be calling you ‘mi querido’, or writing this letter in the first place, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t tell you how much I love you one more time. I cannot imagine a life where being happy and being without you are able to coexist. If I knew that my career would’ve been the end of us, I would’ve traded my first love for my forever love, in a heartbeat.

Sincerely yours…

Your head lifts and you crane to look out of the window. Streaks of blonde hair disappear down the street, further than you can see from your seat.

…Alexia.’

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zara-renata · 16 days ago

Note

Hello and good morning~ I was listening to RED by taylor swift while working and suddenly ALL I could think of was the Sylus series (and how MC thinks she was rejected). 💙❤️ Think this song fits them so well

I have been meaning to answer this ask since you sent it, but it gave me a little Scenario that I had to carry around in my head until I could figure out how to work it into a story. Your ask, in combination with a post by @leaderincrows about wanting to see Sylus collared and gasping pathetically, led to this story. I hope the result is enjoyable. Thanks so much for sending this ask, and I'm sorry it took 8 million years to answer!

Goodcat code, or how you learned to care for your catboy | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Your crimelord boyfriend disappears for a week, you make yourself sad listening to breakup songs, you learn that he got turned into a catboy, you get assigned a mission on the worst cruise ship ever, undercover shenanigans ensue. Loosely based on the Sylus memory Goodcat Code.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV MC is referred to by they/them pronouns, intended as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. Established relationship, can be read as a standalone. This story contains: profanity, activities of a sexual nature, violence, probably too much internal monologue and not enough action, too many feelings and not enough sexual activity, inappropriate use of a tail, an argument with your boyfriend, a happy ending.

You wonder if it’s because you trounced him in kitty cards the last time you played.

The silence.

For the past week, your phone has been pinging with constant notifications but none with My Sy listed as the sender. Just work, spam, Xavier asking if you want to go to the bookstore the next time you’re both free, Tara spamming you with pleas to go to some shitty club where her latest favorite indie EDM DJ is playing—why she thinks that her insistence that “He looks just like Skye, I promise!” is enough incentive for you to wade through loud, sweaty, touch-feely dancers as you can’t help constantly checking the exits, while simultaneously making sure a molly-rolling Tara doesn’t abscond to the bathroom with a mistake waiting to happen, while being subjected to mediocre beats from her artist-of-the week, is beyond you. “Skye” is gorgeous, yes, but you’d rather admire the real thing up close than squint through a fog-machine haze to look at a cheap knock-off.

Maybe Sylus’s snobbery is rubbing off on you.

Then again, Tara doesn’t know how up close you get to examine Skye on a regular basis, so perhaps you’re being unfair, because you’re in a terrible mood, because you haven’t heard from him for a week now.

Because maybe you won’t have the chance to see “Skye” up close ever again. Because all you have is a deafening silence from him, and it started the day after you wiped the floor with him at the kitty cafe playing kitty cards.

Could something so petty cause him to finally lose interest in you, the way you've feared ever since you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that Sylus may be romantically interested in you?

It’s not your fault that the longer you spend time with him, the more you have unraveled his mysteries. If he doesn’t want to be so easy to beat, he needs to try harder to be less predictable. You never would have thought, when you first met him, that you’d ever think the words “predictable” and “Sylus” in the same sentence, but the mercurial man is like clockwork when it comes to kitty cards.

He always, always offers you the chance to go first. Why on earth would you say no, and then lose the chance to play your inevitably shitty, low-value cards in the matching colored cups, just to prevent him from playing one of his inevitably high valued cards in the matching cup?

He grumbles, tries to give “helpful” advice about being patient and gambling on drawing a higher value card instead, all the while doing the exact same thing when it’s his turn and he has a shit hand. The condescending hypocrite. You stew a bit thinking about it.

And then, you’ve long since learned that the arrogant bastard is cheating while you play. He somehow marks the cards—you don’t know how. Something to do with his evol? He refuses to admit it outright, so you doubt you’ll ever know. But what you first thought was a generous habit of offering to give you two of his cards for one of yours, actually turns out to be an opportunity for him to offload his low value cards and give himself a chance to poach your higher value cards. You refuse his offers now.

And lastly, you’ve figured out that for all of Sylus’s skill, brilliant brain, and talent at strategy, the man has a few weaknesses that you are ruthlessly willing to exploit to gain the upper hand to beat him despite all of his dirty tricks.

Namely, he’s easily distracted by a few very specific things.

Your mouth being one of them.

So last week, you went first, played your shit cards in the colored cups, refused his offers to trade, and ordered a strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream to enjoy while you played.

He leaned back in his seat at the kitty cafe where he was sitting across from you, manspreading as usual, arms casually draped over the back of the booth, the picture of casual, smug confidence. The dictionary definition of winner.

“Do you really have the luxury of splitting your focus between the game and your dessert, kitten? It looks like you need all of your concentration just to keep up, let alone win this round,” he drawled, secure in his five point lead over you. It was his turn, and yet he had time to taunt you.

You just shrugged, holding your cards fanned in one hand, dipping your finger in the whipped cream with your other. You brought it to your lips, pretending to think very hard about which card you’d play next when all of them were crap, and rubbed the cream over your bottom lip.

You heard a sharp inhale from the other side of the table, but ignored it. You “absentmindedly” flicked your tongue out, gathering the cream there before swallowing and biting your lip pensively.

“It’s good,” you murmured, not taking your eyes off your cards. “Not too sweet.”

Silence. It took all of your willpower not to look up to see what his face was doing. But you heard him place a kitty in a cup, its cute little meow signaling the start of your turn.

You let your gaze flick back and forth between the board and your cards. Good. It was working. He played a low value card in a white cup instead of drawing a new card like he should have.

You put your crap sage card in the last sage-colored cup. Sylus tsked and drew a new card.

This time, you picked up one of the glazed strawberries adorning the shortcake and placed it between your lips, sucking on it gently as you “thought.”

The groan coming from across the table was so low that you almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the cafe—other players chatting, the meows of the kitties, the clink of cutlery and tableware. But you heard it, even through your tinnitus.

You played another low value card in a matching cup—the last one. Unless he had a six, this round is yours.

You finally dared to look up and find Sylus glaring at you, all while petting a beautiful, tawny colored cafe cat that had apparently settled in his lap while you were busy trying to distract him and beat his ass at this ridiculous game.

“Sy, you know the rules of the cafe—no petting the cats unless we pay extra!” You looked around furtively, forgetting the game, worried that the staff were going to get mad and kick you both out for this breach of etiquette. You pay first, then pet!

“I can’t help it if, unlike some, this particular kitty is straightforward enough to ask for pets from me,” he said pointedly. “Who am I to deny its desires?”

In response, you popped the strawberry fully into your mouth, closed your eyes, and bit down, letting out a genuine little sound of appreciation for the sweet fruit.

Suddenly there was a disgruntled mewl from across the table. You opened your eyes and saw Sylus with a death grip on the cat where he was previously petting it gently. The cat squirmed, trying to get off of his lap. He blinked and let go of the cat, which then bolted off of his lap like he had just yanked its tail—which he hadn’t, but Sylus’s grip was no joke. You would know.

He watched the cat, a rare apologetic look on his face, before turning to glare at you again. “If we get kicked out, it will be your fault,” he accused.

You just looked back at him innocently. “What on earth did I do?”

“Maybe I’ve been too soft with you, and you’ve gotten too comfortable with me—you grow more cunning by the day,” he said softly, almost like a threat, but he looked… pleased.

“Still have no idea what you’re talking about,” you hummed, taking a big forkful of the shortcake and shoving it in your mouth.

Sylus just groaned again. He lost every game the two of you played the rest of the evening.

When you parted ways with him, heading back home to sleep while he was heading to a meeting, he pulled you into his arms as you stood by your motorcycle. He breathed in your hair and sighed, and then pulled away, turning on his heel, and walking away without a backwards glance.

And that’s the last you heard from him since that night.

You sit at your kitchen table, staring glumly out into the chill fall night. Your phone lights up, but it’s just Rafayel sending a photo of a little crab brandishing a plastic spork captioned Lol littering humans suck but at least this trash is useful for this lil guy he’s got a sword now

You often wonder why both Rafayel and Sylus sometimes refer to humans as if they themselves are not also human. You text back.

You: he just needs a shield. give him a bottle cap and he can fight wanderers with me

Fried Shrimp: nope he’s my new bodyguard because you suck too and have been too busy lately to guard my body like you promised

You: you’re perfectly capable of guarding yourself you pyromaniac

Rafayel just responds with a poop emoji.

You consider his text. Rafayel may have a point for once—you have been spending every free moment that you're not working with Sylus lately.

Which is bad. You don’t want him to take over your life. You want to maintain a balanced, a healthy relationship with him, if possible. It would be so easy to let yourself be consumed by his charismatic, overwhelming presence in your life. But what happens when he disappears as quickly as he appeared?

You don’t want to think about it. But that point may have already arrived. You stare at your dark phone again.

You could… call him first. Or send a text. But you’re not to the point where you can bring yourself to contact him first. If he wants to talk to you, he isn’t shy about reaching out for your attention. He calls almost every day. To tell you that you need to expect a package. To complain about his bad luck at a poker game with business rivals. To pester you about when you’ll come visit him again. Mephisto hasn’t seen your face for two days, he’s starting to pout. The twins brought home ten different flavors of syrup for the espresso machine, look at what you’re doing to them, they’re going to get diabetes at this rate.

You don’t think you’re to the point of being able to handle being left on read by this man if you send a text first and he doesn’t answer.

It’s time to wallow. You reach for your phone, pull up your music app, and put Taylor Swift’s RED on repeat.

You’ll give it a few more days, and then you’ll put on Olivia Rodrigo. After another week, it will be Sabrina Carpenter, because you’ll probably have entered the anger stage of grief by then. After that, it will be Hozier, when you finally accept that Sylus will never be calling again and try to find the beauty in everything you’ve lost.

***

“Status report?” Sylus growls into the phone.

“Boss, I really think that you should reconsider this course of action,” Kieran’s voice is just loud enough for Sylus to be able to hear over the absolute cacophony of the closed cat cafe, which is considerable, even with his double, hypersensitive hearing due to his current… condition.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked for a status update,” Sylus hisses, and then clears his throat. He totally meant to hiss just then. His hissing has nothing to do with his current affliction.

“But I really must insist—” Kieran tries to argue, but he’s drowned out by the cat cafe’s OTTO.

“Caracal Butler! May I remind you that not only is your customer satisfaction rating in the negatives, but you are also not allowed to make personal phone calls on the kitties’ time!” The OTTO hovers menacingly in front of him.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” he responds, voice dripping with sarcasm. Even the robot should be able to discern his disdain.

“You should be,” it says, threateningly.

“Oh? And what are the kitties going to do that’s worse than what they’ve already done.” He flicks some cat hair off of his bespoke tuxedo. The fact that he’s going to have to get it de-haired and dry cleaned if he ever wants to wear it again just adds insult to injury, as he had been hoping to wear it with you to a Linkon City Symphony Orchestra’s performance soon. He had a matching outfit tailored for you at the same time he ordered this tux, so he has resigned himself to getting the damn thing cleaned when this... ordeal is over.

The OTTO jerks him out of his irritation with its nagging voice module. “It is protocol for this kitty cafe to act as a responsible caretaker for the kitties under our care. We require spaying and neutering of all kitties under this roof. You have not yet received such care.”

The threat in response to his sarcasm could not be clearer.

He narrows his eyes at the OTTO and feels his tail swish menacingly as his ears press flat to his hair.

“Come anywhere near my balls and I’ll fill this cat cafe with so many cat toys of the loud, exploding variety that there will be nothing left of either it, the cats, or you except a smoking crater.”

The OTTO flits backwards out of Sylus’s reach.

“Perhaps Caracal Butler may be allowed a limited number of private phone calls on the kitties’ time without repercussions,” it says, tone placating as it drifts quickly to the other side of the room.

“That’s what I thought,” Sylus growls again, and not because he’s been stripped of his evol and cursed with two fucking cat ears and a tail that betrays his emotions no matter how much self control he tries to exert, but because he meant to growl.

He returns his attention back to the phone as his patience wears ever thinner. “Status. Report.”

“Boss, I really must insist—” Kieran tries again, tone incredibly concerned, before being interrupted by Luke.

“Your hunter is listening to breakup songs and mopily staring at their phone every spare moment they get.”

Sylus’s ears swivel around to full attention and his tail thwacks a kitty climbing tower so hard it’s almost knocked off its base.

“Breakup songs? Why—”

“They obviously think you’ve ghosted them,” Luke continues. “Keep this up and you’re gonna lose them.”

Sylus tilts his head. Could you really believe that he’s capable of ever leaving your side before you tell him to leave and mean it? What an absolutely ridiculous notion. His tail swishes thoughtfully. He did not want you to see him like this—stripped of his power, kneeling to these demanding cats like a… well. Like a fucking catboy butler. He has his pride, after all. He was hoping that the curse would fade quickly and you’d be too busy with work and your social life to notice that he has been absent for a little while. And you hadn’t reached out to him either, during this time. He runs his gloved hand along his bottom lip before realizing that he’s been touching cats all day, makes a disgusted face, and taps his temple instead. Why hadn’t you reached out to him? His mind drifts over memories of all of your interactions with him when you are apart and he's been forced to make do with communicating to you via phone and text.

This is not the first time that it occurs to him that you have never, not once, reached out to him first. He is always the one calling you, texting you, sending you packages.

He stops, tail and ears still. He has noticed it, but he hasn't thought about it deeply. He's willing to chase you to the end of time, after all. But now, he wonders what he's missing. He is almost entirely sure that you miss him as much as he misses you when you’re apart. You always pick up the phone. You always respond to texts. As for sending packages, you've grumbled about not knowing what to gift a man who has everything, but he always reassures you that he already has everything he wants, as long as you’re there.

So why is it that you have never reached out to him first? He flicks his ears. It would be nice, if you reached out first, every once in a while. He doesn't require it. But it would be nice. He tucks that thought away for further analysis after the current problem is fixed.

Time to assess the damage, and then engage in damage control.

“What kind of breakup songs?” he asks.

“Currently listening to RED by Taylor Swift.”

Sylus considers. Taylor Swift isn’t as bad as Sabrina Carpenter, or Hozier. Once you start with Hozier, Sylus will really be worried.

“Are you gonna stop being a big scaredy-cat and contact your hunter now?” Luke demands, sounding absolutely done with his ridiculous boss and his equally ridiculous partner.

Sylus values the intel they just provided, so he lets the insubordination slide. This time.

“I will remedy the situation. You’re dismissed from hunter observation detail.”

All he hears are twinned sighs of relief and then the phone disconnecting. He stares at it. What impudent henchmen.

He turns and wades through the meandering cats to the OTTO.

“I’m leaving, but I will be back to fulfill my contract once a personal emergency has been resolved.”

The OTTO, with his previous threats clearly still fresh in its memory, meekly allows him to pass without any fuss.

He steps out into the cold winter evening, the street lights and bright advertisements of Linkon City temporarily blinding him. Normally he would just teleport along rooftops to get to you as quickly as possible in such an emergency, but with this fucking curse, he has to make his way to your home like a regular human. His lip curls in disgust, but then he schools his face into its customary blank, intimidating expression as he notices people passing by gawking at his swishing tail and his cat ears. He’s drawing enough attention to himself without looking threatening while doing it. He quickly strides to where he parked his motorcycle, jams his helmet on his head, and breaks six different traffic laws trying to get to your place as quickly as possible.

***

You’re trying to wallow, snuggled into your bedding with a tray of some sad soup heated up from a can and a chunk of stale bread, when your hunter watch pings. You flick through the new assignment. Some asshole smuggler in biologically modified wanderers code-named “Snowy Owl” apparently needs to be brought down. You slurp some soup while you try to formulate a plan of action for snaring this new target, who has in turn snared many innocent wanderers to then sell them to shady collectors with who knows what kind of intentions for them.

This is just the sort of thing that you’ve all too easily grown accustomed to discussing with Sylus, due to his spiderweb of connections through the underworld. But isn’t that part of the problem? Where before you would rely on yourself and Association resources to arrange a mission of this kind, now you’re all too comfortable relying on Sylus for help. That sort of sloppiness is unacceptable, and the gaping absence he’s left behind in the last week only serves to drive that point home. You cannot let the blade of your skills dull because of reliance on your all-too-willing-to-help boyfriend. Maybe ex-boyfriend, you think miserably.

You sigh, leaning back, turning up the music that you had previously turned down to focus on the mission details. You’re trying to drown out all thoughts of the man who you need to get out of your head, only to find yourself yelping in surprise and flinging the tray with the soup at the tall intruder who has just silently appeared at the side of your bed—who you hadn’t heard at all, as if they had entered on padded cat paws.

Only to realize halfway through the soup’s trajectory that the intruder is Sylus and he’s wearing a very fancy suit.

All the previous times you have flung tableware containing hot liquid at him, Sylus has been able to dodge the container, if not its contents, because of his evol. But this time he’s struck square in the chest by both the soup and the soup bowl. It hits one big pec with a dull thud and then crashes to your floor. He stands there, dripping soup, looking down at his dress shoes.

“The fuck, Sylus,” you breathe, not because he appeared out of nowhere in your home, again, but because you can clearly see two twitching, incredibly real-looking cat ears—tawny, fuzzy on the insides, coming to a beautiful, regal black point at the top—swiveling through his gorgeous silver hair. As your eyes travel down his long, lovely body, they catch on a flicking cat-tail with the same coloring as his ears. Something about the fur strikes you as familiar, but you can’t quite figure out why.

“Darling. Dearest to my heart. My heart, in fact, beating within the safety of my ribcage. Could you, perhaps, in the future, try to refrain from assaulting me with molten liquid when I surprise you in your home.” His tail swishes, swishes, swishes behind him, and you’re utterly mesmerized. It takes a moment for it to sink in that Sylus is actually here. You want to scramble off the bed, climb him like a tree, the dripping soup be damned, and just hug him. Now that you’re seeing him in person for the first time in a whole week, you are able to actually feel how much you’ve missed him, instead of suppressing, repressing, pretending that the unending ache didn’t hurt so terribly much.

You’re about to launch yourself at him when you remember why you had been feeling this way all week. Where the hell has he been? And why does he have cat attributes now? Well, more than he already had to begin with, you snicker internally, until you remember that you’re still feeling heartbroken and wary of why he has shown up now after ghosting you all week. Are you being melodramatic? Are you being immature? Are you being unfair? Could you have called him to check in, when he didn’t? You eye his ears. His tail. Yes to all of the above, but it doesn’t change how you simply can’t bring yourself to go to him, and instead draw further back, away from him, on the bed.

He apparently doesn’t miss your movement, as his ears swivel forward as you move, and then flatten onto the top of his head as he assumes an aggressively bored expression on his face.

“Not going to answer me?” he growls. Actually growls, like a cat warning a naughty kitten.

You can’t help yourself. “Who’s actually the kitten now, Sylus?”

His tail flicks violently behind him.

“Careful, kitten. Perhaps you’ve forgotten in the past week that this cat has claws,” he says, low and menacing.

You just laugh at him.

“Mmmm, yes, your oh-so-so sharp claws, which are now covered in soup. What are you doing here?”

He narrows his eyes at your unimpressed reaction to his empty threat. “Do I need a reason to visit my heart?”

The more he acts like nothing has changed, as if he didn’t just disappear on you without a word for a week, the more wound up and jittery you feel. “What heart?” you ask, a little petulantly.

He lifts an eyebrow. “You know the answer to that question.”

“Do I? Not a very important organ, if you can survive a week without it,” you grumble.

His ears swivel forward, and his tail starts to… wag, but his facial expression doesn’t change.

You immediately regret revealing so much.

“Ah,” is all he says, but he sounds pleased.

You look away, out the window. But all you see is Sylus in the reflection, and the dark night beyond. You’ve said too much already.

“I’m going to change. And then we’re going to talk,” he announces, and it sounds like a purr.

You feel silly as you realize that Taylor Swift is still warbling loudly in your bedroom about loving him but losing him so suddenly, trying to stop when you’re already in free fall, loving him being like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all. You flick off the music.

He’s here again. He’s here again, but for how long?

You hear water running in the bathroom as you go to the kitchen to grab some towels and return to your bedroom to mop up the soup, tidying your embarrassingly messy flat along the way. You return to bed and wait for him.

After a few minutes, Sylus emerges from your bathroom clad in one of the soft sweaters and silk sleep pants he keeps in your closet. You can’t help yourself again—you stare at where his tail emerges from under the sweater. The flexible waistband of the pants must have been pushed down a little over his ass to accommodate where his tail emerges.

He strides to the bed and pauses next to it. “May I?” he asks, tail flicking, ears twitching.

You nod, and he prowls onto your duvet on his hands and knees. Before settling next to you, however, he turns in a circle, once, twice, three times, before sinking down and pulling you into his arms, your back to his chest, curling around you. You let him, feeling the flood of safety and sense of wholeness that you always get when Sylus is touching you. You sigh. All of your worries seem so trite now. Why didn’t you just text him first? Why did you wait for him to reach out first? Why are you like this?

As if reading your mind, Sylus says, “Were you worried this week?”

His arms are wrapped tightly around you, he has one leg shoved between yours, and you feel his tail curl around your bare ankle. Its fur is so, so soft.

You nod.

“Why didn’t you call me, then?”

You don’t want to tell him how afraid you are of him finally not answering. Of him finally losing interest. It sounds so pathetic to even think it, let alone say it out loud.

“I’m sorry about your fancy suit,” is all you can say.

He hums, and his tail wraps tighter around your ankle. “It’s a tuxedo. And it can be cleaned.”

“Fancy suit, tuxedo—pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric,” you tease him.

“My heart is a heathen,” he sighs into your hair. “It’s a tux that matches pretentious, overpriced pieces of fabric that happen to fit your body perfectly.”

“What use do I have for such fabric?” you ask, turning in his arms, lulled by his familiar humor, his still-unexplained tail wrapped around your ankle. You lie on your side, facing him. His ears twitch in your direction.

“There's a ticket to the Linkon City Symphony Orchestra with your name on it. You should note the date in your agenda.”

“What if my agenda is already full? I haven’t heard from you for a week.”

His ears flatten in his hair. “You’d replace me in just a week?”

You hum a little, reaching up to run a finger along one cat ear. He makes a purring sound, deep in his throat, closing his lovely eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replace you, even if I wanted to,” you murmur, lost in his presence again, feeling safe now that he’s here again. But the week was long, and you really were afraid he’d left for good, no matter how silly it seems now. “But maybe I thought you had replaced me,” you admit, marveling at how soft the ear is, how good it feels to caress it between your forefinger and thumb. You want to kiss it, rub your face all over it. You lift your other hand and fondle his other ear.

His tail loosens on your ankle and begins drifting up your bare leg, the fur caressing your skin so gently, until it curls around one thigh and squeezes between your legs, right below where your thighs meet. You shiver at the sensation and forget to pet him for a moment.

“You should have more faith in your pet. Sometimes cats have business in the neighborhood that keeps them away for a few days, but they always come back home.”

“Did your ‘business’ have anything to do with your new accessories?”

He leans, shoving his head against your hands to remind you to keep petting him, and his tail drifts up, up, until it’s nudging between your legs. You gasp softly at the delicious pressure, but have enough presence of mind to keep massaging his ears.

“Yes,” he murmurs, a little breathless. “Like that.” You continue, and he continues teasing you with his tail. It’s not enough. You want more of him.

“How did you get the cat ears and tail, Sy?” you ask, trying to remain focused.

The tail nudges you a little harder—you can’t help the jerk of your hips which sends you rocking into him, where you’re met with his hard dick under the fabric of his pants. The sensation of his hardness against your front and his tail at your back is almost overwhelming.

“Your fault, kitten. You and that fucking strawberry last week,” he growls again, flexes his hips into yours. “That cat I was petting was unhappy with how roughly I handled it while you cockteased me with your cake,” he gasps as you grind back into him, as you widen your legs to let his tail do whatever it wants, restricted only by your sleep shorts. “The evol kitties cursed me for petting without paying, and for roughing up the cat.”

You can’t help it. Even through the pleasure, you burst out laughing.

“They cursed you with a tail and ears, and that’s why you avoided me all week?” It’s absurd. All that worry, thinking that he’d finally grown bored with you, because he was too, what? Embarrassed? to reveal that he’d been given such adorable attributes. “You mean we could have been doing this all week?” you ask, incredulous, as his tail rubs against your sensitive spots through your shorts, as it nudges you again and again, as Sylus loudly purrs from the pleasure you rubbing his ears and the friction against his big dick is bringing him.

He opens his eyes, half-lidded, lips parted, panting. One of his hands drifts down your back and takes a handful of your ass, pulling, bringing your hips against his cock again. He grinds you on himself, leans forward, licks a swipe up the side of your face.

“The biological markers that were affected by the ears and tail are tied to my own evol—I don’t have my ability to manipulate energy so long as this curse lasts,” he says, breath hitching with the movement of your bodies.

You lean forward, press your forehead against his, share his panting breath. “What does that have to do with not calling me?” you manage, even though all you want to do is rip his pants down, shove down your own shorts, and impale yourself on him.

“Didn’t want you to see me as weak,” he admits. He opens his eyes, looks into yours. He then kisses you with his full lips, soft, slow, in contrast to his tail still nudging you through your shorts at a steady rhythm, teasing, teasing, teasing.

You pull back from his kiss, catch his gaze again. “Even without your evol, you’re still one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” you whisper.

He pauses, his ears flattening again. “Just ‘one of’ the strongest people you've met?”

You laugh. “I know a lot of strong people Sy. And your new bits are cute, just like you.” His tail firmly nudges you again, once, as if to warn you. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you tease him.

He just groans and kisses you again, his tongue slipping between your lips, his big hands moving to shove down your shorts. “I don’t make threats,” he says, low, smug. “I make promises.”

You roll your eyes, but neither of you talk any more after that.

***

Much, much later, after you’re thoroughly fucked out, muscles pleasantly sore, as Sylus purrs beside you in sleep, one arm flung over you, you lie awake thinking about his admission of worrying about being 'weak' in front of you. Of the vulnerability in his questions—why didn’t you call him if you were worried? Would you really replace him within a week?

You’ve been so wrapped up in your own insecurities, so busy trying to protect yourself from what you think is the inevitable pain of being abandoned, that you’ve never stopped to consider what Sylus may worry about. What his insecurities may be. He has always seemed so larger than life to you, from the very beginning. Invincible. Solitary and strong. But as you’ve gotten to know him, you’ve also had glimpses of his own tender heart, the same tender heart he warns you about having—a liability in his vicious world. The care he shows the twins, who he insists are just his henchmen but clearly love him like family. His meticulous maintenance of Mephisto, whenever the bird needs parts switched out, cleaning, or upgrades. His habit of masking his true feelings by maintaining a look of boredom, as if revealing such feelings is a vulnerability that even those closest to him could exploit. Even his tendency to cheat at kitty cards—his luck is so bad, and he works so hard to compensate for it in the best way that his brutal life has taught him. In the end, Sylus is just a person, like anyone else. Complicated. Layered. Strong and vulnerable, cruel and kind. You’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about him as something you crave, something you adore, as well as something you fear, a threat to your heart. Not always as just a person, with feelings of his own.

Feelings that include feelings for you, specifically. He has never hidden his care for you, not since those first days of knowing him. Even if he looks indifferent, the words coming out of his mouth are always achingly straightforward, and sweet in a way that sounds sarcastic but you have learned is actually simply the unvarnished truth. His actions—his gifts, his texting, calling, physical clinginess when you’re with him—in the quiet dark, with Sylus’s soft snores next to you, his cat ears twitching even in sleep, you realize how utterly unfair you’ve been to him. How one-sided this relationship has been up until now in a lot of ways.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to show him how much you care about him too. How safe he is with you, just as he makes you feel safe whenever you’re together. You recognize that you need to do some work on yourself. That it’s not normal to go through life terrified of being abandoned. That the past does not predict the future. You can’t spend the rest of your relationship with Sylus, no matter how long or short it lasts, punishing him for the pain others have caused you.

You roll over in the dark and pepper his face with soft kisses, each one a silent apology for not calling him this week, when he probably needed to be reassured that you still care for the version of him with ears and a tail and stripped of his god-like abilities. How worried must he still be, moving through the world without such abilities, without his customary armor against a hostile world that wants him caged or dead?

As you lean over him, trailing your lips along his skin, his arms snake around you and pull you closer.

“Tell me what I did to deserve this, so I can do it again,” he says, voice raspy from sleep. His tail wraps around your waist.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you whisper between kisses.

“A hunter’s trade secret?” You can hear his smile in the dark.

“A lover’s inability to properly articulate that all you have to do is continue being you.”

His tail tightens around you, and its end wildly thwacks your back. “That sounded pretty articulate to me. Your words are honeyed—is there a catch?”

You kiss him on his soft lips. His hands run along your hair, down your back.

“Only one way to find out,” you tease.

“I see you’re done pouting. Do I get any other rewards for just being me?” he asks, sly.

“Only one way to find out,” you repeat, nudging his nose with yours.

“Oh, I like surprises.”

“I know,” you say, because you do know that. You know so much about this man already.

He pauses, catches your gaze. “Keep it a secret, okay?”

Yet again, he’s showing you his weakness. Reminding you that he’s taking a risk by being here with you at all, just like you are risking your heart, and everything else, by being here with him. “Your secrets are safe with me, Sy.”

He holds you tighter in response, and you fall asleep in his arms. You don’t dream about anything at all.

***

In the morning, after you’ve made him coffee, after you’ve eaten breakfast and you’ve lounged on the couch with him, watching something stupid on tv while he browses online auctions, you tell him about your Snowy Owl mission. He’s heard of this person, but they’re not colleagues or rivals, moving in different circles. But he knows where to locate them, and you form a plan, inspired by Snowy Owl’s interest in modified wanderers and humans, and Sylus’s twitching ears.

“You want me to act as your catboy butler.” He says it flatly. “Boring.”

You nod. “And I’ll be your owner, willing to sell you to the highest bidder.”

His ears flatten against his hair, despite his bored expression, and his tail whips back and forth, back and forth, slowly. He really hates the idea.

“Do you have a better plan?” you ask.

“Better than you selling me off to someone else? I can think of a few. A carefully placed bomb on the cruise ship, for one.” At your look of discomfort, he continues. “You don’t even have to come. Just check off the mission as accomplished on your little Association to-do list.”

You scowl at him. “I’m supposed to bring Snowy Owl in, not assassinate them.”

“Boring,” he repeats.

“I’m not actually selling you to anyone, Sy. I just need a small distraction, much smaller than a bomb,” you cut him off as he opens his mouth. “While I plant a tracking device with them, once we pinpoint who they are.”

He leans over, rubs his cheek against yours. “What’s my reward for considering this utterly boring plan?” He drags your hand to the base of his tail.

You take the hint, grasping his tail firmly, and he groans. You pull a little, and he lets you, rolling onto his stomach on the couch. You straddle the back of his big, meaty thighs and begin palming his tail, starting at the base where it meets the skin of his lower back, circling your thumb and forefinger around it even though it’s thick enough that your fingers don’t meet. You pull, and pet, over and over again, and his purrs are so loud they start to vibrate the couch.

“Say yes,” you demand. “Put that tux and your new parts to good use before the concert.”

“Fine,” he gasps, as his hips jerk a little, pressing himself into the couch.

“Excellent!” You spring to your feet, heading to the shower. There’s not a moment to waste if you’re going to get this mission over with before his tail and ears disappear.

“Stingy!” he yowls. Literally yowls, like a big tomcat thwarted in his attempt at mating by a mean owner yanking him into the house from the alley where his would-be mate was waiting.

“Consider that the down payment. Upon delivery of your promise, you’ll get the rest,” you say in a sing-song voice, just to further annoy him.

“I want double!” he yowls again, but anything else he might be whining about is cut off when you let the bathroom door close behind you.

***

Sylus has been impeccable for the duration of your agreed-upon mission. Poised, elegant, obedient. He has tolerated you treating him like an object to be admired and dismissed on a whim, even when people approached you not just to express interest in your catboy butler up for bidding, but also when they showed interest in getting to know the mysterious owner of said catboy butler more intimately.

The only indication that he was perhaps not entirely pleased with his code name was a flick of his cat ears and one hard thwack of his tail against the rail of the cruise ship when you first said, “Please fetch me more of the strata, Mister Whiskers,” in front of the other guests on the dining deck.

Furthermore, he only tried to attack and eat one person’s pet parrot, and he dropped the seagulls he kept catching at each ordered “Drop it, Mister Whiskers!” from you every time.

All in all, you think that you’re having a harder time than he is. High tea is over, seagulls have been caught and released, and you’ve already collected a number of business cards and varying degrees of subtle invitations to further discuss your catboy butler. You’ve navigated each diplomatically, and are rather proud of yourself, but your own patience is wearing thin as you stand at a luxurious bar in a small lounge on one of the upper decks of the cruise ship. The floor to ceiling windows give a lovely view of the blood-red sunset over the water—it reminds you of Sylus’s eyes. The evening, and therefore the black market trading, is about to begin in earnest. You’re waiting for a mocktail—you’re on the job, and you are a professional after all—when yet another person sidles up to you. Sylus, who has been standing at a respectable distance from you at relaxed attention, hands crossed behind his back, looking coolly over the people scattered at elegant standing tables, ears swiveling at constant alert, looks toward the newcomer, but he makes no move to come closer to you. It occurs to you that one of the reasons you are feeling increasingly off-kilter is that you are so used to Sylus touching you, draping himself over you, maintaining at least a sliver of contact at all times, that this respectful distance makes you feel like he’s standing on the other side of a great canyon.

You turn to the person who is trying to join you at the bar. He’s handsome. Tall, muscular. Dressed nicely, with subtle style. Nothing like your boyfriend’s flashy jeweled necklaces and bold colors. His blue eyes are startling in contrast to his black hair.

“Hi,” he says, smiling a little ruefully, like he wanted to open with something better, but this is all he could think of. He knows that he’s handsome and can skate by on the bare minimum.

You smile faintly back at him, despite wishing Sylus would come closer. “Hi,” you say. You’re not going to do all the work, dammit. This guy wants something from you, not the other way around.

“You’ve caused quite a stir tonight with your… companion,” he says, dark eyebrows lifting, gaze darting to Sylus and back to you again. “It’s made for more entertainment than usual on nights like these.”

You lift an eyebrow in response. “Oh? How so?”

“Watching the sharks circling and getting into tussles about who will ultimately have your pet.”

Your stomach twists at hearing someone other than Sylus calling him a pet. He’s not your pet. He’s your partner. He’s a whole person—a complicated, vicious, funny, cruel, gentle man. You suddenly hate the appraising look this asshole is giving him. But you’re a professional, damn it. You smile wider, going for seductive, amused, haughty.

“No need to tussle,” you tilt your head. “It’s simple. Offer the highest bid, and congratulations, you’re the owner of a new, obedient, exotic pet.”

The fuckhead eyeing Sylus chuckles heartily, as if what you said isn’t disgusting but the height of rich-asshole humor.

“I like the idea of owning the obedience of such a big, powerful creature. Is he willing to do anything you ask?”

The way his gaze keeps flicking to Sylus, as if he can’t help himself, makes you want to remove his eyes with one of your knives and wear them as a warning to anyone else who dares look at Sylus with such depraved, cruel desire.

“Place the winning bid and maybe you’ll find out,” you say coyly, somehow controlling your homicidal urges. Barely.

“Something to consider.” He shakes his head, as if trying to break the spell Sylus seems to have over him. “In any case, after a while, all these events start blurring together. May I buy you a drink, to thank you for dumping new blood in the water?”

This guy is the pinnacle of rich guy ennui. He probably would enjoy dog fights or hunting other people for sport, anything to break through his privileged, seen-it-all, can-buy-it-all numbness. Despite sharing the same status of filthy rich elite, this piece of shit is everything that Sylus isn’t. You want to hunt him for sport. Your nerves are fraying, and it’s getting harder and harder to maintain your composure.

“Shame, I just ordered a drink.”

He leans closer, invades your space.

“Why not indulge? You can have two drinks. And after, perhaps you’d like to show me just what your cat can do… a sort of preview, if you will.” He leans even closer, tilts his head as if a new thought has just occurred to him. “Is there perhaps a possibility of bidding for the pair, instead of just the butler?”

You realize that he’s propositioning you as well as your catboy butler, but the fury you feel at the idea of using Sylus for this fuckhead’s viewing pleasure overrides even your indignation at the insinuation that you, too, are for sale.

Suddenly Sylus’s warmth is at your back and the effect is immediate. Your murderous rage settles inside of you. You turn to him, lift an eyebrow like the imperious owner you’re supposed to be, slightly irritated at your servant’s interruption of… whatever this asshole at the bar thinks he’s getting away with. “Speak,” you command, imitating the most imperious man you know. Sylus, as he has done the entire duration of your appearance in public on this ship, does not react at all to your obvious inside joke.

“My owner,” he purrs deferentially, dipping his head. “You asked that I escort you back to your cabin at 21:00 in order to properly prepare for the bidding.”

The asshole’s gaze drifts from Sylus to you and back again. “A possessive cat, I see. What will he do, when his owner abandons him to another?”

You shrug, as if you don’t want to pull this guy’s tongue out of his mouth and garrotte him with it.

“As I said, buy him and find out,” you breathe through the nausea, trying desperately to stay in character—you are the same ilk as this guy, here to pawn your broken, loyal manservant onto anyone who can afford him. “But he’s right. Thank you for the interesting … offer, but the auction is about to begin. Tick tock, tick tock.”

“You’re a very good salesperson,” he smirks, as if pleased with the idea of depriving Sylus of his beloved owner and seeing if he can bend him to his will. You can’t see why you ever thought him handsome at all. “A raincheck, then, on the drink, and perhaps your own company.”

You just lower your head slightly, barely suppressing the urge to put this man on the ground and punch his smug smile until he is permanently unrecognizable, and the intensity of your renewed desire to hurt him for daring to even look at Sylus has you reaching for Sylus’s arm for support. He tucks your hand into his elbow and leads you out of the lounge.

When you finally reach your first class cabin on this pretentious floating black market, however, you see the strain that his flawless behavior has placed on your miscreant boyfriend.

As soon as the door closes behind you, he growls, deep in his throat, and spins, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you more roughly than usual through the elegant sitting room—the place looks like the interior designer was trying to recreate the staterooms of the Titanic—to the bedroom. Without letting go of your wrist, he yanks the scarlet velvet duvet and crisp white sheets from the bed and dumps them on the floor. The ocean glitters under the bright moonlight outside the bedroom’s window, the salt scent strong. The bed successfully stripped, Sylus now tries to jerk you onto the mattress, but you dig your heels into the plush carpet, feet dragging because despite your own strength, you can’t match his. You jerk your wrist from his grasp and whirl on him. You are willing to die for him, but you aren’t going to let him manhandle you like this.

“What is wrong with you?” you demand, rubbing your wrist.

“If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed.” His voice is still calm, but his tail flicks angrily.

“If you still had your evol, I hope you wouldn’t use it on me when you’re this upset,” you glare at him.

He doesn’t respond, just begins to pace. Around the bed. Back into the sitting room. He veers into the bathroom and then returns to the bedroom. The anxious energy he’s giving off is palpable—you’ve never seen him this agitated in the entire time you’ve known him.

The longer he’s quiet, the more concerned you become.

“Sylus?” you ask, softly. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m Sylus again? Not Mister fucking Whiskers?”

You stare at him. Your boyfriend, who is always up for teasing pet names and playful banter, is looking at you like he’s genuinely angry about the silly code name.

“Sylus—?”

His tail is thrashing back and forth as he continues to pace, ears flat against his hair. “Are you sure you’re interested in hearing how Mister Whiskers is doing now? You didn’t seem to be too interested when you were being fawned over by your suitors.”

You stare at him. At the tension he’s holding in his body, the wild movements of his tail.

“Sylus—”

“This was a boring plan to begin with, and now it’s even less interesting. You already have a mountain of gifts from my bidders—leave. Go through them to see if Snowy Owl has taken the bait so we can get this charade over with,” he snaps, effectively dismissing you. He sits on the side of the bed and puts his head in his hands.

With each harsh word, you feel your insides folding in on themselves. He hasn’t spoken to you like this since he held you captive when you first met. He promised he’d never treat you like that again, but you realize he never promised to never speak to you like that again.

Normally, how he’s talking to you—if it were any other person, you’d be out the door. Gone, ghosted. You speak to yourself cruelly enough every day in your own head, you don’t need that shit from other people. You’re even more shocked that it’s coming from Sylus, of all people. The Sylus who has cared for you so patiently, through all the time you’ve been together since that first auction. Who kills with his bare hands, but touches you with those same hands as if you’re made of glass. Until tonight.

You are tempted to run as the betrayal, confusion, and fear of the inevitable end course through you. To just stuff the gifts waiting for you on the sitting room’s coffee table into one of the big duffels you brought, move to another room, and wing the rest of the operation without Sylus. You can pose as a fucking waiter once you figure out Snowy Owl’s identity. You don’t need him for this mission. And you don’t need him in your fucking life, if this is his true self.

As you’re almost to the door leading to the hallway, reaching for the handle, you suddenly remember your promise to yourself, just a few nights ago—the night Sylus came to your place and you learned why he had gone silent for a whole week.

Your resolution that you wouldn’t give in to your fear at his expense anymore, that you would show him you care for him, just as he has done so for you through all of your time together. Even when he witnessed your worst moments, he did not walk away from you. He stayed, even as you pushed him away.

You think about how he was afraid for you to see him stripped of his power, as if you’d ever think him weak, and think less of him for something outside of his control. If I still had my evol, you’d be on the bed. How unnerving must it be for him to be in this shark’s tank without his ability to protect himself beyond his own body? It suddenly occurs to you that if he gets injured while his power is suppressed, he won’t heal like he normally does. The idea that he could get seriously hurt while here, helping you on a mission that has nothing to do with him, hurts a hundred times worse than the words he just snapped at you.

Weren’t you just furious with that fuck from the cocktail lounge for talking about Sylus like he was an object, instead of a person? Sylus is a human being. He’s not a god. He’s not perfect. He’s just a complicated man, a complicated man who hurt you with his harsh words tonight, but who has steadfastly shown how much he cares for you in the best way he knows how. Who could be expected to act normally, to be their best self, if one were to find oneself fundamentally changed, stripped of a lifetime of skill and ability, experiencing strange new urges, and to top it all off, thrown into a dangerous situation?

You turn and walk back through the sitting room, to the bedroom where he’s sitting, head still in his hands. You stand in front of him.

“Sylus.”

He doesn’t respond. You reach out, gently grip his chin, and lift his face.

He lets you, docile. His cat ears are drooping.

“Tell me,” you order.

He refuses to look at you. His tail swishes petulantly behind him.

“Tell. Me.” You tighten your hold on his jaw.

His eyes flick to yours, but he keeps his face turned away. “Caracal’s hate water.”

You gaze into his beautiful eyes, fire-lit gems. “And a caracal is the type of cat that you’ve partly mutated into?”

He nods, just a little movement of his head.

“And I brought you onto a boat, surrounded by water.”

He finally turns his head to face you, gazing at you but not responding.

“What else?” You relax your hold on his jaw, moving your palm to cup his cheek and bring up your other hand into his hair, running your fingers through the soft strands.

“Each person who shook your hand, who handed you their business card, who leaned too close to you… their stench is all over you.”

You run your fingers through his hair until you reach one of his cat ears and gently begin to rub it. He closes his eyes and he leans into your touch.

“What else?”

“If this plan goes sideways, I won’t be able to protect you.”

With each admission, his shoulders relax. His face softens. But there’s still something bothering him. You search his beautiful face. His tail flicks, flicks, flicks.

“What else, Sy?” You lean down, rest your cheek against his soft hair. His ears are velvet against your skin.

He reaches out and clasps the backs of your thighs to pull you closer to him and rests his forehead against your chest. “Even if it’s just for the mission, are you really okay with letting someone else have me?”

It takes you a moment, but when you realize what he’s saying, you’re floored.

Sylus has spent the whole evening watching you laugh off multiple peoples’ offers to take over ownership of your catboy butler. He watched you tell that little bitch at the bar, more than once, to buy Sylus to find out how obedient he is, how he’ll react to being parted from his beloved owner. Each time, you responded in character, like the idea didn’t bother you at all. Because that’s what the mission required.

You realize that this entire ordeal has made him insecure. He wants you to be jealous. He wants you to be possessive of him. The thought never once crossed your mind that he would be bothered by the cover you planned for this mission. He is always so self-assured, only hinting at flashes of jealousy in playful, dismissive terms. And yet he doesn’t want you to be okay with the idea of him being possessed by another, no matter how briefly, no matter how falsely.

You continue to pet him as you let everything he just admitted sink in. The water, other peoples’ scents on your body, his lack of power at the moment, your lack of jealousy at the mere idea that another would have him.

After all the times Sylus has comforted you, cared for you, solved problems for you, it’s now your turn to do the same for him.

You drop your hands and he looks back up at you with such raw longing that you almost can’t step away. But you must.

“Would you like to abort the mission?”

He looks at you in confusion. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is your job.”

You smile down at him helplessly. “Don’t you realize by now that you’re more important to me than my job?”

He sucks in a breath.

“How else could I be with the most wanted man on the planet?”

“The only reason I have been able to repress my instincts through this whole shitshow is reminding myself how important this mission is to you,” he breathes, closing his eyes.

“Your instincts?”

“You have no idea,” he says through clenched teeth. His tail is violently flicking again. You can’t bear to see him so distressed.

“Yes or no. Forget what you think I want. If it’s too much, we leave right now.”

Eyes still closed, ears still flattened to his head, he shakes his head no.

“Okay.” You turn, but he reaches out and grabs your wrist to stop you leaving. You put your hand over his. “Since I can’t remove the ship from the water, I’m just closing the window and the curtains so you don’t have to see it.”

He reluctantly releases your wrist. You do as you promised, and when you’re done you return to stand between his legs.

“What do you need to do about how I smell?”

You don’t have to repeat yourself. He grasps your wrist again, pulling your closer. He grabs the hem of your outfit and pulls, tugging it over your head, lifting your legs one by one to tear off your shoes, tossing everything into the farthest corner of the room, until you’re standing in front of him in your underwear. He then pulls you down onto the bed with him, rolling you under him. He presses his face into your neck and rubs, rubs, his tail wagging behind him, his ears brushing against your skin again, their softness making you want to grab them and pull, pull, the cuteness aggression difficult to contain. You satisfy yourself by running your hands through his hair, gripping slightly, tugging, releasing.

As he rubs his cheeks all over you, he pauses to lick your skin, runs his hands along your shoulders, your arms, your waist.

After a long time, his manic movements slow and he inhales deeply. “You have no idea how hard it was to resist the urge to piss on your shoes while you were talking to that bastard in the cocktail lounge.”

You freeze. “Piss… on my shoes?”

“Didn’t you know? Cats urinate to mark their territory,” he licks your skin again, purrs. “And you’re my territory, sweetheart.”

You don’t even know how to feel about his admission. “Well… I might be willing to die for you, but I draw the line at letting you pee on me. So thank you, for not giving in to your caracal urges.”

He pauses, lifts his head. “Don’t fucking say you’ll die, ever again,” he growls. “I forbid it.”

You laugh, a little breathlessly. You decide it’s not a good time to point out that you will, in fact, someday die. Probably sooner than the average human, with your job. So you just say “Okay.”

He looks mollified and his tail begins to swish playfully again. “So that’s a no on watersports, in the future?”

You scowl at him. “Just try to piss on me and see what happens.”

“That sounds like a challenge. And you know that’s like catnip to this big cat. Are you sure you aren’t actually interested in golden showers?”

All you can do is laugh, and pull him down to you, and kiss him so he’ll shut the fuck up about peeing on you.

After a few minutes of mauling him, you groan and pull away.

“If we don’t want this entire thing to be a waste, we need to check the contacts we made today and finish the mission before the auction is over.”

He rests his head against your shoulder. “I know, but I don’t want to get off you. No one can hurt you as long as you’re under me,” he grumbles.

You stare at the ceiling and run your hands through his hair again, fondling his cat ears. “I survived before I met you, because I’m a fucking badass. I’m strong enough for the both of us, especially for a covert mission like this. We go through the business cards and gifts, pinpoint Snowy Owl’s room, you distract them for ten minutes while I plant surveillance, we get the fuck out before the auction’s over.”

“You and I both know how quickly plans get fucked,” he murmurs into your skin.

“And you and I both know that I am skilled enough to unfuck it. And with you here, even without your evol, it’s going to be okay.”

His tail lifts, curls up your leg.

“Fine.” He rolls off of you reluctantly, and you immediately miss his weight. “But the reward for going along with your plan is now tripled.”

“You can have anything you want, when this is over,” you promise, sliding off the bed and gathering your clothes from the floor.

“Even a golden shower?”

You throw your shoe at him. He just catches it and laughs, relaxed again.

After you’re dressed, the two of you tear into the gifts people sent hoping to gain your favor and therefore an advantage in the auction for your catboy butler. Sylus, the spoiled creature that he is, tosses multiple priceless trinkets aside like they’re trash, complaining about being bored out of his mind. However, he bats at a feathered butt plug before realizing what he’s doing and then tosses it as well. The only other thing he expresses even a passing interest in is a little spray can with DOCTOR SLEEPYTIME printed on the side, with the caption reading, “A stalker’s new best friend! Never worry about your target waking up too early again! Ten fewer side effects than chloroform!” You squint at it. The legal disclaimers are a solid block of text underneath the caption. Apparently, one of the side effects that it still shares with chloroform is death. You don’t comment when you see Sylus slip it into the breast pocket of his tux, not even wanting to know what he has planned for it. Finally, you open a small box and realize that the weird little thing inside matches the description the Association provided you of Snowy Owl’s calling card.

“Got you,” you whisper triumphantly, pawing through the packaging to figure out which room it came from.

Sylus stands, prepared to play his part in this little ruse, but you stop him before he opens the door. “Wait a second,” you say, running to the bedroom, throwing open your luggage in the cabin’s closet, and pulling out what you had hastily prepared in anticipation of this mission.

You return to Sylus with the item hidden behind your back.

“You asked if I’m really okay with the idea of sending you to someone else.”

He just watches you in silence, ears twitching in curiosity, tail swishing behind him.

“Of course I’m not. You don’t know how badly I wanted to slit that fucker’s throat who talked about you like you’re not even a person. I feel sick at the idea of anyone else looking at you with anything less than respect and admiration, let alone as some kind of object to be owned. I can’t even stand the thought that I own you. You are wholly your own person, and I’m just happy that you want me by your side, and allow me to adore you.”

His tail swishes faster the longer you speak, but stills at your last sentence. “But you do own me. Body and soul.”

You swallow through the thickness in your throat. You’re not going to cry at his absurd, devoted answer.

“Then perhaps you will do me the honor of wearing this while we’re apart.” You show him the soft black leather collar. “It can only be placed on you, and taken off you, by a person whose pheromones match those of your owner. Your true owner.”

“So this was your trump card,” he murmurs, tail thwacking against the door so hard that the door vibrates.

You shrug. “You don’t have to wear it.”

He flattens his ears against his head. “Nonsense. Put it on me,” he commands imperiously.

You try to hide your smile, but probably fail. “In that case, I hope it will remind you that I am definitely not okay with sending you to someone else. But none of this is real, and when we’re off this boat, I’m never going to ask you to do something like this again.”

He reaches out and wraps his hand around your wrist. “How many times must we go over this? You can ask anything of me.”

“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to.”

Without waiting for his answer, you unclasp the collar and lift onto your tiptoes to thread it around his neck. He growls softly, in annoyance or exasperation, and sinks to his knees in front of you.

As always when Sylus kneels before you, you’re overcome with a sense of wrongness. But he seems to want to give this to you, to drive home the point that anything he has is yours for the taking. You can’t find it in yourself to refuse him by insisting that you could have reached his neck just fine without him having to kneel.

You lay the collar against his neck, thread the end through the buckle, and tighten it. His eyes are half-lidded, the glow of his irises spilling from between his eyelashes. He seems to be enjoying this so much that you tighten it just a little bit beyond what is necessary, just to see his reaction. He lets out a pathetic little gasp, and you loosen it, worried you’ve hurt him. But his chest expands and his ears droop, almost as if he’s disappointed. So you tighten it again. “Yes,” he breathes.

You stand there, with this gorgeous, half-feral man at your feet, fingering the pendant of the collar. You couldn’t afford the platinum that you think Sylus deserves, so silver had to do. But you did splurge a little to have your initials engraved on the inner side of the pendant, so that it’s pressed against his skin where no one else can see it. Your little secret against his pulse.

“We need to get moving, Sy,” you whisper, regretfully.

He rises gracefully to his feet.

“If you want it taken off, just ask.”

He gives you a disdainful look, his only response a tsking sound on his tongue. He leans down, kisses you, once, hard, and then straightens. He turns, throws open the door, and disappears down the hallway.

The rest of the mission goes off without a hitch. When you arrive at Snowy Owl’s door, you pick the lock easily, slip into the empty room, leave a variety of tracking devices in their possessions, and slip out again unseen.

You return to your room, prepared to wait for Sylus, trying to suppress the worry that he’ll have to put up with yet another handsy asshole all because he doesn't want to jeopardize your mission.

However, when you open the door, you find your big, beautiful cat already lounging on one of the sitting room’s ornate love seats, examining his nails and humming leisurely.

At his feet is the asshole from the cocktail lounge, bound, gagged, and clearly roughed up, his bloody nose dripping into the fabric of his mouth gag.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you ask.

Sylus rolls his head to look at you, lovely eyes glowing in the light of the tiffany lamps on the tables on either side of the love seat.

“I brought a gift for my owner,” he says, ears twitching between you and the asshole who started to struggle at your entrance, making little pleading whimpering noises. “I could tell how much you hated this waste of oxygen the whole time you had to endure his attention at the bar.”

“A… gift?” you repeat.

“You have no idea the self control it took to suppress the instinct to bring him to you as a corpse, as nature intended, when I was done playing with him. But I assumed that would make my owner mad,” he says languidly, but his tail is flicking in agitation.

“Okay,” you draw out the word, trying to process this… gift. “And Snowy Owl?”

“Passed out in a janitor’s closet in the ship’s casino,” he shrugs. “Doctor Sleepytime is true to its claims. A great improvement over chloroform,” he drawls. “I’ll have to leave a good review on their website.”

Relief floods through you. You’re done. The mission is almost complete. All that’s left is to get the fuck off this floating cesspool.

“Thank you,” you murmur. But you’re still left with the problem of what to do with Sylus’s ‘gift.’ “But Sy, what the fuck am I supposed to with… this.” You can’t help but sneer a little at the asshole still struggling on the ground.

“Whatever you want, my heart,” Sylus responds. “He’s wanted in Linkon City by at least three different agencies. But we could just dump him over the railing and be done with it. In fact, I’d prefer that,” he says, perking up.

You march over to him and slip a finger under his collar.

“No! Bad kitty,” you scold, pulling a little on the leather, intending to simply tease him for his outrageous suggestion.

Sylus just gasps, eyes going half lidded again. You stop in surprise at the clear pleasure your rough treatment is causing him, but he wraps his hand around your wrist and moves your hand again, tightening the collar against his neck once more.

“If I’m a bad kitty, you better keep a tight hold on me to make sure I don’t drag home any other unwelcome surprises,” he says, voice low and rough.

“Oh?” You marvel at how lovely he looks, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open, breathing hard. “Maybe my bad kitty needs to be punished, so he stops suggesting I murder wanted criminals instead of bringing them to justice like a professional.”

The man on the floor who is forced to witness this flirtation struggles harder, his whimpers ranging from disgusted to terrified. You ignore him.

“Oh nooo,” Sylus says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Then he narrows his eyes. “You better make good on your promise. Or are you just full of empty threats?”

You lean down and press the heel of your hand onto his hard cock straining against his zipper, hard. He moans, eyelashes fluttering.

“Get us to the getaway boat without causing a scene and you’ll find out what I’m full of. Or what I’m about to be full of, if you’re a good kitty for me,” you breathe into his ear.

The man on the floor gags a little.

Sylus stands, lifting you in one arm, grabbing a full duffel bag you hadn’t noticed with the other.

“What’s that?”

“Your bad kitty helped himself to a cat treat,” he purrs.

“What kind of souvenir?”

“The loud, prone-to-exploding-if-you-shake-it-too-hard-kind.” He grins at you, canines flashing.

You can’t help yourself. You burst out laughing.

It may have started with trouncing your crimelord boyfriend at kitty cards, but it ended with you learning how to better care for your catboy boyfriend. It also ended with the arrest of both Snowy Owl and the poor bastard who had to listen to you 'punish' said boyfriend from inside the duffel bag that he was stuffed in after Sylus cut the engine of the getaway boat halfway to your destination, too impatient to wait till you both got home to claim part of his reward for being such a good, good kitty.

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #my fanfic #love and deepspace sylus #sara answers

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helioooss · 2 months ago

Text

hard times, part two

synopsis: years after you closed the door on mina, you find each other again.

w/c: 10k+

warnings: very emotional, mentions of death, read at your own risk. i actually cried???

a/n: long wait is over! i won’t be posting for awhile after this. i appreciate all your little messages and i promise i am reading them. <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

four years since the scandal that blew up across every headline, the breakup that shattered you from the inside out, and the decision to walk away from your old life in seoul. you had been a music producer once, someone who had built a career alongside some of the biggest names in the industry. that was where you met mina. where you fell in love.

that was another lifetime ago.

now, your days are quieter — simpler. the sound of waves crashing against the shore is a far cry from the constant hum of seoul’s streets, and the steady rhythm of stacking books at the small shop you work at is comforting in a way that music never was after everything fell apart.

in australia, you found solace in routine, in the ordinary. you surf in the mornings and work at the bookstore in the afternoons.

you glance out the window of the shop as the afternoon sun paints golden streaks across the pavement. it’s peaceful here, far from the noise, the cameras, the attention. this life you’ve built for yourself is so far removed from the person you used to be that sometimes it feels like a dream — or perhaps, a carefully constructed escape.

but no matter how far you run, some ghosts never leave.

mina was that ghost.

there isn’t a day that goes by when you don’t think about her, even if it’s just in the smallest, quietest moments. the way she used to hold you close, her smile when it was just the two of you, and how she used to look at you like you were her entire world.

it had been that way for years; you always thought nothing could ever shake it.

then came jeno; a rising star. someone famous and adored, somebody from her world. it was supposed to be a fake relationship — the kind idols are pushed into for publicity, but somewhere along the way, lines blurred. you watched as the person you loved slipped away, piece by piece, until the truth came crashing down.

she fell in love with him. you weren’t enough. that’s what your mind always circled back to in the darkest hours. she chose fame, chose him, over you.

the only option left for you was to leave. not just her, but the entire world that reminded you of her; of what you had and what you lost.

it really wasn’t until a few weeks ago that the past began creeping back into your life. after years of silence, you finally posted a picture on instagram — just a shot of the ocean and a surfboard, nothing significant. you weren’t thinking about who might see it, or what it might stir up. yet somehow, some way, it reached your old friends…the ones you had blocked and unblocked every now and then.

one by one, they knocked on your walls. small at first. jeongyeon commenting on the post using her private account, a simple “living the life i see” followed by a string of heart emojis. then sana, a message asking if you were still in australia and which city. dahyun, always the most straightforward, just sent, it’s been too long. let’s catch up.

uncertainty filled your mind, you weren’t sure how to respond. after all, you cut them off when you left. not because you didn’t care about them, but because staying in touch with anyone from that part of your life hurt too much.

there was something in their messages, something familiar and warm that made you hesitate. four years was a long time, and you missed them. maybe more than you wanted to admit.

so you replied, one by one.

a wine bar somewhere in fitzroy, just a few days before their concert at rod laver arena. they flew you out of brisbane and you almost backed out at the last second, nerves twisting in your stomach as you stood outside hope street radio.

what if things weren’t the same?

after heaving out a sigh, you decided to get it over and done with. however, the moment you stepped inside and saw them all sitting around the table, all your worries evaporated. jeongyeon waved you over, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way she almost knocked over her coffee in her excitement.

you felt like a kid again.

“y/n!” sana’s voice rang out, bright and cheerful, pulling you into a tight hug the moment you reached the table. “it’s been so long!”

you laughed, hugging her back as tzuyu slid over to make room for you. “i know. sorry about that.”

“don’t be,” nayeon said, her voice softer than usual but still carrying that familiar edge of mischief. “we miss you, that’s all.”

a moment of silence settled over the table, the weight of unspoken words filling the air. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a heaviness to it. they all knew what happened, even if you never spoke about it in detail. you didn’t have to. they had been there, watching as everything crumbled.

“so,” jihyo broke the silence with a grin, “what’s australia like? other than the killer spiders and, you know, surfing every day by the looks of you?”

“just make sure you don’t let the barking spiders and drop bears get to you,” you nudged at chaeyoung and she did the same; as if the years hadn’t created mountains between you all.

you chuckled, the tension breaking as you launched into a lighthearted conversation about your new life.

“how did you even get to surfing, like, what?” dahyun asked, a hint of jealousy in her voice. “i’ve never even seen you jump in a pool!”

“ahh, well, it started when my roommates decided to take me beach camping with. we drove around the country just to surf. i eventually picked up the hobby and —“

“the sharks, y/n!” momo chimed in, face frightened and all.

this made you laugh as you shook your head. “honestly, they’re not that bad. we get alerts for them all the time and some are even tagged so we can track them ourselves.”

“what are drop bears?”

the smile on your face disappeared. “they’re the worst, never ever look up when you’re hiking through gumtrees…they spy on their prey real good.”

“there goes my dream of hiking under fifty degree heat in australia,” jeongyeon rolled her eyes. “not.”

the jokes started rolling in, and soon enough, it felt like no time had passed at all. you talked about your friends, your quiet life at the bookstore, the peacefulness of the ocean. they talked about their tour, the chaos of their schedules, the craziness of being in the western spotlight.

but there was one name that none of you mentioned.

mina.

as the hours passed, you found yourself relaxing, giggling with them like you used to, the bond between you all still strong despite the years apart. it was bittersweet, yes, but it was also healing in a way you didn’t expect.

“you should come to the concert,” momo suggested at one point, her eyes bright with excitement. “it’s in two days and we’d love to see you there.”

you hesitated, a frown etched on your face. “i don’t think that’d be a good idea, she will be there.”

“she doesn’t have to know,” sana cut in quickly. “she won’t even notice. she’s been…in her own world lately.”

you glanced between them, the unspoken understanding passing between you all. you weren’t sure if you were ready to face mina again. not after everything. but you missed them. missed the connection you had with them, missed being a part of something bigger than yourself.

“pretty please, y/n?”

“okay,” you finally agreed, earning a round of cheers and laughter from the girls.

it felt right, but underneath it all, there was still that pain, the part that wasn’t sure how you’d handle seeing her again after so long.

meanwhile, not too far away from you, mina sat alone in her hotel room; staring mindlessly at her phone. the girls had all gone out for dinner but she stayed back like she has done for years now — harbouring herself away from everyone day by day.

she had tried so many times to reach out to you. after you left, after everything fell apart, she had tried. your friends and family — they shut her out. they still loved her, they told her as much, but they respected your decision to move on, to start over without her. she couldn’t blame them.

after all, she was the one who ruined everything.

jeno had been a mistake from the start. what was supposed to be a fake relationship, something for the cameras, turned into something that crossed lines mina didn’t even realise she had crossed until it was too late. she thought she could handle both. thought she could keep you and the life she had in the public eye, but it had all fallen apart in her hands.

she had lost you — the only person who ever truly mattered.

and for what? a fleeting moment of fame? a shallow relationship that meant nothing?

she regretted it every day.

the past four years without you had been a blur of schedules and stages, but none of it felt real anymore. without you, she was lost. fame wasn’t worth it without you by her side. none of it was.

and now, as she stared at her phone, scrolling through old messages she never sent, she wondered if you ever thought about her the way she thought about you. probably not. you had moved on, hadn’t you? you were probably happy now, living a life she could never be a part of.

then, a message popped up on her screen. it was from jihyo in their group chat.

and it was about you.

mina’s heart skipped a beat as she read the messages popping up one by one, the words sinking in slowly.

jihyo: we all just met up with y/n…and we all decided you deserved to know that she is okay.

tzuyu: yeah she’s looking real good 😊

momo: extremely good looking and even funnier too minari. aged like fine wine

mina frowned, remembering how her members used to tease her in the same way, any chance they got. she wasn’t annoyed at them, no, she missed it.

you were in australia. you had been here, all this time. and now, you were going to be at the concert.

she dropped her phone, panic setting in. she hadn’t seen you in years. what would she say? how would she even face you after what she did?

her mind raced, and for the first time in years, she felt like she was suffocating under the weight of her own decisions. you were so close, and yet so far away.

before she knew it, her thumb clicked on the call button in their group chat. it rang twice…and nayeon’s voice came out of the other line.

“how?” was the first thing that came out of mina’s lips, equal yelling and trembling at. “why didn’t you tell me? otherwise i would’ve come to dinner!”

“mina, please be calmer,” nayeon sighed. “we’re on our way back to the hotel now.”

mina’s fingers shook, anxiety rushing through every vein in her body. “where…where is she?”

“she’s staying at a hotel not too far from the city, we had to fly her out from the gold coast where she actually lives.”

“does she hate me still? does she know i’ve been looking for her everywhere?”

there was stunned silence from the other end, each of the girls not knowing what to say to mina.

“i…” jihyo began, but paused. “we will come to your room in a few minutes, okay? and y/n bought tim tams for you and thinks you might like it.”

mina smiled, her chest feeling warm. at least you remembered, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to face the consequences of what she had done.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the night of the concert arrived, and you stood at the edge of the crowd with one of your friends, taylor, by your side. the energy in the arena was electric, fans cheering and chanting as the lights dimmed and the music began. some even recognised you from back in the days.

taylor nudged you, a grin on her face as she said, “didn’t realise they were this popular.”

you laughed, but it was strained. “trust me, it can get worst than this.”

“and you used to produce for and are friends with these girls?” taylor raised an eyebrow. “who would’ve fucking thought, hey?”

“yep,” you responded, dragging the ‘p’. “eventually, you’re going to find out things about me, so be prepared.”

she said something else, but your thoughts were elsewhere. you scanned the stage, searching for familiar faces, but part of you hoped you wouldn’t see her.

and then, the lights hit the stage, and there she was.

mina.

your breath caught in your throat as you saw her for the first time in four years. she looked different, yet the same. her hair was longer, her expression more guarded; the only thing left was that same spark in her eyes. the one you used to know so well.

when her eyes swept over the crowd, there was a flicker of panic. like she was searching for something — or someone.

you hadn’t prepared yourself to feel all of this again — the rush of memories, the hurt, the betrayal, and something deeper that you thought had disappeared over time.

seeing mina in person, after all these years, was like reopening a wound you thought had healed.

taylor watched you from the corner of her eye, concern flickering across her face, but she didn’t say anything. she didn’t know the whole story, and you weren’t sure you could tell her even if you tried.

on stage, mina moved like she always had —graceful, confident, yet something was off. she kept glancing into the crowd, her eyes scanning over the fans with an almost frantic energy. it was like she was looking for someone. you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay still, but your heart was racing in your chest.

and then, for just a split second, her eyes landed on you.

she froze.

you saw the way her expression changed, how her face paled as if she had seen a ghost. it was like time stopped for both of you. the cheers of the crowd faded into the background, and all you could focus on was the look of shock — and something else in her eyes; regret?

you didn’t know what to feel. a part of you wanted to turn around and leave, to run from the confrontation you knew was coming. but another part of you, the part that still remembered how it felt to love her, couldn’t look away.

before you could make a decision, the other girls must have noticed.

jeongyeon and sana exchanged glances, and you saw them subtly maneuvering mina away from the edge of the stage, trying to shield her from the crowd — and from you. they knew. they knew this was too much for her, that seeing you after all this time was breaking her composure.

you felt a pang of guilt. you hadn’t come here to make her uncomfortable. you came to see your old friends, to support them, not to stir up old wounds. but mina…mina was unraveling right in front of you.

taylor leaned in closer, her voice low so as not to disturb the people around you. “is everything okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost and that pretty girl does too.”

you forced a smile, shaking your head. “i’m fine. just…memories…she’s my ex-girlfriend.”

she didn’t press further, and you were grateful for that. but the tension in your body didn’t ease as the concert went on. every time mina moved, you could feel her glancing in your direction, her discomfort radiating across the stage.

“she must be in love with you still, huh?” taylor nudged your arm gently, trying to lighten up the mood.

“maybe.”

she was barely performing anymore, just going through the motions as her eyes searched for you in the sea of faces. every time she found you, her expression tightened.

it was the weight of four years without closure crashing down on her.

by the end of the concert, you felt emotionally drained. you hadn’t expected it to hit you this hard. as the final song “move” played and the lights dimmed, you considered slipping out before anyone had a chance to come, to avoid the inevitable confrontation.

before you could move, their managers, the ones that were always friendly with you, were suddenly at your side; ushering you towards the back entrance with smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

taylor shot you a questioning look, but you just waved her off. “i’ll explain later,” you mumbled. “this is complicated.”

she shrugged, clearly confused, but didn’t ask any more questions. “i’d rather meet you outside, at a pub, then. take your time, i don’t wanna impose.”

“are you sure you don’t wanna join me?”

“i’m sure, mate,” she smiled, giving you a thumbs up. “too big for my little world, y’know?”

you nodded, your heart racing, and followed them without protest.

as you were led backstage, the weight of everything you’d been avoiding for four years pressed down on you. this used to be your world, ran these shows like a maniac. you hadn’t wanted to come back to this, not after what she did.

yet now that you were here, you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that threatened to drown you.

the hallway backstage was buzzing with activity —managers and staff moving around in a whirlwind of post-concert chaos. all of that blurred into the background as tzuyu appeared out of a room and guided you to a quieter area, away from the noise with only just her.

“she saw you,” tzuyu said quietly once you were alone, her eyes full of concern. “she hasn’t been the same all night.”

you swallowed hard, feeling the guilt gnaw at you again. ��i didn’t mean for this to happen. i didn’t even know if i should come.”

tzuyu sighed softly. “you know how much you mean to her, right? even after everything?”

you looked away, the ache in your chest growing. “then why did she hurt me?”

“it was a mistake,” tzuyu said, her voice gentle but firm. “a stupid, terrible mistake. but it wasn’t because she didn’t love you.”

you didn’t know how to respond to that. for so long, you had convinced yourself that mina had chosen jeno because you weren’t enough. that you, the quiet producer working behind the scenes, could never compete with someone famous, someone who could give her everything.

it had been the root of your insecurity, the thing that haunted you long after you left.

before you could say anything else, the door to the room opened, and there she was.

mina — she sitting on the couch with her head down her palms, surrounded by all the other girls.

she looked fragile, more so than you had ever seen her. the confidence she usually carried on stage was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sadness. the moment she looked up at you, her bloodshot eyes were wide, it was like she couldn’t breathe.

“y/n,” her voice was barely a whisper, but it sent a jolt through you. hearing her say your name in the tone after all these years felt like a punch to the gut.

you stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do. all the anger, the hurt, the longing — it all surged up at once, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

mina took a tentative step forward, her eyes pleading you to say something, anything.

and you couldn’t.

you could feel the other girls staring, their presence a quiet reminder that this moment was fragile. the air between you and mina was thick with everything unsaid.

“i…i didn’t know you would be here,” mina stammered, her voice shaking. “i didn’t think i’d ever see you again.”

“i didn’t plan on it,” you finally managed to say, your voice hoarse. “i came to see them. not you.”

mina flinched, but she didn’t back away. instead, she took another step forward, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “i’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “for everything, for hurting you, for…for losing you like that.”

you shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. “it’s been four years, mina. four years since you left me for someone else. what more could you want from me?”

“i know,” mina chocked out, hands trembling. “i know. and i hate myself for it every day.”

“that mistake cost me everything,” you said, your voice hardening — cold and detached. “i loved you all those years and i still wasn’t enough for you.”

“no,” mina said quickly, her eyes wide with desperation. “you were always enough. more than enough. i got caught up in the fame, in everything i thought i needed and now i know none of it mattered. we had dreams of our future together, y/n, i worked hard so we could achieve it…and i messed up real bad, blinded.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and raw. you wanted to believe her. god, you wanted to believe her, but the hurt was still there. and painful.

“you have no idea what these past four years have been like for me,” your voice trembled, only noticing that you were both alone together. “i rebuilt my life from nothing. i tried to forget you. but every time i think i’ve moved on, something reminds me of you.”

mina’s face crumpled, and she took another step closer, until she was right in front of you. “please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “please don’t shut me out again. i know i don’t deserve it, but i want to make things right. i need you, y/n. i’ve always needed you.”

you looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time in years, you saw the vulnerability in her eyes. she wasn’t the mina on stage, the idol who commanded the attention of millions. she was just the girl you fell in love with all those years ago, the one who used to hold your hand and share secrets and breathless kisses in the dark.

but could you trust her again?

before you could answer, jihyo stepped into the room, gently placing a hand on mina’s shoulder. “let’s give it some time,” she said softly. “y/n’s been through a lot. this isn’t something that can be fixed overnight.

mina nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks as she took a step back. “i understand,” she whispered. “but i won’t give up. not on you.”

with that, she turned and left the room, leaving you standing there with the rest of the girls, your heart heavy with everything that had just happened.

you didn’t know what the future held. you didn’t know if you could ever forgive mina for what she did.

as you stood there, watching the door close behind her, you learned that a part of you, no matter how small, wanted to try.

the following months were a blur. after that night at the concert, mina tried reaching out to you in every way possible — texts, calls, even showing up at the bookstore where you worked. you ignored her, still unsure if you were ready to let her back into your life. every time you saw her name flash on your phone, your heart clenched, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

eventually, mina’s messages became less frequent, though you knew from the other twice members that she was struggling, bad. they told you about her anxiety, how she was barely able to perform anymore, how the weight of losing you was crushing her. part of you felt guilty, but another part of you knew that she needed to face the consequences of her actions.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it wasn’t until mina made a public announcement that everything changed.

you were stunned.

the day of mina’s public press conference arrived like a storm, unexpected and impossible to ignore. you hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t even heard rumours about it until you stumbled upon a news headline on your phone while you were on a break at the bookstore.

“mina myoui of twice speaks out in emotional press conference: ‘i lost the love of my life because of my own mistakes.’”

your heart dropped. your hands shook as you clicked the link, the video starting almost instantly.

there she was, standing behind a podium, dressed simply in black, her face pale and drawn. cameras flashed incessantly, the noise of the reporters’ murmurs filled the room as she stood there, clearly struggling to keep her composure.

you hadn’t seen her like this before — not in all the years you were together, not in the countless press events she’d attended as an idol. this was different. this was raw.

as you watched, you could almost feel the vulnerability radiating off of her, like she was standing there with her heart in her hands, baring it for the rest of the world to see.

“thank you all for being here,” mina began, her voice shaky but resolute. she clutched the edges of the podium as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “there is something i need to say. something i’ve needed to say for a long time.”

she took a deep breath, and in that moment, you could see the weight of everything she had carried for years. all the pain, the regret, the guilt; it was written on her face, in the way her shoulders slumped, in the tremble of her voice.

“i’ve made many mistakes in my life, and the biggest one of all was losing someone i loved more than anything. i’ve stayed silent about it for a long time, out of respect for them, and because…because i didn’t know how to face the truth.”

the room fell silent. even the reporters, always hungry for a story, seemed to sense the gravity of what she was about to say.

“i was in a relationship,” mina continued, her voice cracking slightly. “a relationship that i cherished more than anything in this world. you all would have known her as y/n.”

your breath caught in your throat as you listened, the words cutting deep. this wasn’t the mina the world was used to seeing. this wasn’t the idol, the face on billboards — this was the real mina: vulnerable, scared and desperate to make amends.

“my y/n,” she said softly, the name falling from her lips like a confession. “she was everything to me, she loved me when i was just mina, not an idol, not a public figure, just me. we were just kids.”

there was a collective gasp from the room, the reporters scribbling furiously in their notebooks, but mina didn’t stop. her eyes were red, tears shimmering at the edges, but she pressed on.

“i hurt her bad,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper now, but it was clear, unflinching. “it was a stupid, selfish mistake, and i’ve regretted it every single day since.”

the cameras zoomed in on her face, capturing every tear that slipped down her cheeks. you could see the pain etched into every line, the desperation in her eyes as she looked directly into the camera, as if she were speaking to you and only you.

“but i let the pressures of this industry, the expectations, get to me. i thought i needed to be someone else to survive in this world, and in the process, i lost the one person who truly mattered.”

you felt your chest tighten as you watched her fall apart in front of the world. it wasn’t just an apology; it was a public plea, a desperate attempt to reach you, wherever you were. and it was working. despite everything, you couldn’t stop the wave of emotion that crashed over you as you listened to her words.

she paused, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming.

“i need you to know that i haven’t stopped thinking about you. i haven’t stopped loving you. not for a single day. and if i could go back and change everything, i would. if i could give up this life, this fame, this career, to have you back, i would do it in a heartbeat.”

the silence in the room was deafening. even the reporters seemed to be holding their breath, captivated by the rawness of her confession.

mina took a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, her voice breaking completely as she spoke the next words. “i’ve been lost without you but i don’t expect you to forgive me,” she said, her voice barely audible now. “i don’t expect you to even want to see me again. but i had to say this. i had to let the world know what i did, and how much i regret it. because you deserve to know how much i loved you. how much i still love you.”

there was a long pause, and for a moment, it seemed like she was going to break down completely. then she straightened up, her eyes red and swollen, but resolute.

“i’m taking a break from everything,” she added quietly. “i need time to reflect, to heal, and to figure out who i am without all of this. i’ve been relieved all of my duties from twice, i need to find myself again and i hope you can all understand.”

the room was still. no one dared speak. no one dared interrupt the moment.

mina glanced down at the podium, her hands shaking slightly as she folded the piece of paper in front of her, though she hadn’t read from it once. then she looked back up at the camera, her expression full of sorrow, but also a kind of hope.

“y/n,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, “if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, i’ll be waiting.”

and with that, she stepped away from the podium, leaving the room in stunned silence. the cameras continued to flash, the reporters murmured amongst themselves, but mina didn’t look back. she walked out of the room, her shoulders slumped, her heart laid bare for the world to see.

“what the fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, messages from everyone slowly flooding in.

years were spent building a life away from her, convincing yourself that you were over it, but now, after hearing her speak, after seeing the depth of her pain, you weren’t so sure.

you had loved her. and a part of you still did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

over the next few days, the media exploded with the news of mina’s press conference. it was everywhere: on social media, in magazines, in every corner of the internet.

and amidst all the chaos, amidst all the noise, you found yourself replaying her words in your head over and over again.

she was stepping away. from everything.

because of you.

you hadn’t responded to her messages, her calls, or her letters for so long. you had kept her at arm’s length, refusing to let her back in after the way she hurt you. now, after seeing her like that; vulnerable, so broken — you wondered if you had been holding on to your anger for too long.

could you really spend the rest of your life shutting her out?

one day, as you sat in the bookstore, staring blankly at the stack of books in front of you, taylor came up to you with a hesitant look on her face.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle. “you’ve been… kind of out of it since that whole press thing with, uh, you know…her.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i don’t know, taylor. i really don’t know.”

taylor paused, then handed you another envelope. “this came for you today. from japan again.”

it was from mina. you didn’t even need to open it to know. she had been sending them regularly now, each one more heartfelt than the last, each one filled with the same desperation and regret you had seen at the press conference.

you knew what she was asking for. forgiveness. a second chance.

but could you give it to her?

you hesitated for a long moment, then finally tore open the envelope, your hands shaking slightly as you unfolded the letter.

it was long, full of apologies and regrets, but it was also full of memories. mina wrote about the life she had imagined for the two of you, the life she had lost because of her mistakes. she wrote about how she was living in a small cabin in kyoto, trying to find herself again, and how she wished you could see the beauty of the place with her.

she had changed. she wasn’t the same person who had broken your heart all those years ago.

for weeks, the letters kept coming, each one more heartfelt than the last. mina poured her heart out on paper, describing her days in kyoto, the simple life she had built for herself away from the spotlight. she wrote about how much she had grown, how she had learned from her mistakes, and how much she still loved you.

“do you think you could forgive her?” taylor asked one day, her feet up on the register and fingers greased with butter from the fairy bread in her hand. “like i don’t know man, she seems pretty genuine about all this.”

“she has changed,” you mumbled, folding the piece of paper gently into a box filled with her letters.

and just maybe, you weren’t the same person either. by the time you finished reading her last letter. your decision was made.

you stared down at the blank paper in front of you, the pen heavy in your hand. for a long time, you just sat there, unsure of how to even begin. every time you thought of mina, it was like two opposing forces collided within you: one pulling you toward her, remembering the love you had, and the other pulling you away, reminding you of the pain she had caused.

and yet, despite the weight of it all, you found your hand moving almost on its own, words spilling onto the page.

dear mina,

i’m not sure where to start. i don’t even know if i should be writing this. it’s been four years and i thought i had moved on. but then you went and did something like that, something i never expected.

you paused, biting your lip as you stared at the words. it felt like you were pouring your heart out onto the page, but it also felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a long time.

you continued writing, the words coming easier now.

i watched your press conference. i saw you standing there, telling the world about us. you have no idea how hard that was for me, hearing you talk about what we had, what we lost. for a long time, i thought i’d never be able to forgive you for what you did. when you cheated, it broke something in me that i didn’t think could ever be fixed.

now, after seeing you like that, after reading your letters…i don’t know, minari. i don’t know what to think anymore.

you sat back for a moment, rereading what you had written. it was honest, raw, and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to confront the emotions you had buried.

i can see that you’ve changed. i can see that you regret what happened. and maybe i’ve changed too. maybe i’m finally ready to let go of the anger.

you hesitated, your pen hovering over the paper. maybe. the word felt heavy, unsure. but wasn’t that the truth? you didn’t know if you were ready to forgive her completely, however, you were ready to start, and that was something.

i don’t know if i’m ready to forgive you, not completely, you wrote, the words feeling like a relief as they left the tip of your pen. but i’m willing to talk. i’m willing to hear you out, to see if there’s something left between us. i think we both owe it to ourselves to figure that out.

you paused again, your heart pounding as you realized what you were about to do. this was the first real step toward letting her back into your life, and it scared you.

so, if you’re serious about this — about us — then i’m willing to try again.

sincerely, y/n.

you stared at the letter for a long time after you finished writing, the words on the page blurring as you thought about everything that had led you to this moment. you had spent years running from your feelings, building walls to protect yourself, but maybe it was time to stop running. maybe it was time to face the love you had lost and see if it could be rebuilt.

the next day, you mailed the letter.

weeks passed after you sent the letter, and for a while, there was nothing but silence. part of you had expected that — after all, mina had disappeared from the public eye, taking a hiatus to heal, just like she said she would. you wondered if she had received your letter, if she was still in that cabin in kyoto, waiting for your response.

“how are things with mina?” your dad casually brought her up over the phone, the air filling with tension.

“uh, yeah, i don’t really know,” you spun your fork around. “we’re sort of talking.”

“that girl loves you with all her life,” he sighed. “it was a shame to see her go.”

“i know.”

“forgive her, y/n!” your mum’s voice rung from the line, albeit a bit distant. she must’ve been in the kitchen. “love is all about hurting, if it finds its way back to you, don’t close your door to it.”

then, one day, you received a letter back.

your heart pounded as you opened it, mina’s familiar handwriting scrawled across the page. you sat down at your small kitchen table, hands trembling slightly as you began to read.

dear y/n,

thank you. thank you for writing back, and thank you for giving me a chance, even if it’s just to talk. when i received your letter, i couldn’t stop crying. i know that i don’t deserve your forgiveness, and i wasn’t sure if you would ever want to speak to me again, but knowing that you’re willing to at least try…it means everything to me.

i understand that you’re not ready to forgive me yet, and i don’t expect you to be. i know i hurt you deeply, and it’s going to take time. but i promise, y/n, i’m not the same person i was back then. i’ve had a lot of time to reflect on who i am, on what i want out of life, and more than anything, i want to be the person you fell in love with again.

i’m still in kyoto, living a quiet life in the cabin. it’s peaceful here, in a way i’ve never experienced before. sometimes, i walk through the cherry blossom trees, and i think about what it would be like if you were here with me, seeing the beauty of this place.

i know i have a long way to go to prove myself to you, but i’m willing to do whatever it takes. i’ve been thinking about the life we could have together — the one we dreamed of. i want us to have a future again.

but i also know that i have to earn it. so, i’ll wait. as long as it takes, i’ll wait.

with all my love, mina.

her letter rest in your lap, it smelt just like her. they all do. your mind was swirling with thoughts and emotions. it felt surreal, hearing from her again, reading her words, feeling the sincerity behind them.

and in that fleeting moment, you realised something. you wanted that future too.

over the next few months, you and mina exchanged letters regularly. they were long, filled with memories, apologies, and hopes for the future.

she wrote about her days in kyoto, about the small joys she found in the quiet life she was leading, about how she was rediscovering who she was outside of the idol world. you wrote back, telling her about your life in australia, about taylor, about the bookstore and the ocean that had become your refuge.

slowly, the walls between you began to crumble.

and then, one day, you made a decision.

you booked a flight to kyoto.

the air in kyoto was crisp and cool as you stepped off the plane, the cherry blossoms in full bloom as you made your way through the city. it had been years since you had been in japan, and the familiarity of it felt strange, almost foreign after the life you had built in australia. there was something comforting about it too, something that made your heart beat faster as you thought about what was waiting for you.

mina.

you hadn’t told her you were coming. you wanted it to be a surprise, and you weren’t even sure what you were going to say when you saw her. after months of letters, after all the words and apologies and hopes shared between the two of you, you knew one thing for sure:

you had to see her.

you followed the directions she had given you in one of her letters, winding through narrow streets and past beautiful gardens until you reached a small cabin nestled at the edge of a quiet grove of cherry trees. the sight of it took your breath away.

simple, unassuming, but surrounded by a beauty that seemed almost unreal.

for a moment, you just stood there, staring at the cabin, your heart pounding in your chest. this was it.

you took a deep breath, then walked up to the door and knocked.

there was a long pause, and for a minute, you wondered if she was even home. then, the door opened, and there she was.

she looked different, yet the same. her hair was longer, pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she was dressed simply in a cream sweater and black joggers. but it was her eyes that caught you—the same eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago, filled with shock, hope, and something else…something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“y/n?” her voice was soft, disbelieving, as if she couldn’t believe you were standing there in front of her.

you swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked at her, taking in every detail. “hi, mina.”

for a long moment, neither of you moved. you just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything that had happened hanging in the air between you. and then, before you could say anything else, mina stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.

you hesitated for a second, your body stiff with the shock of it all, but then you melted into her embrace, your arms wrapping around her in return.

like coming home after being lost for so long.

“i’m sorry,” mina whispered against your shoulder, her voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you closed your eyes, holding her tighter. “i know.”

you stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding each other as the cherry blossoms fell gently around you, the weight of the past slowly lifting.

you were ready to find your way back to each other.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

over the next few years, you and mina rebuilt what had been broken. it wasn’t easy — there were still moments of hurt, moments when the past threatened to resurface, but you both worked through it.

you travelled together, exploring the places you had always dreamed of visiting. you laughed and cried together, and found joy in the simple moments of life.

one day, in a quiet moment under the cherry blossom trees, mina got down on one knee and asked you to marry her.

you said yes.

the wedding was small, private, just the two of you and a handful of close friends. it wasn’t the grand, public affair that mina’s life had once been filled with: it was quiet, intimate, and full of love.

“mrs and mrs myoi!” all your friends cheered, the ones who have been there throughout your journey, throwing petals of flowers at you.

“i can’t believe you’re actually married,” rosé cries alongside jennie, them pushing each other playfully in the crowd. “i hope i’m not next.”

you laughed and as you stood there, hand in hand with the woman you had once thought you had lost forever, you realised that you had both found your way back to where you belonged.

together.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the soft glow of the morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm haze over the room. you sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion etched into every part of your body, but there was an undeniable peace that had settled over you. next to you, mina lay with her head against the pillow, her hair tousled, eyes soft as they gazed at the tiny bundle in your arms.

in your lap, wrapped in a light blue blanket, was your son.

he was small, delicate, his tiny fingers curled around your thumb as he slept soundly, oblivious to the world around him. his dark hair, still wispy, stuck out at odd angles, and you couldn’t stop staring at him.

mina shifted beside you, reaching out to gently stroke his cheek with the pad of her finger, her eyes filled with wonder and something deeper. “he’s so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “i think he’s going to have those striking eyes of yours.”

you smiled, feeling a swell of pride and love in your chest. “yeah, he really is.”

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, just taking in the sight of your son, feeling the enormity of the moment settle over you. it had been a long journey to get here, but now, sitting here with the love of your life and your first child, it all felt worth it.

mina leaned her head against your shoulder, her eyes never leaving the baby’s face. “what should we call him?”

you had talked about names for months, tossing ideas back and forth, but now that he was here, the name you both loved most seemed to fit perfectly. even the girls had their input, but you put a halt to it when jeongyeon suggested bob.

“yuto,” you said softly, the name feeling right on your tongue. “what do you think?”

mina smiled, her eyes shining with tears. “yuto,” she repeated, testing it out. “it’s perfect.”

yuto stirred in your arms, his tiny face scrunching up for a moment before he settled back into sleep. you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the overwhelming love you had for him already.

mina wrapped her arm around you, pulling you closer, and the two of you sat there in the quiet of the morning, holding the newest member of your family. yuto was yours — yours and mina’s — a symbol of everything you had been through, of the love you had fought so hard to rebuild.

“welcome to the world, yuto,” mina whispered softly, her voice full of love.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the house in australia was quiet, except for the gentle rustling of leaves outside and the occasional sound of the ocean in the distance. it had been their home for decades, a place filled with laughter, love, and memories that spanned a lifetime. the walls were lined with photos, capturing every stage of their journey together —the wedding, the birth of their children, and moments spent with friends who had become family.

yuto, their eldest, a kind and thoughtful person who had followed in your footsteps, becoming a producer in his own right, though he chose to stay out of the limelight. he had his mother’s calm demeanor, often the one to bring peace during any family chaos.

their second child, a daughter named haruka, was full of fire and creativity. she had her own art gallery in melbourne and was known for her bold, expressive paintings that often captured the vibrant landscapes of australia. haruka was fierce, protective, and carried the weight of being a middle child with grace, always looking out for her siblings.

next came their son akira, who had inherited your grace and sense of purpose. akira was a dancer, like his mother once was and he traveled the world performing in renowned dance companies. he had a quiet intensity about him, thoughtful and introspective, yet he was always the first to call when something important happened, making sure the family stayed connected despite the miles between them.

the youngest, hana, was the baby of the family. she was gentle and soft-spoken, often the quiet observer in a room, but her empathy and kindness shone through in everything she did. hana worked as a therapist, helping children and families navigate difficult moments, and she was adored by her nieces and nephews for her gentle, nurturing nature.

you and mina had watched your children grow into adults with pride, and though the years had weathered your bodies, the love you shared remained as strong as ever. you were in your early 80s now, both of you moving slower than you used to, but still finding joy in the simple moments; like the quiet sunday mornings where you’d sit together, sipping tea and watching the world wake up.

it was during one of those mornings, the sun just starting to filter through the curtains, that you and mina found yourselves reminiscing about the old days.

“do you ever think about the girls?” mina asked softly, her hand resting on yours, her touch still as warm as ever.

you nodded, your thoughts drifting back to the early days of your life together, back when twice had been at the height of their fame. “i do,” you said, your voice quiet with the weight of memories. “it feels like a lifetime ago.”

she sighed, her gaze distant as she thought of her old friends. “chaeyoung and dahyun…” she trailed off, her voice breaking slightly.

they had passed years ago, both gone too soon. chaeyoung’s death had hit the hardest —unexpected and sudden, a loss that none of you had been prepared for. dahyun had followed a few years later, her health declining steadily after a battle with illness. the grief had been heavy, but the bond between the remaining members of twice had only grown stronger with time, even as life took them in different directions.

“and tzuyu,” you added, feeling the familiar ache in your chest. tzuyu had lived a long, full life, but her passing had left a hole in all of you. “she was the last to go, wasn’t she?”

mina nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “and nayeon,” she said quietly. “she’s not doing well. i’m afraid she won’t make it next christmas.”

you knew. nayeon had been in and out of the hospital for years now, her health fragile, and though you both tried to stay in touch, it was difficult. the distance, both physical and emotional, had grown over the years.

but the love was still there, a bond that time couldn’t break

“we had a good life,” mina whispered, leaning her head against your shoulder. “didn’t we?”

you smiled, your heart full. “the best,” you agreed. “we’ve been through so much, but we made it through together. and our children and grandchildren, minari, they are beautiful.”

she smiled, her eyes closing as she let out a contented sigh. “i love you forever, y/n, in every lifetime, i’m certain i’m yours.”

“i love you too, my darling,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you had carried for her over the decades.

the two of you sat there for a while longer, the silence between you comfortable, the weight of the years resting gently on your shoulders.

when you woke up the next morning, the room was still.

mina didn’t wake.

you stared at her peaceful face, your heart breaking as you realised she left in her sleep. she looked so serene, as if she had simply drifted away, leaving behind nothing but the memory of her warmth.

the tears came before you could stop them, your chest tightening with grief so profound it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

your children came quickly, each of them devastated by the loss of their mother. yuto, always the calm one, held you close, his own grief hidden behind the mask of strength he wore for the rest of the family. haruka sobbed openly, her fiery nature unable to be contained in the face of such a loss. akira was silent, his face pale and drawn, while hana cried quietly, her hand clasped tightly in yours as you all tried to process the reality of a world without mina.

the remaining members of twice arrived shortly after, their faces etched with the same grief you felt. nayeon, despite her frail health, had insisted on being there, leaning heavily on jeongyeon for support. jeongyeon’s face was a mask of sorrow, her strong shoulders carrying not only her grief but that of those around her. momo remained quiet, she had always been close to mina, her hands were clasped and her lips trembled as she tried to hold back her tears. sana leaned against momo, her arms wrapped around her in comfort, and yet her own grief threatened to overwhelm her. and lastly…jihyo, the one who had organised the funeral and made sure it would be perfect for your wife, her usual composure cracking from the weight of losing mina.

they held a small, private funeral for mina, just family and her closest friends. it was simple, just like she would have wanted. the ceremony was filled with bittersweet memories, with stories of her laughter, her grace, her kindness. everyone spoke of how beautiful she was, inside and out, and how deeply she had touched their lives.

as you sat there, listening to the stories being shared, the grief felt overwhelming. it wasn’t just that you had lost your partner, your soulmate.

it was that an era had ended. the life you had built together, the memories you had shared, felt so fragile now.

“she was everything to me,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you spoke to those gathered around you. “i don’t know how to live without her.”

but the truth was, you didn’t have to.

because not even a week after mina’s passing, you went to bed one night and never woke up.

when your children found you, there was no shock, no surprise. there was only peace. they knew, as did the remaining members of twice, that you and mina were always meant to be together, in life and in death.

your passing was marked by another quiet funeral, this time with even more tears but also a sense of comfort. your children, yuto, haruka, akira, and hana, stood together, knowing that the love you and mina shared would live on in them. the twice members gathered again, this time to say goodbye to both of you, their tears mingling with soft laughter as they shared stories of the lives you had lived.

“they were always together,” nayeon uttered, her voice hoarse from crying. “it’s only fitting that they left together too.”

jeongyeon nodded, wiping at her eyes. “they lived a beautiful life. they were happy.”

“they had each other,” sana added softly, her voice filled with emotion.

and in the end, that was all that mattered.

you and mina, after decades of love, pain, joy, and sorrow, had found your way back to each other in the most permanent way possible.

and now, in whatever came next, you were together once again.

because that’s how it had always been, and that’s how it always would be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end

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